The Origin of Divine Christology 9781107199262

Table of contents :
Acknowledgements page xv
1 Introducing the Theories and Approaches
Concerning the Origin of Divine Christology 1
1.1 Signifi cance of the Question 1
1.2 Introducing Various Types of Theories Concerning the
Origin of Divine Christology 3
1.3 Introducing the Issue of Jesus’ Self-Understanding 6
1.4 The Approach of This Book 9
1.5 Clarifi cation of Key Terms 12
1.6 An Overview of the Rest of This Book 21
2 The Highest Christology Was Present Among the
Earliest Christians: The Evidences 24
2.1 Introduction 24
2.2 1 Corinthians 8:6 26
2.3 Philippians 2:6–11 33
2.4 Evidence from Devotional Practices 41
2.5 Evidence from Expressions of Spiritual Desire
for Christ 45
2.6 Conclusion 47
3 Replies to Objections Involving Various Exalted
Figures in Second Temple Judaism 48
3.1 Introduction 48
3.2 The Importance of the Creator–Creature Divide 53
3.3 Concerning the Angel of the LORD 66
3.4 Concerning Kings, Messiahs and Others 68
Replies to Other Objections Concerning the Highest
Christology of the Earliest Christians 79
4.1 Concerning the Claim That According to Acts the
Earliest Christians Did Not Worship Jesus 79
4.2 Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Distinguished
from and Subordinated to God 80
4.3 Concerning the Claim That Adoptionism/Exaltation
Christology Was Present Earlier 83
4.4 Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Regarded as
Functionally Divine but Not Ontologically Divine 93
4.5 Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Merely
Venerated, Not Worshipped 94
4.6 Concerning the Claim That Sacrifi ce Is Never Said in
the New Testament to Be Off ered to Christ 95
4.7 Conclusion 97
5 The Extent of Highest Christology in Earliest
Christianity 100
5.1 Introduction 100
5.2 The Argument for Widespread Extent 101
5.3 Is There Absence of Jewish Objection to Paul’s Divine
Christology? 103
5.4 Argument from Silence? 107
5.5 Reply to Objections by Bart Ehrman and Others 110
5.6 Examples of Theories Which Fail to Explain the
Widespread Extent 114
5.7 Conclusion 131
6 The Best Explanation for the Origin of Highest
Christology 134
6.1 Introduction 134
6.2 The Earliest Christians Were Evidently Concerned
About Passing on the Traditions of Jesus’ Teachings 134
6.3 The Diffi culty of the Idea of Regarding a Human Jesus
As Also Truly Divine 137
6.4 The Issue of Falsifi cation of Jesus’ Intention 140
6.5 The Best Historical Explanation for a Diversity of
Other Peculiar Beliefs and Practices of the Earliest
Christians Is That They Originated from Jesus 144
6.6 It Is Likely That Jesus Was Perceived to Have Given
Clear Indications That He Regarded Himself as Truly
Divine by a Signifi cant Number of Disciples 146
6.7 The Role of Early Christian Thinking About
Intermediary Figures 147
6.8 Is My Proposal Too Christocentric Rather Than
Theocentric? 147
6.9 Conclusion 151
7 Assessing the Evidences for the Origin of Highest
Christology in the Gospels 153
7.1 Introduction 153
7.2 Counter-Evidence in the Gospels? 153
7.3 Traces in the Gospels 159
8 Conclusion 194
Bibliography 209
Scripture and Apocrypha Index 232
Index of Other Ancient Sources 240
Index of Authors 242
Index of Subjects 245

Citation preview

The Origin of Divine Christology Volume 169

In recent years, there has been considerable debate concerning the origin of divine Christology. Nevertheless, the proposed theories are beset with problems, such as failing to address the evidence of widespread agreement among the earliest Christians concerning divine Christology and the issues related to whether Jesus’ intention was falsified. This book offers a new contribution by addressing these issues using transdisciplinary tools. It proposes that the earliest Christians regarded Jesus as divine because a sizeable group of them perceived that Jesus claimed and showed himself to be divine, and thought that God vindicated this claim by raising Jesus from the dead. It also provides a comprehensive critique of alternative proposals and synthesizes their strengths. It defends the appropriateness and merits of utilizing philosophical distinctions (e.g. between ontology and function) and Trinitarian concepts for explaining early Christology, and incorporates comparative religion by examining cases of deification in other contexts. is Research Assistant Professor at the Faith and Global Engagement Initiative, The University of Hong Kong. His previous publications include A Kryptic Model of the Incarnation (2014) and several articles in leading international peer-reviewed journals such as Religious Studies and the Journal of Theological Studies.

ANDREW TER ERN LOKE

SOCIETY FOR N EW TES TAM ENT S TU D I E S : MONOG RAPH   S ERIES

G enera l Ed i to r:   Pa u l Treb i l c o

169

THE ORIGIN OF DIVINE CHRISTOLOGY

SOCIETY FOR NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES MONOGRAPH SERIES Recent titles in the series: 143. Cosmology and Eschatology in Hebrews KENNETH L. SCHENCK 144. The Speeches of Outsiders in Acts OSVALDO PADILLA 145. The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts PATRICIA WALTERS 146. Geography and the Ascension Narrative in Acts MATTHEW SLEEMAN 147. The Ituraeans and the Roman Near East E. A. MYERS 148. The Politics of Inheritance in Romans MARK FORMAN 149. The Doctrine of Salvation in the First Letter of Peter MARTIN WILLIAMS 150. Jesus and the Forgiveness of Sins TOBIAS HÄGERLAND

151. The Composition of the Gospel of Thomas SIMON GATHERCOLE 152. Paul as an Administrator of God in 1 Corinthians JOHN K. GOODRICH 153. Affirming the Resurrection of the Incarnate Christ MATTHEW D. JENSEN 154. Riches, Poverty, and the Faithful MARK D. MATHEWS 155. Paul and the Rhetoric of Reversal in 1 Corinthians MATTHEW R. MALCOLM 156. The Genre of Acts and Collected Biographies SEAN A. ADAMS 157. The Eschatology of 1 Peter KELLY D. LIEBENGOOD 158. The Hermeneutics of Christological Psalmody in Paul MATTHEW SCOTT 159. Corinthian Wisdom, Stoic Philosophy, and the Ancient Economy TIMOTHY A. BROOKINS 160. Faith and the Faithfulness of Jesus in Hebrews MATTHEW C. EASTER 161. Covenant Renewal and the Consecration of the Gentiles in Romans SARAH WHITTLE 162. The Role of Jewish Feasts in John’s Gospel GERRY WHEATON 163. Paul’s Political Strategy in 1 Corinthians 1–4 BRADLEY J. BITNER 164. The Pauline Church and the Corinthian Ekklēsia RICHARD LAST 165. Jesus and the Temple SIMON J. JOSEPH 166. The Death of Jesus in Matthew CATHERINE SIDER HAMILTON

167. Ecclesiology and Theosis in the Gospel of John ANDREW J. BYERS 168. The Book of Revelation and Early Jewish Textual Culture GARRICK ALLEN

The Origin of Divine Christology Volume 169 ANDREW TER ERN  LOKE The University of Hong Kong

University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia 4843/24, 2nd Floor, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, Delhi – 110002, India 79 Anson Road, #06-04/06, Singapore 079906 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107199262 DOI: 10.1017/9781108185486 © Andrew Ter Ern Loke 2017 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2017 Printed in the United States of America by Sheridan Books, Inc. A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Loke, Andrew Ter Ern, author. Title: The origin of divine Christology / Andrew Ter Ern Loke, The University of Hong Kong. Description: New York : Cambridge University Press, 2017. | Series: Society for New Testament studies monograph series ; Volume 169 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2017004893 | ISBN 9781107199262 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Jesus Christ–Divinity–History of doctrines–Early church, ca. 30–600. | Jesus Christ–Historicity. | Jesus Christ–Person and offices. Classification: LCC BT216.3 .L65 2017 | DDC 232/.8–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017004893 ISBN 978-1-107-19926-2 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

For Christ Jesus Ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου (John 20:28)

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements 1

2

Introducing the Theories and Approaches Concerning the Origin of Divine Christology

1

1.1 Significance of the Question 1.2 Introducing Various Types of Theories Concerning the Origin of Divine Christology 1.3 Introducing the Issue of Jesus’ Self-Understanding 1.4 The Approach of This Book 1.5 Clarification of Key Terms 1.6 An Overview of the Rest of This Book

3 6 9 12 21

The Highest Christology Was Present Among the Earliest Christians: The Evidences

24

2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5

Introduction 1 Corinthians 8:6 Philippians 2:6–11 Evidence from Devotional Practices Evidence from Expressions of Spiritual Desire for Christ 2.6 Conclusion

3

page xv

1

24 26 33 41 45 47

Replies to Objections Involving Various Exalted Figures in Second Temple Judaism

48

3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4

48 53 66 68

Introduction The Importance of the Creator–Creature Divide Concerning the Angel of the LORD Concerning Kings, Messiahs and Others

xi

xii

Contents 4

Replies to Other Objections Concerning the Highest Christology of the Earliest Christians 4.1 Concerning the Claim That According to Acts the Earliest Christians Did Not Worship Jesus 4.2 Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Distinguished from and Subordinated to God 4.3 Concerning the Claim That Adoptionism/Exaltation Christology Was Present Earlier 4.4 Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Regarded as Functionally Divine but Not Ontologically Divine 4.5 Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Merely Venerated, Not Worshipped 4.6 Concerning the Claim That Sacrifice Is Never Said in the New Testament to Be Offered to Christ 4.7 Conclusion

5

The Extent of Highest Christology in Earliest Christianity 5.1 Introduction 5.2 The Argument for Widespread Extent 5.3 Is There Absence of Jewish Objection to Paul’s Divine Christology? 5.4 Argument from Silence? 5.5 Reply to Objections by Bart Ehrman and Others 5.6 Examples of Theories Which Fail to Explain the Widespread Extent 5.7 Conclusion

6

The Best Explanation for the Origin of Highest Christology 6.1 Introduction 6.2 The Earliest Christians Were Evidently Concerned About Passing on the Traditions of Jesus’ Teachings 6.3 The Difficulty of the Idea of Regarding a Human Jesus As Also Truly Divine 6.4 The Issue of Falsification of Jesus’ Intention 6.5 The Best Historical Explanation for a Diversity of Other Peculiar Beliefs and Practices of the Earliest Christians Is That They Originated from Jesus

79 79 80 83 93 94 95 97

100 100 101 103 107 110 114 131

134 134 134 137 140

144

Contents 6.6 It Is Likely That Jesus Was Perceived to Have Given Clear Indications That He Regarded Himself as Truly Divine by a Significant Number of Disciples 6.7 The Role of Early Christian Thinking About Intermediary Figures 6.8 Is My Proposal Too Christocentric Rather Than Theocentric? 6.9 Conclusion

7

8

xiii

146 147 147 151

Assessing the Evidences for the Origin of Highest Christology in the Gospels

153

7.1 Introduction 7.2 Counter-Evidence in the Gospels? 7.3 Traces in the Gospels

153 153 159

Conclusion

194

Bibliography Scripture and Apocrypha Index Index of Other Ancient Sources Index of Authors Index of Subjects

209 232 240 242 245

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There is a special feeling writing this acknowledgement during Christmas 2016, ten years after I embarked on a journey that took me from a medical career to the study of theology. The idea for this book first came when, while working on my PhD on the historical basis and coherence of the incarnation, I began to wonder why there was absence of disagreement among the earliest Christians concerning the divine status of Christ. I am indebted to Professors Alister McGrath and Richard Burridge for encouraging me to develop this idea and for giving me helpful feedback. I  am grateful to Professor James Dunn, who spent hours discussing the Christology of the earliest Christians with me over coffee in Durham, to Professor Larry Hurtado for a very helpful email exchange, and to Professors Glen Thompson, Clement Shum, Brian Thomas and Sarah Williams for their helpful and amazingly timely feedback. I am thankful for my wonderful colleagues and friends in Hong Kong – in particular, Professor Daniel Chua, Dr Mike Brownnutt, Grace Lee Baughan, Carmen Bat and K.  Y. Wong  – my parents, parents-in-law, daughters Joy, Serene and Evangel and my beloved wife Mary, and my friends at Macedonia Bible Presbyterian Church, for their encouragement, advice and prayer for this project. I  am indebted to the Fan Trust and Tom Chan for supporting my work financially at the University of Hong Kong. I  would like to thank Professor Kang Phi Seng from China Graduate School of Theology for the use of their excellent library facilities. I am grateful to Professors Darrell Bock, Paul Trebilco (the editor for the Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series, Cambridge University Press) and Simon Gathercole (the reader) for their very helpful comments and recommendations for publication. I would like to thank the team at Cambridge University Press – in particular, Beatrice Rehl, Edgar Mendez and Bethany Johnson – for

xv

xvi

Acknowledgements

their assistance, and Dr Lawrence Osborn for his meticulous editorial work. I hope that this monograph will prove worthy of their efforts, though any mistakes remain my responsibility. I would like to acknowledge the scholarly writings of Professors Richard Bauckham, Larry Hurtado, N. T. Wright, Martin Hengel, Richard Burridge, Dale Allison, Darrell Bock, Craig Keener, Ben Witherington III, Simon Gathercole, Aquila Lee, Sigurd Grindheim, Chris Tilling, Matthew Bates, Wesley Hill, Richard Weymouth and Donald Williams. I have found their writings immensely helpful and am grateful that many of them were discovered or recommended to me just in time for the writing of this book. Finally, no words can adequately express my indebtedness to the Lord Jesus for the things He has done. I offer this book with love and humble gratitude to Him who – together with God the Father and Holy Spirit – is worthy of all glory and praise.

1 INTRODUCING THE THEORIES AND APPROACHES CONCERNING THE ORIGIN OF DIVINE CHRISTOLOGY

1.1

Significance of the Question

Jesus of Nazareth is one of the most significant and controversial figures of human civilization (Pelikan 1985; Bennett 2001), and billions of people throughout history have regarded him as divine. But where did this astonishing idea come from? How did a human Jewish preacher come to be regarded as God? Throughout the centuries, there has been intense debate concerning this fascinating question, and in recent years the debate has been fuelled by new arguments and hypotheses. Although a large number of books have already been written on this important topic, and many of them contain valuable insights from which I have learned much, nevertheless their proposals are beset with various problems. These problems include a failure to engage comprehensively with alternative hypotheses, a failure to address adequately the evidence of widespread agreement among the earliest Christians concerning the divinity of Christ and a failure to consider issues related to whether Jesus’ intention was falsified. This book offers a new contribution by addressing these and other issues using transdisciplinary tools. It proposes that Jesus was regarded as truly divine in earliest Christianity because its leaders thought that God demanded them to do so through the following way:  A  sizeable group of them perceived that Jesus claimed and showed himself to be truly divine, and they thought that God vindicated this claim by raising Jesus from the dead. As will be explained in the rest of this book, the term ‘earliest Christianity’ distinguishes my proposal from those (e.g. James Dunn’s Later Unfolding Theory and Maurice Casey’s Later Evolutionary Theory) which fail to recognize the strength of the evidences for earliest highest Christology. The term ‘truly divine’ highlights the need to distinguish between different uses of the word ‘divine’ in early Christianity. ‘God’s demand’ offers a corrective to those 1

2

Introducing the Theories and Approaches

proposals (the Early Evolutionary Theory by Wilhelm Bousset, Rudolf Bultmann, etc.) which neglect the Jewish Theocentric emphasis of earliest Christianity as pointed out by Larry Hurtado (2003), while ‘sizeable group’ avoids the pitfall concerning the subjectivity of the Religious Experience Theory proposed by Hurtado (see Chapter 5). ‘Perceived’ takes into account the earliest Christians’ reflection and interpretation of their experiences, and avoids the pitfall of naive realism. The combination of the perception of Jesus’ claims and resurrection avoids the weaknesses of those proposals (e.g. Hurtado’s theory and Ehrman’s Resurrection and Ascension Theory) which, while recognizing the importance of the earliest Christians’ belief in Jesus’ resurrection, neglect the importance of the earliest Christians’ understanding of Jesus as the supreme communicator of God’s will. Although proposals involving the claims of Jesus have been suggested by others, they have not engaged adequately with alternative hypotheses or with the more recent arguments by Ehrman (2014) and others. This book will remedy these deficiencies and show that, contrary to the views of many scholars, such a proposal is defensible against various objections. In addition to providing a critique of various alternative scholarly attempts to address this important topic, I  shall also synthesize their strengths while avoiding their weaknesses, thus providing a more holistic response compared to what is currently available in the literature. For example, I shall show that, while Dunn insightfully observes that there is never any hint that the traditionalist Jewish Christians found any cause for criticisms in Paul’s Christology (Dunn 2008, 579–580), his proposal that the full recognition of Jesus’ divinity occurred later fail to address adequately the evidences of highest Christology present within Paul’s epistles as Hurtado et al. have argued. On the other hand, Hurtado’s proposal (2003; 2005), while carefully taking into account these evidences, fails to explain Dunn’s observation satisfactorily. My proposal synthesizes the evidences Hurtado cited as well as Dunn’s observation by arguing that, being Christians, the more traditionalist Jewish Christians would all have agreed that what Christ indicated was what ‘God’ demanded. I shall approach the origin of divine Christology as a phenomenon of history subject to the methods of historical enquiry. As such, it would involve a consideration of factors such as the religious, social and cultural background of the earliest Christians, their understanding of sacred texts, their religious experiences, their interactions

Introducing Various Types of Theories

3

with surrounding cultures and the challenges that they faced. It would include an examination of the earliest Christian texts to discern the convictions of their authors concerning the divine status of Christ and how widely their convictions were held among the earliest Christian communities, as well as the construction of hypotheses that attempt to make sense of the evidences. Although this book is primarily a historical-critical study, it also incorporates insights from philosophy, theology and comparative religion. In particular, it defends the appropriateness and demonstrates the merits of utilizing philosophical distinctions (e.g. between ontology and function) and Trinitarian concepts for explaining early Christology, and it incorporates the perspective of comparative religion by examining cases of deification in other contexts. By using tools from various disciplines, this book contributes to bridging the divide between biblical, theological and religious studies, and it demonstrates how a transdisciplinary approach can be useful for biblical scholars and historians studying the New Testament and Christian origins. 1.2

Introducing Various Types of Theories Concerning the Origin of Divine Christology

I shall first introduce various theories concerning the origin of divine Christology.1 The first group of theories (which I  shall call Evolutionary Theories) proposes that divine Christology was not the view of the primitive Palestinian Christian community; rather, the ‘deification’ of Jesus occurred as a significant development resulting from the changing nature of the Christian movement across the first century.2 Noteworthy proponents of such theories include scholars of 1 Only a brief sketch of these proposals will be given here to show the broad outline of the options available for approaching the question. A detailed evaluation of these proposals will be found in the later sections. For a useful summary of different proposals, see Hurtado (2005, 15–27), although it should be noted that my classification of these proposals differs from Hurtado’s, as will be explained below. 2 Hurtado calls it ‘Evolutionary Development’ (2005, 15–16). The problem with Hurtado’s classification is that he includes the view of James Dunn under this category (2005, 19–20), but Dunn explicitly denies the label ‘evolutionary’ for his view. Dunn (1994) sees his own view rather as an ‘unfolding’. While scholars like Bousset and Casey would call such development a ‘deviation’ from the faith of the primitive Palestinian Christian community, Dunn would deny this. C. F. D. Moule (1977, 3) influentially defined an evolutionary model of christological origins (as against a merely developmental one) as involving the progressive ‘accretion of … alien factors that were not inherent from the beginning’.

4

Introducing the Theories and Approaches

the Religionsgeschichtliche Schule (‘history-of-religion school’) of the early twentieth century, a group of scholars at Göttingen that included Wilhelm Bousset, Albert Eichhorn, Hermann Gunkel, Wilhelm Heitmüller and Johannes Weiss. The most influential work that came out of this Schule was Bousset’s Kyrios Christos (Bousset 1970; 1st German edition 1913). Bousset proposed that fairly early in the history of the Christian movement, the Gentile Christians, influenced by their pagan Hellenistic traditions, were led to give divine honours to Jesus. Bousset argued that the application of the title kyrios (‘Lord’) to Jesus originated from Gentile churches outside Palestine, and their faith in turn shaped the beliefs of the apostle Paul, through whom the reverence to Jesus spread widely. This deviated from the faith of the primitive Palestinian Jewish community, whose monotheistic heritage precluded such a high Christology and who regarded Jesus as a merely human messianic figure. As Christianity moved away from its Jewish roots, the increased Gentilization of the Christian church in the first century subsequently caused the deviation to prevail. Although challenged from early on by some scholars (e.g. Rawlinson 1926, who argues that Bousset’s theory has difficulty explaining the maranatha invocation in 1 Cor. 16:22, and Machen 1930), Bousset’s work had tremendous influence on subsequent generations of scholars, including Rudolf Bultmann, Ferdinand Hahn (1969), Reginald Fuller (1965) and Hendrikus Boers (1970). I shall call their proposals ‘Early Evolutionary Theories’. Another view postulates that the highest form of divine Christology began after Paul, towards the end of the first century. This view is held by scholars such as Maurice Casey and James Dunn, though they differ significantly in details.3 Like Bousset, Casey (1991; 1996; 1999) proposes that the deification of Jesus was caused by pagan Hellenistic influence, mediated through the gradually increasing numbers of Gentile Christians who were not sensitive to Jewish monotheism. However, unlike Bousset, Casey locates the full deification of Jesus much later, sometime around AD 80 when the Gospel of John was written. Thus Casey’s view can be called Later Evolutionary Theory. Like Casey, Dunn (1980; 1998; 2003; 2008; 2010) proposes that the full recognition of Jesus as divine occurred much later, during the last two decades of the first century when the Gospel of John was 3 For Dunn’s criticism of Casey, which serves to differentiate their views, see Dunn (1994).

Introducing Various Types of Theories

5

written. Unlike Casey and Bousset, however, Dunn sees this development not as a result of pagan influence, but as a natural unfolding, a Christian extension of trends within Second Temple Jewish monotheism itself. These involved speculations about various figures portrayed as God’s principal agents. I shall refer to Dunn’s proposal as the Later Unfolding Theory. (As explained in later chapters, Ehrman’s Resurrection and Ascension Theory combines aspects of Evolutionary Theory and Later Unfolding Theory. DeConick’s Theological Deduction Theory proposes that the full recognition of Jesus as divine was not present in the primitive Palestinian Christian community, but was present in Paul’s writings as a result of theological deduction involving Jewish ideas, hence her view can be regarded as Early Unfolding Theory.) The last group of theories can be called ‘Explosion Theories’ (one might also call this ‘the Big-Bang theory of Christology’!).4 This proposes that highest Christology was the view of the primitive Palestinian Christian community. The recognition of Jesus as truly divine was not a significant development from the views of the primitive Palestinian Christian community; rather, it ‘exploded’ right at the beginning of Christianity. The proponents of the Explosion view would say that the highest Christology of the later New Testament writings (e.g. Gospel of John) and the creedal formulations of the early church fathers, with their explicit affirmations of the pre-existence and ontological divinity of Christ, are not so much a development in essence but a development in understanding and explication of what was already essentially there at the beginning of the Christian movement. As Bauckham (2008a, x) memorably puts it, ‘The earliest Christology was already the highest Christology.’ Many proponents of this group of theories have been labelled together as ‘the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule’ (Hurtado 2003, 11), and they include such eminent scholars as Richard Bauckham, Larry Hurtado, N.  T. Wright and the late Martin Hengel. Hengel (1974; 1976; 1995) and Hurtado (2003, 13–24) in particular have offered extensive criticisms of Bousset in numerous publications since the 1970s, and they and others have argued that highest Christology can be accounted for within a Jewish rather than Gentile context, such as by appealing to the Jewish concept of divine agency. The view of the ‘New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule’ has been criticized as well 4 The metaphor of explosion is taken from Hurtado (2005, 25). I  thank Gray Kocher-Lindgren for suggesting the metaphor of ‘Big Bang’.

6

Introducing the Theories and Approaches

as defended in recent literature, and it seems to be the emerging consensus among scholars. As New Testament scholar Andrew Chester observes, ‘whereas for much of the twentieth century the dominant view was that high Christology represented something that emerged relatively late and under Gentile or pagan influence, more recently it has been seen as coming about at an early stage and within a Jewish setting’ (Chester 2011, 22).5 Nevertheless, there are disagreements among the proponents of ‘Explosion Theories’ concerning the cause of this explosion. It is noteworthy, however, that some of them have traced the origin of divine Christology back to Jesus himself (see Chapter 7). 1.3

Introducing the Issue of Jesus’ Self-Understanding

Jesus’ self-understanding has traditionally been regarded as the root of the claim of his authority. This is most evidently portrayed by the ‘I AM’ sayings of John’s Gospel. After the criticisms of F. C. Baur (1792–1860) and D.  F. Strauss (1808–1874), however, many argue that this Gospel can no longer be accepted uncritically as a source of authentic words of the historical Jesus (Pannenberg 1968, 327).6 Subsequently, Wrede (1971; 1st German edition 1901)  and others criticized the presupposition that the earlier Gospels recorded historical events uninfluenced by theological interests. These criticisms cast doubts on the traditional view that Jesus regarded himself as truly divine. Over the centuries, various ‘Quests for the Historical Jesus’ (for survey, see Theissen and Merz 1998; Powell 1999; Dunn and McKnight eds. 2005) have yielded a wide range of alternative views concerning Jesus’ self-understanding, such as G G G G

G G

a ‘Liberal Jesus’ (Ritschl 1900; 1st German edition 1882) a religious fanatic (Renan 1924; 1st French edition 1896) a Jewish teacher (Klausner 1989; 1st Hebrew edition 1925) a Hasid (Jewish holy man) (Vermès 1984, 1993, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2008) a religious mystic (Borg 1991, 2006; Chilton 2000) a nonviolent social revolutionary (Horsley 1993)

5 Chester himself argues that Second Temple Judaism’s themes of messianic hope, intermediary figures and visionary traditions of human transformation are important for the origin of early Christian Christology. 6 The historicity and distinctive nature of John’s Gospel continue to be debated; compare, for example, Casey (1996) with Keener (2003).

Introducing the Issue of Jesus’ Self-Understanding G

G

7

someone comparable to a Cynic philosopher (Mack 1988; Crossan 1991) a Jewish apocalyptic prophet (Weiss 1971; 1st German edition 1892; Schweitzer 1968; 1st German edition 1906; Sanders 1985; 1993; Allison 1998; Ehrman 1999; 2014).

The traditional view, however, has continued to be defended by various scholars, such as N. T. Wright and Darrell Bock in recent years (see Chapter 7). In their assessment of the debate, modern scholars are aware that various portrayals of Jesus are also found outside the New Testament (Van Voorst 2000), such as in the ‘Gnostic’ writings (Franzmann 1996), the Arabic writings (Khalidi 2001) and the Jewish Talmud (Schäfer 2007). However, the accounts in Arabic writers and the Jewish Talmud are late and should be treated with great caution. Additionally, many scholars have argued that the contents of the Gnostic gospels indicate that their authors made use of earlier traditions which can be found in the four Gospels and adapted these in accordance with their Gnostic philosophy, and that the four Gospels have greater historical reliability compared to the Gnostic gospels (Jenkins 2001; Gaventa and Hays 2008, 10–15; Hill 2010). Nevertheless, the process of sifting through the four Gospels to determine which sayings or deeds attributed to Jesus can be traced back to the Jesus of history, and whether they provide any indication of his implicit or explicit claims, is fraught with difficulties. To address these difficulties, historians have devised various criteria for determining authenticity, such as the criterion of multiple attestation, the criterion of embarrassment and the criterion of dissimilarity (Harvey 1982; Meier 1991–2009, vol.1; Porter 2000). However, various limitations or fallacies beset these criteria and/or their applications (Keith and Le Donne 2012). For example, the criterion of dissimilarity, which claims that an authentic tradition of Jesus must be dissimilar to both Judaism and the teachings of the early Christians, has been widely regarded as fundamentally flawed in principle. As Harvey (1982) argues in response to the prevalent scepticism following the Second Quest for the Historical Jesus, the culture in which Jesus lived must have imposed certain ‘constraints’ on him, and he would have had to take into account these constraints in order to communicate to his audience. Contrary to the criterion of dissimilarity, it is far more plausible that an influential historical person should be in some ways indebted to his context (in the case

8

Introducing the Theories and Approaches

of Jesus, the first-century Jewish context) and that he should have impact on his followers (the earliest Christians). Hence, other scholars have defended the criterion of ‘double plausibility’, i.e. of context (Jesus and Second Temple Judaism) and consequence (Jesus and Early Christians) (Theissen and Winter 2002). Regardless of the difficulties, historical Jesus scholars are widely agreed that we can know at least the following eight ‘almost indisputable facts’ about Jesus’ life which are listed in Sanders (1985; 1993): (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist. Jesus was a Galilean who preached and healed. Jesus called disciples and spoke of twelve of them. Jesus confined his activity to Israel. Jesus engaged in a controversy about the temple. Jesus was crucified outside Jerusalem by the Roman authorities. After his death, Jesus’ followers continued as an identifiable movement. At least some Jews persecuted at least some members of the new movement.

The self-understanding of Jesus is not in the list. Some have wondered whether it is possible to accurately discern Jesus’ self-understanding or anyone else’s for that matter. In reply, Wright argues that looking at Jesus’ self-understanding is a process neither of psychoanalysis, nor of romantic fiction, but of history. History seeks, among other things, to answer the question:  why did this character act in this way? And among the characteristic answers such questions receive is: he believed, at the core of his being, that it was his duty, his destiny, his vocation, to do so. The study of people’s belief about their own vocation has not been made sufficiently explicit. (Wright 2002, 53; see also Grindheim 2011) Wright makes a good point. Nevertheless, there are disputes concerning whether certain acts of Jesus portrayed in the Gospels (e.g. forgiving the paralytic in Mark 2:1–12) are relevant in the sense of implying a claim to divinity (see discussion in Chapter  7). Others have mentioned the difficulty of excluding the possibility that the early Christians who produced the Gospels adapted the tradition of Jesus’ sayings to suit their own high view of Jesus as well as their own situations (Neyrey 1985; Tuckett 2001, 202–203). Additionally, the

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issue of bias highlighted by Martin Kähler at the end of the nineteenth century presents a challenge which is emphasized by contemporary postmodernist thinkers. Kähler argues that, unlike other figures of the past, Jesus has in every age exerted too powerful an influence on all sorts of people and still makes too strong a claim on everyone. Thus, we cannot have an unbiased historical record of him, nor an unbiased historian assessing the record, and therefore the historical-critical project is completely undermined (Kähler 1964, 92–95; 1st German edition 1892). Likewise, Albert Schweitzer’s highly influential The Quest of the Historical Jesus, which brought a halt to the First Quest, argued against the notion of objectivity of historians writing on Jesus, claiming that they merely produced diverse portraits of Jesus which fitted their own diverse presupposed beliefs (Schweitzer 1968; 1st German edition 1906). 1.4

The Approach of This Book

In this book, I  shall utilize an approach that seeks to overcome the above-mentioned difficulties. Taking seriously the criterion of ‘double plausibility’ proposed by Theissen and Winter (2002) and focusing on the question of what could have caused the early Christians to be biased towards affirming a high view of Jesus in the first place, I shall argue that my proposal mentioned at the beginning of this chapter7 can be justified on the basis of evidences concerning the earliest Christians’ beliefs which are found in their documents. There have been other scholars (e.g. Manson 1961; Witherington 1990; Swinburne 1994; 2003; 2010; Hengel 1995; 2006; 2007; Wright 1996, 2002, 2003, 2013; McDonough 2009) who have also argued for a connection between an early high Christology and the claims of the historical Jesus. However, none of their studies have so far interacted adequately with alternative hypotheses such as that offered by Hurtado,8 as well as the more recent arguments by Peppard (2011) and Ehrman (2014). By comprehensively engaging with alternative 7 That is, Jesus was widely regarded as truly divine in earliest Christianity because its leaders thought that it was God’s demand which was known through the following way: A sizeable group of them perceived that Jesus claimed and showed himself to be truly divine, and they thought that God vindicated this claim by raising Jesus from the dead. 8 While Wright has engaged Hurtado in his more recent writing (see Wright 2013), he seems not to have dealt adequately with Hurtado’s hypothesis that the earliest Christians’ conviction of Jesus’ divinity was formed through an interaction with powerful ‘revelatory’ experiences. See, for example, the response in Hurtado (2014c).

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hypotheses and these more recent arguments, this book avoids these weaknesses. In reply to Kähler, Schweitzer and the postmodernists, one can concede that there might not have been any unbiased historical record of Jesus written by completely neutral observers and that the authors of the New Testament documents could have been biased in favour of affirming his deity alongside his humanity. Nevertheless, the question that needs to be asked is what could have caused the bias of these authors (if they had any) in the first place. As will be argued in the rest of this book, the most probable cause for such bias (if any) and belief in his divinity is that the first disciples perceived that Jesus regarded himself as truly divine and they believed that he was resurrected as a vindication of his claims. Regarding the argument concerning the bias of historians, it is indeed unavoidable that all interpretations of who Jesus was are, by their very nature, interpretations from a particular perspective (Torrance 2001, 217). This is consistent with an epistemological position known as critical realism. Critical realism affirms the existence of a real world independent of the knower (realism). At the same time, it acknowledges that the only access we have to this reality is through the human mind involving reflection, interpretation of information through a grid of psychological states such as expectations, memories and beliefs, and the expression and accommodation of that reality with tools such as mathematical formulae or mental models (hence critical) (Wright 1992b, 32–44; A. McGrath 2001–2003, vol.2, ch.10). With respect to the critical process of knowing, Little insightfully observes that There is no fundamental difficulty in reconciling the idea of a researcher with one set of religious values, who nonetheless carefully traces out the religious values of a historical actor possessing radically different values. This research can be done badly, of course; but there is no inherent epistemic barrier that makes it impossible for the researcher to examine the body of statements, behaviors, and contemporary cultural institutions corresponding to the other, and to come to a justified representation of the other … The set of epistemic values that we impart to scientists and historians include the value of intellectual discipline and a willingness to subject their hypotheses to the test of uncomfortable facts. Once again, review of the history of science and historical

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writing makes it apparent that this intellectual value has effect. There are plentiful examples of scientists and historians whose conclusions are guided by their interrogation of the evidence rather than their ideological presuppositions. Objectivity in pursuit of truth is itself a value, and one that can be followed. (Little 2012, Section 3.2) It is true that the uniqueness of Jesus, which Kähler highlighted, might make the task described by Little more difficult. Some scholars have argued that the attempts of modernity to uncover the historical Jesus have been characterized by diverse conclusions which are largely influenced by the sociocultural, political and religious (or anti-religious) agendas of those engaged in it (Torrance 2001, 216–217). Such agendas might explain the lack of consensus concerning Jesus’ self-understanding. Nevertheless, this does not imply that the task is in principle impossible or that every conclusion is as good as another. On the other hand, it is interesting to note that throughout history there have been those who had confessed their bias against various aspects of Jesus’ story (e.g. his resurrection) or who had approached them from a contrary worldview (e.g. Buddhism), but who changed their views after examining the evidences (e.g. Morison 1930; Williams 2002). What this illustrates is that bias or preconceptions concerning Jesus can be overcome. Therefore, it is not the case that the bias of the scholar and of the writers of ancient texts would necessarily undermine the historical project (although it is helpful to be aware of bias in one’s reading, including the reading of my argument!). What matters is whether the proposed hypothesis is able to account for the evidences, including the ‘uncomfortable facts’.9 With regard to the historical sources concerning Jesus, Ehrman argues that the problems with Paul’s letters are that he did not know Jesus personally and did not tell us very much about Jesus’ teachings and activities, while the problems with the Gospels are that they were not written by eyewitnesses but by highly educated Greeks in contrast with the earliest disciples who were uneducated and spoke Aramaic. Ehrman thus claims that, as stories about Jesus spread, details were changed, episodes were invented and events were exaggerated (Ehrman 2014, ch.3). It is not the purpose of this book to 9 For further discussion of other issues related to postmodernists’ critique of history as well as responses to these criticisms, see, for example, Thiselton (1992); Wolterstorff (1995); Murphy (1997); McCullagh (1998).

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provide a comprehensive defence of the historical reliability of the New Testament against such criticisms; this has been contended for by other scholars such as Daniel Wallace, Darrell Bock, Ben Witherington and Michael Kruger.10 Rather, I  shall argue that the earliest Christian documents contain evidences of widespread conviction of the earliest Christian leaders concerning the divinity of Jesus, and I shall demonstrate that the origination of this widespread conviction is best explained by my proposal. I shall also show that, regardless of whether the details in the Gospels are distorted or not, there are good reasons for thinking that the historical roots of certain details contain the earliest Christians’ perceptions that Jesus gave a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine. 1.5

Clarification of Key Terms

Before I  present my argument, I  shall first explain and defend my definitions of key terms which will be used in subsequent discussions. As I shall show later, a lack of understanding of these terms has resulted in much of the confusion that exists in contemporary historical-critical scholarship concerning the origin of divine Christology. Thus it is of vital importance to start with an exposition of these terms, namely ‘monotheism’, ‘divine’, ‘God’, ‘Creator–creature divide’, ‘ontological’, ‘highest Christology’, ‘being’, ‘person’, ‘earliest Christians’, ‘earliest Christian leaders’, ‘earliest Christianity’ and ‘primitive Palestinian Christian community’. The use of the word ‘monotheism’ has been hotly disputed in contemporary scholarship (see the analysis of the debate between Bauckham, Paula Fredriksen and others in Chapter  3). It is evident that biblical authors accepted the existence of vast numbers of supernatural beings such as angels, and that angels (as well as humans) can be in some sense called gods (e.g. Ps. 82:6) (Thompson 2001, 17–56).11 Nevertheless, as will be explained in Chapter 3, it is

10 See, for example, www.ehrmanproject.com/. The historical reliability of the Gospels has also been questioned by scholars of the so-called Jesus Seminar (Funk 1996; Funk, Hoover and the Jesus Seminar 1997; Funk and the Jesus Seminar 1998). However, their arguments and methodology have themselves been severely criticized (Chilton and Evans 1999a; 1999b). 11 The Scriptures portray angels and humans as sharing a number of similar characteristics as YHWH, such as the ability to have dominion, make moral choices, etc., and that they can act as representatives of YHWH. One crucial distinction, however, is that angels and humans are creatures whereas YHWH is the Creator (see Section 3.2).

Clarification of Key Terms

13

also evident that various biblical texts (e.g. Ps. 96:4–5; Rom. 1:18–25) assert the uniqueness of the one God of Israel as the Creator of all things, on the basis of which all humans owe their ultimate and exclusive allegiance. In this book, unless otherwise stated, I shall use the word monotheism – and the term ‘strict monotheism’; the word ‘strict’ added to emphasize the Creator–creature divide – to refer to the belief in, and the exclusive and ultimate commitment to, the one unique God the Creator. In other words, what I mean by monotheism is similar to what Hurtado calls ‘Ancient Jewish Monotheism’. He does not use this term to refer to the number of beings called ‘god’, but to an exclusive commitment to YHWH with its corresponding condemnation of idolatry (Hurtado 2013a; see Chapters 2 and 3 of this book). Used in the sense explained above, ‘strict monotheism’ does not preclude the belief that there is a plurality of persons within the one unique being of God the Creator (see below); the term ‘Unitarianism’ is used for the view that there is only one person within the one being of God. With respect to the terms ‘divine’ and ‘God’, it should be noted that up to the fourth century many church fathers made distinctions between ‘true God’ and ‘God’, such that there was no clear distinction between the word ‘God’ and creation (Ayres 2004, 4–14). In view of the different senses of the word ‘God’, it is important to ask in what sense Christians thought of Jesus as God (Ehrman 2014, ch.1). In this book, I shall use the term ‘truly divine’ to denote being on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide and of equal ontological status as God the Father, and the term ‘highest Christology’ to label the view that regards Christ as such. I shall now comment on the terms ‘Creator–creature divide’, ‘ontological’ and ‘highest Christology’: 1. ‘Creator–creature divide’:  It has been claimed that the question ‘on which side of the “God/Creation divide” does Jesus exist?’ is anachronistic when asked of the New Testament era (Peppard 2011, 11; stating that John and Hebrews are possible exceptions). Against this, I shall argue in subsequent chapters that Pauline passages such as Rom. 1:18–25 indicate that the Creator–creature divide was of great importance for earliest Christianity and that 1 Cor. 8:6 indicates that Jesus was thought to be on the Creator side of the divide. 2. ‘Ontological’:  It might be objected that engaging in discussions concerning the ontological–functional categories is more a

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theological exercise than a historical one.12 In reply, the discussions engaged in this book is to elucidate what the earliest Christian texts mean (e.g. what does ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ in Phil. 2:6 mean?), and is properly historical.13 The use of the word ‘ontological’ requires qualification. I am not claiming that the New Testament authors used exactly the same concepts or terminologies as those which were used in later doctrinal controversies; there are certainly differences between the language, formulation and thought patterns of the later Greek creedal statements and those of the New Testament (Brown 1994, 171). Nevertheless, while one should be wary of the danger of anachronistic reading of the New Testament texts, one should also be careful not to beg the question against the view that many aspects of the highest Christology of the creedal statements are a development in understanding of what was already essentially there at the beginning of the Christian movement.14 I shall provide a number of brief examples to show that the biblical authors did have an idea of ontology. Commentators have noted that the phrase ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ in Phil. 2:6 expresses an ontological idea (even though the terminology is not as specific and fully developed as the ontological concepts of later patristic discussions). Gordon Fee takes it to be referring to Christ as having that which characterizes the reality of him being God. He argues that μορφῇ was the right word for the dual usage of characterizing both the reality (his being God) and the metaphor (μορφὴν δούλου, ‘form of a slave’ Phil. 2:7) for humanity. In his earthly existence he took on the ‘essential quality’ of what it meant to be a slave (Fee 2007, 377–385; see further, Chapter  2). ‘Having that which characterizes’, ‘reality’, ‘being’ and ‘essential quality’ are all ontological concepts. In a similar vein, Yarbro Collins distinguishes between the functional (e.g. activities like ruling over a universal kingdom, sitting on a heavenly throne, judging human beings) and the ontological (e.g. ‘in the form of God’ Phil. 2:6; which implies the nature of Christ and what kind of being he was), noting that these two senses are implied by Second Temple Jewish and early Christian texts (Yarbro Collins 2008, 57–58; see Chapter  2 of this book). Likewise, Reginald Fuller argues that, while much of 12

Professor Hurtado expressed this view to me in private correspondence. See Bauckham’s replies to Hurtado in Hurtado (2016). This view is affirmed in Bauckham (2008a, x); although it should be noted that Bauckham prefers the term ‘identity’ rather than ‘ontology’. For comments on Bauckham’s usage, see Chapter 2. 13 14

Clarification of Key Terms

15

New Testament Christology is functional, it is not just a quirk of the Greek mind but a universal human apperception that action implies prior being, and that ontic reflection about Yahweh is found even in the Old Testament (e.g. in the ‘I AM’ of Exodus and ‘Deutero-Isaiah’) (Fuller 1965, 247–249). Ontological statements and concerns are also found in Galatians 4:8 (Ἀλλὰ τότε μὲν οὐκ εἰδότες θεὸν ἐδουλεύσατε τοῖςφύσει μὴ οὖσιν θεοῖς) and Hebrews 1:3b (χαρακτὴρ τῆς ὑποστάσεως αὐτοῦ). Hence, while ‘ontological’ issues were more explicitly expressed from the second century onwards as Christians took up and used philosophical categories in the defence and articulation of their faith, the above examples indicate that ontological ideas were implied in the OT and NT writings as well. Likewise, as will be shown below, ideas of ‘person’ and ‘being’ are also implied in these writings. In the latter chapters, it will be argued that there are good reasons for thinking that the earliest Christian leaders would affirm with the pro-Nicene theologians that the Son and the Father are ‘of equal ontological standing’ (the phrase is from Ayres 2004, 236) and within one divine being, even though they did not use the same terminology but (in large measure) expressions from biblical/Jewish tradition which are perhaps more understandable to their immediate audiences.15 The lack of usage of the ontological language of the pro-Nicene theologians in the christological statements of the New Testament writings can be explained by Bauckham’s observation that the Jews in the late Second Temple period did not often talk about divine nature, but they had well known ways of defining the one God by contrasting him with ‘all things’ and affirming him as the sole Creator of all things. Thus, supposing that earliest Christians regarded Jesus as truly divine, the evident way for them to convey this would be to say that he was involved in the creation of ‘all things’ rather than using categories such as divine essence or nature. While creation of all things is a ‘functional’ category, it is performed only by God the Creator according to the ancient Jewish conception (e.g. Isa. 44:24). Therefore, the attribution of such a function to Jesus implies that Jesus was regarded as ontologically truly divine (see Bauckham 1999 15 Understandability does not imply acceptability (e.g. many atheists understand that theists claim that the universe has a Creator, but they do not accept it). While the innovative theology which the earliest Christians attempted to present using these expressions would have been difficult for their audiences to accept, they nevertheless felt a strong compulsion to present them (this is one of the arguments for my proposal; see Section 6.3).

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and his replies to Hurtado in Hurtado 2016;16 see further, Chapters 2 to 4 of this book). Historians have no problem inferring that the New Testament authors thought of Jesus as a human who had to eat, drink, sleep, etc. Indeed, historians would not think that it is anachronistic to do so, even though terminologies which were used in later creedal statements to refer to Jesus’ humanity were not used by New Testament authors to refer to his humanity. To be consistent, historians should also be open to the idea that the New Testament authors, without using later terminologies, also thought of Jesus as truly divine.17 Just as modern historians studying ancient warfare can draw from modern-day knowledge (e.g. of infectious disease, a knowledge that was unavailable to the ancients) to explain historical events (e.g. why soldiers die from contaminated wounds), it can be argued that later knowledge (including more precise knowledge of philosophical language concerning categories) can be employed in the study of earlier history to fulfil an explanatory function (Kitcher 1998, 43). Here, the explanatory function is to show in what sense was Jesus regarded as equal with the Father (e.g. 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11; see Chapter 2) yet lower than the Father (e.g. being obedient to the Father [Phil. 2:7]; obedience is clearly a functional concept, even though Paul did not use the word function). In a similar vein, Bates argues that later Christian texts can be a potential source of evidence for the meaning of the earlier Christian texts which influenced their writing (Bates 2015a, 56–58), while Hill argues that the concern about anachronism and misinterpretation can be addressed by assessing whether the conceptualities found in later texts can make good sense of the data in the earlier texts (Hill 2015; see below). As I  shall show in later chapters, the ontological–functional distinction helps to make sense of what the New Testament authors were trying to convey when they 16 Hurtado objects by mentioning Philo’s claims that God used ‘assistants’ in the subsequent creation of humans (On the Creation 75). However, this objection is irrelevant because ‘creation of all things’ in Bauckham’s argument is referring to the initial creation of heaven and earth as stated by Isa. 44:24. 17 Bauckham makes this point in reply to Hurtado in Hurtado (2016). I  do not, however, find Bauckham’s distinction between ontic and ontological helpful. The word ‘ontic’ is understood as ‘of, relating to, or having real being’ (Merriam Webster Dictionary), and in contemporary philosophical discourse is coloured by Heidegger’s use of the term. The issue here is not whether Jesus has real being but rather the nature of Jesus, in distinction from what he does (though, as explained above, the latter [such as the involvement in creation] can inform our understanding of the former, see further, Chapters 2 to 4). ‘Nature’ belongs to the category of ontology, which concerns the what-ness of an entity.

Clarification of Key Terms

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portray Jesus to be equal with the Father in some sense and yet lower than the Father in another sense, while the lack of usage of this distinction has muddied some recent discussions (e.g. Grindheim 2011). 3. ‘Highest Christology’: In a recent book, Wesley Hill (2015) criticizes the use of the high–low Christology distinction. He thinks that the lack of confidence about the historical credibility of Trinitarian hermeneutics led to the widespread usage of this distinction (Hill 2015, 45), but this usage resulted in the failure to capture the essence of Paul’s thought, thus he advocates a return to Trinitarian concepts as hermeneutical resources. In contrast with the high–low Christology distinction which he thinks is an attempt to measure Jesus’ nearness or distance from the one God, he argues that, ‘in order to identify Jesus, it is necessary to refer to God, but also, in order to identify God, it is necessary to refer to Jesus’ (Hill 2015, 49). To avoid the pitfall of begging the question in favour of Trinitarianism and anachronism, Hill helpfully explains First, the readings of Paul I  will offer in the chapters that follow will be self-consciously historical readings, guided by the canons of critical mode of exegesis. At no point will a Trinitarian conclusion be allowed to ‘trump’ what Paul’s texts may be plausibly shown to have communicated within his own context. Second Trinitarian theologies will be employed as hermeneutical resources and, thus, mined for conceptualities which may better enable a genuinely historical exegesis to articulate what other equally ‘historical’ approaches may have (unwittingly or not) obscured. In other words, if it can be shown that certain critical approaches and conclusions leave crucial texts unsatisfactorily accounted for, or that they construct a version of Paul’s theology with significant unresolved tensions and internal difficulties, and if Trinitarian categories and conceptualities may offer help in achieving solutions to those tensions and difficulties, then my use of those Trinitarian conceptualities may carry its own justification. (Hill 2015, 43) I agree that the high–low Christology distinction by itself does not fully capture all that Paul wants to say about God the Father, Jesus and the Spirit, and that for many scholars who use this distinction ‘there is a conscious effort to bracket out later Trinitarian theology’ (Hill 2015, 19). However, I do not think that utilizing the high–low Christology distinction necessarily requires a rejection of Trinitarian

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concepts. My definition of highest Christology, i.e. ‘being on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide’ is not inconsistent with Hill’s position. One might affirm highest Christology (the way I did) and fill in other details using Trinitarian concepts as hermeneutical resources. The use of high–low Christology distinction remains useful when dialoguing with scholars who deny that Christ was regarded by Paul to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. While I agree with Hill that we can use the concepts and categories of Trinitarian theology as hermeneutical resources (indeed I think that these resources help to illuminate passages like 1 Cor. 8:6, as I argue in the rest of this book), we must nevertheless allow for a category (i.e. low Christology) to be assigned for those who might disagree.18 Moving on to another point concerning the word ‘God’, in addition to what I  said previously concerning ‘monotheism’, humans and angels, there are other ways in which this word can be used in the literature.19 ‘God’ can be used to denote any person (e.g. God the Father) who has the property of being truly divine (such as being on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide, all-knowing, all-powerful, etc.). God can also be used to denote the one being which, according to Trinitarian theologians, includes three persons:  the Father, the Son and the Spirit.20 Some historical-critical scholars might object to the latter usage of the term ‘God’ by claiming that it imports later Trinitarian theological concepts into the historical study of earliest Christianity. In reply, I  have previously mentioned the arguments for postulating ontological ideas and Trinitarian conceptualities in earliest Christian texts (citing Hill, see 18 My other reservation about Hill’s view is that, while he affirms that Jesus was regarded by Paul to be subordinated to God the Father (e.g. Hill 2015, 128–132), he does not answer adequately in what sense this subordination is to be understood. Doesn’t subordinate imply ‘lower’? If it does, ‘lower’ in what sense? How does it avoid being ‘lower’ in an ontological sense? Hill himself draws the ontological–functional distinction when he writes ‘But when it functions as the circumlocution by which the divine name YHWH is indicated, κύριος is not simply the designation of an office or function (i.e. one of lordship or sovereignty) and thereby transferable to different subjects. Rather, in that distinctive usage, it is inseparable from the divine identity and being’ (Hill 2015, 94). However, he does not elaborate and defend the ontological–functional distinction in detail. This book complements his work by elaborating and defending this distinction and by showing in what sense was Jesus subordinate to God the Father (i.e. I show that it was in a functional sense, which does not imply ontological subordination). 19 See also the previous discussion on ‘monotheism’, humans and angels. 20 There was a huge amount of theological discussion among the early church fathers for several centuries over the best terms to use for being, person, nature, etc., and it is beyond the scope of this book to discuss this. See Ayres (2004).

Clarification of Key Terms

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above). In relation to this, I shall observe in Chapters 2 and 3 that, while some historical-critical scholars have argued that the Pauline letters affirm that Jesus is LORD (YHWH), others have raised the concern that such a view commits the heresy of modalism (a form of Unitarianism). I shall show in subsequent chapters that the use of the concepts and categories of Trinitarian theology as hermeneutical resources, together with the use of the distinctions between equivalence and predication and between ‘identified with’ and ‘identified by’, is helpful for making sense of what Paul was trying to affirm. The word ‘being’ is understood here as an entity, something that exists and possesses properties. Thus understood, the word ‘being’ does not imply that God is static as conceived by Plato and his philosophical heirs (cf. Peppard 2011, 11–14). The earliest Christians evidently believed that there exists one God with properties such as being the Creator and Lord (see Chapters 2 and 3). The word ‘person’ has a long and complicated history in discussions of Christian doctrine, and it is beyond the scope of this book to discuss this in detail. Suffice to note that the understanding of person which is adopted here  – as a centre of consciousness with the property of being a subject who possesses various characteristics such as moral agency, rationality, language, intentionality, self-consciousness and ability to enter into suitable relationship with other persons (Audi 1999, 662),21 has been defended elsewhere,22 and, 21 Bates notes that first-century Mediterranean ideas of the person were ‘collectivist and strongly group-embedded, based primarily on gender, geographical origin, the nobility or baseness of family lineage, upbringing, and accomplishments’ (Bates 2015a, 37). He goes on to note, however, that ‘Persons in antiquity nonetheless were capable of exercising personal will, had idiosyncratic affections, and were known as unique, distinct individuals, much as is the case today, so the ancient and contemporary differences should not be overdrawn’ (Bates 2015a, 37). 22 See Awad (2014), who advances Pannenberg’s view that the Triune persons should be understood as distinct centres of consciousness and offers criticisms of a wide range of modernist and postmodernist views regarding personhood. He points out that the modernists neglected relationality, while the postmodernists’ excessive attention to relationship with ‘the other’ and its centralization of relationship in terms of ‘personhood is relationality’ instead of ‘person in relation’ threaten to swallow the self and its personal particularity into ‘the other’; i.e. ‘of being totally immersed in the other’s otherness and almost becoming part of it, so that the one’s and the other’s particularity and otherness (or even beyond-ness) would ultimately vanish … nullifies particularity by means of a new, post-communist-like fashion of neo-collectivism’ (Awad 2014, 132). He also objects to theologian Robert Jenson’s identification of Father, Son and Spirit as three identifying activities, and Paul Fiddes’s reduction of divine subjects to relations, arguing that freedom is an attribute of active agents and that (citing Mark Heim) a dissipation of being will eventually rule out the reality of ‘relation’ itself, with no distinctive persons or ‘ones’ to have a relation.

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as I shall show below, it helps us make sense of the New Testament data. Based on this understanding, one can think of the Trinity as one being with three centres of consciousness, each of which has the property of being a person as well as being truly divine (for a defence of this view, see Moreland and Craig 2003; Hasker 2013). Some historians might object to the use of these philosophical definitions for studying first-century texts. In response, I shall show in the rest of this book that these definitions fit the portrayals of God and Jesus in the first-century New Testament texts and help us make sense of them (see the above discussion on Kitcher 1998 and Hill 2015). To give some brief examples here: Paul wrote of the oneness of God having the property of being the Creator of the universe (Rom. 1:20; 3:30). When Jesus prayed ‘not my will but yours be done’ (Mark 14:36), his prayer evinced moral agency, rationality, language, intentionality and self-consciousness:  He was evidently aware that he was not talking to himself but to another person – the Father – whom he was willing to obey (see also Phil. 2:8). It will be argued in subsequent chapters that texts such as 1 Cor. 8:6 indicate that there is a plurality of persons within the one being of God. I shall define ‘earliest Christians’ as those who claimed to follow Jesus during the period from c. AD 30 (shortly after the crucifixion of Jesus) to 62, when Philippians, the last of the earliest datable Christian documents viz. the seven undisputed Pauline epistles, is widely regarded by scholars to have been written.23 As will be argued in later chapters, the Pauline epistles reflect the widespread christological conviction among Christians from AD 30 to 62. Given the proximity of this time frame to the historical figure of Jesus, a number of these earliest Christians would have known him personally. In this book, ‘earliest Christian leaders’ refers to the apostles, such as members of ‘the Twelve’24 and Paul, as well as their co-workers such as Silas, Timothy, etc. (for a discussion of the historical evidences of Jesus’ earliest followers and their competitors [the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Essenes, the Samaritans and others], see Meier 1991–2009, vol.3).25 23 For the authenticity of these seven letters, see Dunn (2003); a number of scholars have argued for the authenticity of other letters; see, for example, Carson and Moo (2005). 24 Here, I  am using ‘the Twelve’ as referring to a specific group of apostles thus designated in the New Testament (e.g. 1 Cor. 15:5), rather than referring to the number of such apostles. In any case, the absence of Judas Iscariot after the crucifixion is not relevant to the argument I will be making in this monograph. 25 Concerning the existence of ‘the Twelve’ during the ministry of the historical Jesus, the evidences Meier mentions include multiple attestation in Markan tradition,

An Overview of the Rest of This Book

21

Some scholars have claimed that Christianity was wildly diverse at the beginning of its history and that we should speak of ‘earliest Christianities’ rather than ‘earliest Christianity’. They have argued that ‘throughout the first century, and from the earliest evidence we have in Q, Thomas, and Paul, there were many different groups that claimed Jesus as their founder’ (Cameron and Miller 2004, 20). Yet it is evident from the quotation that even these scholars would acknowledge this common element among the supposedly existent diverse groups: Despite their differences they all claim to follow Jesus (I address the arguments of these scholars in Chapter 5). By defining ‘Christians’ broadly as ‘those who claimed to follow Jesus’ rather than as ‘those who followed certain doctrines about Jesus’, I avoid begging the question in my historical argument by not assuming that Christians were those who regarded Jesus as truly divine and that this was the ‘orthodox’ view. I shall define ‘earliest Christianity’ as the religion of those who claimed to follow Jesus during the period from c. AD 30 to 62; this definition leaves open the question concerning the extent of diversity within this religion. In subsequent chapters I shall show, on the basis of evidences rather than definition, that there was widespread acknowledgement in earliest Christianity that Jesus was truly divine. I shall define ‘the primitive Palestinian Christian community’ as a subset of the ‘earliest Christians’: This community would include Christians who existed before the first Pauline epistle was written, and it would include the most influential members of the very first Christian community, such as members of ‘the Twelve’ who had followed Jesus closely for some time, as well as their first converts. 1.6

An Overview of the Rest of This Book

My argument in this book shall proceed by way of answering the following two historical questions: (1) (2)

Was Jesus regarded as truly divine among the earliest Christians, and If so, what caused them to do so.

Johannine tradition, the ‘Q tradition’ (Matt. 19:28 and Luke 22:30), the diverse yet largely overlapping lists of names, the extremely early tradition in 1 Cor. 15:5, as well as the argument from embarrassment relating to the role of Judas Iscariot as one of the Twelve (Meier 1991–2009, vol.3: 128–147).

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Introducing the Theories and Approaches

In Chapters  2 to 4, I  assess the current scholarly debate concerning the first question. Chapter 2 summarizes the case that has been put forward by scholars of the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule for thinking that highest Christology was found among the earliest Christians. In Chapters 3 and 4, I discuss the objections by critics and argue that they are inadequate. Chapter  5 shows that there are good reasons for thinking that the Pauline letters reflect the widespread conviction within earliest Christianity that Jesus was truly divine. I  point out that either the explanation for the origin of this widespread conviction involves the earliest Christians perceiving Jesus implicitly or explicitly claiming to be truly divine, or it does not involve this. I interact with several proposals for the latter possibility and illustrate the significant problems which beset this kind of proposal. In the rest of the book, I  show how these and other problems can be avoided or resolved by the proposal that the earliest Christians did indeed perceive that Jesus claimed to be truly divine. In Chapter 6, I argue that it would have been difficult and disadvantageous for the earliest Christians to originate and maintain the idea that the human Jesus whom they had lived with should be recognized as truly divine alongside God the Father. I demonstrate that, on the other hand, evidences from first-century texts indicate that the earliest Christians regarded Jesus as the primary communicator of God’s demands, they were evidently concerned about accurately passing on Jesus’ teachings, and that the best historical explanation for a wide variety of peculiar beliefs and practices of the earliest Christians is that they were following Jesus. I go on to explain an important corollary of the above observations:  If the earliest Christians knew that Christ had himself indicated that he was not divine, or that he did not indicate that he was divine, then it is unlikely that they would have come to the widespread acknowledgement that he was truly divine. On the other hand, the proposal that Jesus had clearly indicated that he regarded himself as truly divine would adequately explain how the highest Christology of the earliest Christians could have been held by even the more traditionalist Jewish Christians. Because they were Christians, they would all have agreed that what Christ indicated was what God demanded that they believe. I argue that this indication would have to be clear in its original setting to a significant number of disciples, for if it had not been so, we would have expected extensive

An Overview of the Rest of This Book

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discussions and debates among the earliest Christians rather than widespread agreement concerning the divinity of Jesus. In Chapter  7, I  tackle the question ‘is there any evidence in the Gospels that Jesus gave a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine?’ I defend the claim that certain ‘pre-resurrection’ and ‘post-resurrection’ passages contain this evidence. In Chapter 8, I defend the above conclusion against a number of objections that are based on theological and philosophical assumptions. I  also summarize the discussion of previous chapters under fourteen historical considerations and conclude that the alternative hypotheses do not explain these considerations as adequately as the proposal defended in this book. I end this book by testing these considerations against potential counter-examples involving the deification of human figures in various socio-religious contexts. I show that, instead of being genuine counter-examples to my proposal, these cases serve to illustrate the strength of my proposal.

2 THE HIGHEST CHRISTOLOGY WAS PRESENT AMONG THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANS :  THE EVIDENCES

2.1

Introduction

As mentioned in Chapter 1, the proposal I am defending is that Jesus was widely regarded as truly divine in earliest Christianity because its leaders thought that it was God’s demand, which was known through the following way:  A  sizeable group of them perceived that Jesus claimed and showed himself to be truly divine, and they thought that God vindicated this claim by raising Jesus from the dead. In this chapter, I shall summarize the case which has been put forward by scholars of the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule for thinking that highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians. In particular, I shall focus on their examination of Pauline texts such as 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11,1 as well as the devotional practices and attitudes reflected in these texts. The evidence in the Pauline epistles is highly significant, as they reflect the christological convictions present among the earliest Christians. As Hurtado (2003, 85–86) observes, Pauline Christianity is the earliest form of the Christian movement to which we have direct access from undisputed first-hand sources. Furthermore, Paul’s letters, which are addressed to Christian circles already established and operative in the AD 50s, also incorporate and reflect emergent Christian traditions of belief and religious practice from still earlier years. Moreover, Paul’s own associations with Christian circles, which include important Jewish-Christian figures such as Peter, James, Barnabas and others, go back to his conversion, which is to be 1 The reason for focusing on these Pauline passages, rather than other New Testament passages that express Jesus’ divinity more explicitly (e.g. John 1:1–14; 20:28), is that the scholarly consensus regards Pauline passages as the earliest evidences we have concerning the beliefs of the earliest Christians. Therefore, in the context of my argument where I attempt to trace the origination of the belief in Jesus’ divinity back to Jesus himself, the earliest evidence is of greater significance.

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Introduction

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dated approximately AD 32–34, and so his acquaintance with beliefs and practices of Christian circles is both wide and extremely early. In the next section, I shall focus the discussion on two Pauline passages that clearly indicate a ‘highest Christology’, 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11. It is universally recognized by historical-critical scholars that 1 Corinthians and Philippians are genuine letters of Paul, written about twenty-five years and thirty-two years respectively after the crucifixion of Jesus. While many scholars think that Phil. 2:6–11 is a pre-Pauline hymn, Fee (2002, 65) makes a good point when he writes that, even if this passage incorporates material that did not originate from Paul, its message is certainly what Paul affirms. Therefore, for the practical purposes of discussing Paul’s Christology, it can be assumed that Paul is the ‘author’ of this passage. It might be objected that there are other passages in the Pauline corpus which are apparently counter-evidences to a highest Christology. These passages will not be ignored, but they will be addressed in this and the next chapter.2 It might also be objected that the number of explicit statements in the undisputed letters of Paul that are relevant to Christ’s deity seems to be surprisingly small. In reply, one must take into account what is presuppositional for Paul and his readers. Fee argues well when he writes that doctrines which are thus presupposed can be referred to by Paul without the need for full explication and that the most obvious illustration of this is Paul’s undoubted monotheism, which finds explicit expression only four times in the corpus (Rom. 3:30; 1 Cor. 8:4, 6; Eph. 4:6; 1 Tim. 2:5; it should be noted that only the first two belong to the undisputed letters of Paul). Nevertheless, it is evident that monotheism lies behind not only scores of Pauline texts (e.g. 1 Thess. 1:9–10; 1 Cor. 1:9), but also Paul’s entire theological enterprise. Paul’s understanding concerning Christ’s pre-existence and divinity likewise seems to be such a presupposed doctrine, and is only occasionally made explicit (Fee 2002, 64; 2007, 16). Concerning the rarity of the designation of Jesus as God in the New Testament in general, R. T. France rightly notes that the explicit use of God-language about Jesus was so shocking in the Jewish context that even when the beliefs underlying it were firmly established, it was easier, and perhaps more politic, to express these beliefs in less direct terms. Hence, the wonder is not that the New Testament so 2 For discussion of other Pauline christological passages not covered here, see Dunn (1998); Fee (2007).

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seldom describes Jesus as God, but that in such a milieu it does so at all. There must therefore have been a very strong compulsion behind such a radical conversion of language (France 1982, 25; I shall discuss what the ‘compulsion’ might be in Chapters  5 to 7). Murray Harris helpfully summarizes five reasons why the term θεός rarely denotes Jesus in the New Testament: (1) (2) (3)

(4)

(5)

The term usually refers to the Father. Such reserved usage is suited to protect the personal distinction between Son and Father. By reserving it for the Father, New Testament writers were highlighting the Son’s functional subordination to the Father (see Chapters 3 and 4 of this book). If Jesus had been regularly called God by the early Christians, problems would have been created for their evangelistic efforts to the Jews, who would have thought that Christians had given up monotheism. Such reservation in usage prevents eclipsing the humanity of Jesus (Harris 1992; 1994, 99).

With this preamble, let us proceed to examine 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11. 2.2

1 Corinthians 8:6 ἀλλ’ ἡμῖν εἷς θεὸς ὁ πατήρ, ἐξ οὗ τὰ πάντα καὶ ἡμεῖς εἰς αὐτόν, καὶ εἷς κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, δι’ οὗ τὰ πάντα καὶ ἡμεῖς δι’ αὐτοῦ (1 Cor. 8:6) Yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist. (1 Cor. 8:6 NRSV)

This is one of the most important christological passages in the epistles of Paul. Surprisingly, this passage has not been given adequate attention in a number of recent books on early Christology (e.g. Peppard 2011 and Ehrman 2014). Bauckham argues that this passage is composed from two sources. The first is the Shema (Deut. 6:4): ‘The LORD [YHWH in Hebrew; substituted by κύριος in Greek-speaking Jewish circles of the first century and in the earlier Septuagint] our God, the LORD, is one’; cf. 1 Cor. 8:6 ‘For us there is one God, the Father … and one Lord

1 Corinthians 8:6

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(κύριος), Jesus Christ.’ The second source is a Jewish monotheistic formula which refers to all things to have come from (Greek ἐξ) and through (δι’) the one Creator God (e.g. Rom. 11:36a; see Bauckham 1999, 37–39). With regard to the first source, Bauckham argues that Paul has rearranged the words in the Shema to produce an affirmation of both one God, the Father, and one κύριος, Jesus Christ. It is evident that Paul is not adding to the one God of the Shema a κύριος whom the Shema does not mention. Rather, he is referring to Jesus as the κύριος whom the Shema affirms to be one (Bauckham 1999, 37–38). While κύριος could merely be a polite form of address (e.g. ‘master’, ‘sir’, ‘owner’ or ‘teacher’), it is also used extensively in the Septuagint as a title of divinity and to translate YHWH (Rösel 2007). The rearrangement of the words of the Shema indicates that the κύριος in 1 Cor. 8:6 should not be understood as merely referring to a ‘master’ etc.; rather, it is referring to YHWH who is identified by Jesus. This inference is consistent with the highly significant observation that in a number of citations of Old Testament passages which originally have to do with YHWH (e.g. Joel 2:32), Paul applies the passages to Jesus (e.g. Rom. 10:9–13), making him the κύριος (Hurtado 2003, 112; Capes 1992). With respect to 1 Cor. 8:6, if Paul were treating God the Father and Lord Jesus as separate beings, this would be ditheism (Bauckham 1999, 37–39). Hence, the only possible way to understand Paul, given his monotheistic stance (see Chapter 3), is that he regards Jesus and God the Father to be within the unique being of the one LORD and one God affirmed by the Shema (see the explanations on the use of the terms ‘being’ and ‘person’ in Chapter 1). James McGrath objects that Paul is not necessarily splitting the Shema (although he acknowledges that this is grammatically possible), as Paul could be merely adding a confession concerning the Lord Jesus Christ alongside it (J. McGrath, 2009, 40–41). The view that Paul splits the Shema and includes Jesus within the unique being of the one God YHWH, however, fits better with Bauckham’s observation that the second source for the statement in 1 Cor. 8:6 is a Jewish monotheistic formula which refers to all things to have come from (Greek ἐξ) and through (δι’) the one Creator God. Bauckham argues that Paul uses the monotheistic formula in Rom. 11:36a: ‘from (ἐξ) him and through (δι’) him and to him are all things (τὰ πάντα)’, and that there are parallels of this formula in Jewish writings (e.g. Josephus, B.J. 5.218; Philo, Cher. 127; Heb. 2:10) (Bauckham 1999,

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37–39). Collins and Collins’s alternative suggestion that the ‘all things’ (τὰ πάντα) in 1 Cor. 8:6 is referring to the new creation spoken of in 2 Cor. 5:16–18 (Collins and Collins 2008, 112, 208)3 fails to consider Bauckham’s argument. Moreover, 2 Cor. 5:16–18 does not speak of all things (τὰ πάντα) coming through (δι’) something, whereas both 1 Cor. 8:6 and Rom. 11:36 do, and the context of Rom. 11:36 indicates that ‘all things’ (τὰ πάντα) is literally referring to all things, heaven and earth included, and not only to ‘new creation’.4 The implication of 1 Cor. 8:6 that Christ was involved in the work of creating heaven and earth is strengthened by evidences in other first-century texts which indicate that this was how Christ was understood. For example, Col. 1:16 states that in Christ ‘all things (τὰ πάντα) in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers – all things have been created through him and for him’ (NRSV). Likewise, Hebrews 1:2, ‘but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds.’ Schrage has objected to the view that Paul affirms a highest Christology by arguing that Christ is seen only as the mediator of creation and salvation and not its initiator nor its end (Schrage 2002, 170). However, he seems not to have considered Bauckham’s argument from Rom. 11:36: that God is not only the efficient cause of creation (‘from him’) and the final cause or goal of all things (‘to him’), but also the instrumental cause (‘through him’), which expresses the Jewish monotheistic concern that God used no other entity to carry out his work of creation, but accomplished it alone. This is evident in Isa. 44:24, which states, ‘Thus says the LORD, your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb: I am the LORD, who made all things, who alone (‫ )יִּ֔דַבְל‬stretched out the heavens, who by myself spread out the earth’ (NRSV). While Rom. 11:36a simply refers to God, in 1 Cor. 8:6 Paul has divided it between God and Christ (from whom are all things and we for him [God the Father] … through whom are all things and we through him [Lord Jesus Christ]), applying to God two of the prepositions that describe God’s relationship as Creator to all things (‘from’ and ‘for’) and the third preposition (‘through’ [δι’]) to Christ. Hence, Paul includes Christ in this exclusively divine work of 3 Collins and Collins also suggest that Paul could be identifying Christ with pre-existent personified wisdom in 1 Cor. 8:5–6. This view is addressed in Chapter 3. 4 For example, the answer to the rhetorical question ‘Or who has given a gift to him, to receive a gift in return?’ (Rom. 11:35 is clearly ‘no one’, because everything (and not only things in new creation) comes from God.

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creation by giving to him the role of instrumental cause (Bauckham 1999, 37–39). Thus, and in response to Schrage, even though Christ is mentioned in 1 Cor. 8:6 as the mediator of creation and not its initiator nor its end, the mentioning of Christ as the mediator through whom all things come is already sufficient to imply that Paul does not regard Christ as part of ‘all things’. Rather he regards Christ to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. Hence, Paul regards Jesus as truly divine, i.e. within the being of the one Creator God YHWH (the distinction between Christ as mediator and God the Father as initiator and end can be understood in terms of different functional roles which they perform, and which does not imply ontological subordination; see Chapters 3 and 4). Finally, Tilling makes a helpful observation about the context of 1 Cor. 8:6. He notes that just a few verses earlier (1 Cor. 8:1–3) Paul emphasizes the relational monotheistic knowing of love for God. In verse 6 Paul includes Christ directly in this relational dynamic using a text in Deuteronomy that was central to the daily prayer life of Jews and to the relationship between YHWH and Israel, and this indicates that Paul regards Christ as truly divine (Tilling 2012, 91; see further, Section 2.5). It should be noted that Bauckham uses the word ‘identity’ rather than ‘being’. Bauckham argues that first-century Jews were primarily concerned about who YHWH, the unique God, is (divine identity) rather than what divinity is (divine nature), and he thinks that The whole category of divine identity and Jesus’ inclusion in it has been fundamentally obscured by the alternative of ‘functional’ and ‘ontic’, understood to mean that either Christology speaks simply of what Jesus does or else it speaks of his divine nature. Once the category of divine identity replaces those of function and nature as the primary and comprehensive category for understanding both Jewish monotheism and early Christology, we can see that the New Testament’s lack of concern with the divine nature of Christ is by no means an indication of a merely functional Christology. We can see that, throughout the New Testament texts, there is a clear and deliberate use of these characteristics of the unique divine identity to include Jesus in that identity. Once we have rid ourselves of the prejudice that high Christology must speak of Christ’s divine nature, we can see the obvious fact that the Christology of divine

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Highest Christology Present Among Earliest Christians identity common to the whole New Testament is the highest Christology of all. It identifies Jesus as intrinsic to who God is. (Bauckham 2008a, 31)

Scholars have raised objections to Bauckham’s usage of the category of ‘divine identity’. For example, Hill thinks that Bauckham’s notion runs the risk of implying modalism (Hill 2015, 118). I agree with Bates that it is more appropriate to speak of a ‘Christology of Divine persons’ than a ‘Christology of Divine Identity’ (Bates 2015a, 176). Additionally, while Bauckham wants to avoid saying that the New Testament affirms a merely functional Christology, Dunn asks ‘How different is it to affirm that the first Christians saw Jesus as included in the divine identity from affirming that they saw Jesus as exercising divine functions?’ (Dunn 2010, 142–143). My argument here is that Jesus was truly divine alongside God the Father and that there is only one being (i.e. YHWH) that is truly divine, such that the only possible way to understand Paul is to interpret him as affirming that Jesus and God the Father are both within this being. Therefore, using the word ‘being’ rather than ‘identity’ clarifies that the conclusion warranted here is more than affirming that Jesus exercised divine functions. Additionally, as explained in Chapter 1, a being can include a plurality of persons, thus modalism is avoided. Moreover, it will be argued in Chapter 3 that the notion of functional subordination (as opposed to ontological subordination) is helpful for making sense of many Pauline passages. Here, it is important to understand the distinction between ‘identify by’ and ‘identify with’. To ‘identify by’ is to say that something can be recognized or represented by an aspect of that thing, without implying that that aspect is equivalent to that thing. For example, a certain person David can be identified by certain unique facial features, but he is not equivalent to those features (he obviously has other parts). On the other hand, to ‘identify with’ is to assert equivalence (‘=’). For example, a certain David is identical with the person who killed Goliath; they are one and the same. We can make the distinction between the inference that ‘Paul identifies YHWH by Jesus’ (i.e. Jesus represents YHWH; this is consistent with the idea that Jesus is a person within YHWH, alongside God the Father) and ‘Paul identifies YHWH with Jesus’ which implies Jesus = YHWH: this would be Unitarianism. Paul is clearly not a Unitarian. In his epistles, he distinguishes the person of God

1 Corinthians 8:6

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the Father from the person of the Lord Jesus, such as in 1 Cor. 8:6. Additionally, since Paul also calls God the Father ‘Lord’ (κύριος, the word used as a substitute for YHWH) in the same letter (1 Cor. 3:19–23), it can be inferred that ‘one Lord, Jesus Christ’ in 1 Cor. 8:6 is not intended to imply that one Lord (YHWH) = Jesus Christ (which would exclude the Father from YHWH and imply that the Father is not truly divine). Rather, ‘one Lord, Jesus Christ’ implies that the ‘one Lord’ (YHWH) can now be identified by Jesus. Likewise, since ‘one Lord, Jesus Christ’ parallels ‘one God, the Father’, it can be inferred that ‘one God, the Father’ is not intended to imply that one God = Father (which would imply that Jesus is not truly divine). Rather, ‘one God, the Father’ implies that the ‘one God’ can now be identified by the Father. One might ask:  Does not the confession ‘Jesus is Lord’ implies that Jesus  =  YHWH, which would be a form of Unitarianism? In reply, there is more than one way in which ‘is’ can be used. It can be used for equivalence (‘=’) and also predication (for example ‘the rose is red’ does not mean rose = red, rather, it means that the rose has the property of being red). Since Paul also calls God the Father ‘Lord’ in 1 Cor. 3:19–23, ‘Jesus is Lord’ should not be understood as Jesus = YHWH, rather it should be understood as ‘Jesus has the property of being Lord (just like God the Father)’ such that the ‘one Lord’ can be identified by Jesus, as explained above. Dunn raises an objection by claiming that 1 Cor. 8:6 does not imply that Jesus was personally pre-existent, but only that the pre-existent Divine Wisdom was now to be recognized in and as Christ. He points to a sequence of correlations between Pauline christological passages and the reflection on Divine Wisdom in earlier Jewish writings, according to which Divine Wisdom is ‘before all things and hold all things together’, the one ‘through whom God made all things’, etc. Citing 1 Cor. 1:24, ‘But to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God,’ he argues that, for Paul, Christ is identical with Divine Wisdom (Dunn 1998, 269–275). In reply, it should be noted that, in 1 Cor. 8:6, Paul does not say that ‘by whom are all things’ is ‘Christ as Divine Wisdom’; rather, Paul says it is the ‘one Lord’ Jesus Christ by whom are all things, where ‘Lord’ is evidently a personal entity. In other words, it is the person of Christ by whom are all things. This is supported by the observation that the ‘one Lord’ is placed vis-à-vis ‘many lords’ (1 Cor. 8:5), where ‘lords’ are evidently personal entities. Hence, it is the person of

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Christ that is pre-existent. The conclusion that Paul conceived of the person of Christ as pre-existent is also evident from Phil. 2:6–7 (see Section 2.3). As for 1 Cor. 1:24, the context makes it clear that it is ‘the word of the cross’ (v.18) and the preaching of ‘Christ crucified’ (v.23) which is foolishness to the Gentiles who are perishing; it is this ‘foolishness of the message preached’ (v.21) which God uses to save those who believe, and it is this ‘foolishness of God’ (v.25) that is wiser than men. In other words, what Paul is conveying through the phrase ‘Christ … the wisdom of God’ (v.24) is not that the person of Christ is identical with Divine Wisdom. Rather, what Paul is saying is that the preaching of the crucified Christ is the manifestation of God’s wisdom, over and against the human wisdom of the Greeks (Fee 2007, 104). While Dunn links the reference to Jesus as the ‘firstborn in creation’ in Col. 1:15 to the Wisdom in Prov. 8:22–25 (Dunn 1998, 269–275), Fee argues that this is misleading. Fee observes that Prov. 8:22–25 in the LXX has quite different words from those used in Colossians and conveys a different point. In particular, πρωτότοκος (firstborn) is used in Col. 1:15 as a metaphor to convey the sense that Christ is pre-eminent and that he holds the rights of inheritance with regard to every created thing. This sense occurs nowhere in the entire wisdom tradition (Fee 2007, 249–251, 320–321, 320 n.68; see also McDonough 2009, 175–179).5 Finally, the numerous correlations with Divine Wisdom do not have to be taken as implying that Christ is identical with it. Rather, it could be the case that Paul and other New Testament writers mined the language and concepts associated with Divine Wisdom to fashion christological formulae, confessions and hymns, in order to express the transcendent glory they saw in the face of Jesus (Capes 2008, 136). In other words, they intend to convey that Christ is analogous to Divine Wisdom in some (not all) senses. Hence, Dunn’s objection based on correlations with Divine Wisdom is unconvincing.

5 For studies related to Wisdom Christology, the idea that the early disciples considered Jesus to be the embodiment of Divine Wisdom. see Suggs 1970; Witherington 1994; Bultmann 1997; for criticisms, see Lee 2005; McDonough 2009; see also the preceding sections. As various commentators have observed, ‘firstborn’ can have non-literal meaning. For example, even though Manasseh was born first literally (Gen. 41:50–51), Jeremiah 31:9 calls Ephraim ‘firstborn’ because he is pre-eminent over Manasseh.

Philippians 2:6–11 2.3

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Philippians 2:6–11 6

ὃς ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ ὑπάρχων οὐχ ἁρπαγμὸν ἡγήσατο τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ, 7ἀλλὰ ἑαυτὸν ἐκένωσεν μορφὴν δούλου λαβών, ἐν ὁμοιώματι ἀνθρώπων γενόμενος:  καὶ σχήματι εὑρεθεὶς ὡς ἄνθρωπος 8ἐταπείνωσεν ἑαυτὸν γενόμενος ὑπήκοος μέχρι θανάτου, θανάτου δὲ σταυροῦ. 9διὸ καὶ ὁ θεὸς αὐτὸν ὑπερύψωσεν καὶ ἐχαρίσατο αὐτῷ τὸ ὄνομα τὸ ὑπὲρ πᾶν ὄνομα, 10ἵνα ἐν τῷ ὀνόματι Ἰησοῦ πᾶν γόνυ κάμψῃ ἐπουρανίων καὶ ἐπιγείων καὶ καταχθονίων, 11καὶ πᾶσα γλῶσσα ἐξομολογήσηται ὅτι κύριος Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς εἰς δόξαν θεοῦ πατρός. Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Phil. 2:6–11 NRSV) This is another significant Pauline christological passage which has received a tremendous amount of scholarly attention. It is impossible to cover all the fine details of this masterful passage in this chapter – to do so would require several monographs. In what follows, I shall provide a succinct presentation of a number of points that are of significance for the argument of this book. To begin, the implications of the pre-existence of Christ can be established by considering verse 7 and its relationship with verse 6. By saying that Christ ‘became in the very likeness (ὁμοιώματι) of humankind’ (Phil. 2:7), it is unlikely that Paul was saying that Christ was a different kind of human who chose to take on the likeness of other humans. Rather, in view of the parallel with Rom. 8:3 (‘God … sending his own Son in the very likeness (ὁμοιώματι) of sinful flesh’) and Gal. 4:4 (‘born under the law’), Phil. 2:7 should be understood as a reference to the beginning of his existence as a human (Dunn 1998, 284–287). It is evident from other passages in his epistles that Paul considers Christ to have taken up full humanity. For example, the full humanity of Christ is required for Paul’s Second Adam

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Christology  – based on passages such as 1 Cor. 15:21–22, 44b-49; Rom. 5:12–21 – to work (Fee 2007, 513–529). Fee argues that Paul’s choice of ὁμοιώματι could be understood as an expression of his belief that in becoming human, Christ did not thereby cease to be divine, thus emphasizing that he is similar to our humanity in some respects and dissimilar in others. Fee explains that ‘The similarity lies with his full humanity; in his incarnation he was “like” in the sense of “the same as”. The dissimilarity in this case has to do with his never ceasing to be “equal with God” ’ (Fee 2002, 82–83, n.59). Since Phil. 2:7 should be read as a reference to the beginning of Christ’s existence as a human, it would present an intolerable redundancy (the one already a human now beginning to exist as a human) if ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ in verse 6 is taken to refer to Christ as human (Wright 1992a, 91–92; Fee 2007, 377–378). Hence, ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ cannot be interpreted as referring to a human who was in the image of God. It has to refer to something else, a non-human pre-existing his existence as a human. Such a pre-existence cannot be taken as pre-existence in the mind of God (Macquarrie 1998, 64, 111), or as the expression of the pre-existent will of God (Hooker 1993, 78–79), because Christ is said to have made the choice of emptying himself before his existence as a human, and only a person can make a choice. As Wright observes, Phil. 2:6–11 attributes a conscious choice – a choice which can be used as an ethical example – to this pre-existent one. ‘No mere personification, then, but a person, a conscious individual entity, is envisaged’ (Wright 1992a, 97). Therefore, ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ should be taken as referring to Christ as a non-human person pre-existing his existence as a human. What is the nature of such a person? One important area of debate concerns the meaning of the word μορφῇ, which occurs in verses 6 and 7 and nowhere else in the Pauline corpus.6 A number of scholars in the past have argued that μορφῇ is roughly synonymous with εἰκὼν (‘image’), which is used for Adam in Gen 1:26–27 LXX, and claimed that the passage intends a contrast between Christ and Adam. This view has been widely rejected by contemporary scholarship. Among other things, it has been shown that μορφῇ is not synonymous with εἰκὼν (Wallace 1966). Moreover, 6 The word does not occur in other New Testament writings other than the disputed longer ending of Mark (Mark 16:12); it occurs seven times in the LXX (Judg. 8:18; Job 4:16; Isa. 44:13; Dan. 3:19; Tob. 1:13; Wis. 18:1; 4 Macc. 15:4) and is also found in other classical and Hellenistic Greek literature. See Johannes Behm, ‘μορφῇ’, in Kittel (1964, 746).

Philippians 2:6–11

35

the Adam–Christ typology fails when we consider the use of μορφῇ in verse 7; such a reading ‘leads to logical contradictions and destroys the deliberate syntactical and theological contrast between verses 6 and 7’ (Wanamaker 1987, 179–193). As for the word εἰκὼν, which is used for Christ in other Pauline passages (2 Cor. 3:18; 4:4, 6; Col. 1:15), Fee (2007, 184–185, 299) argues that these passages are referring to Jesus’ humanity being in the image of God (he replaces Adam as the true image-bearer of God, cf. Gen. 1:26–27), so that as believers now behold him as the risen One, they are themselves being transformed back into that image. However, Phil. 2:6 cannot be referring to Christ’s humanity as explained previously. In a recent article published in The Journal of Theological Studies, Martin and Nash note that a majority of scholars ‘take ὃς ἐν μορφῇ θϵοῦ ὑπάρχων (2:6) to refer to Christ in his pre-existent and divine origins, whether μορφή, is understood to be the equivalent of οὐσία, δόξα, kabod, condition/status, form of appearance, bodily appearance, Daseinsweisse, etc.’ (see Martin and Nash 2015, 114–115 and the literature cited). They argue for an understanding of ἐν μορφῇ θϵοῦ as ‘form of God’ which, in a Jewish religious context, is an accurate reflection of inward reality of him being θϵός (Martin and Nash 2015, 116–117; citing, for example, Josephus’ statement that God’s μορφή and greatness are hidden [C. Ap. 2.190] and Philo’s statement that Moses saw in the burning bush ‘a most beautiful μορφή, not like any visible object, an image supremely divine in appearance’ [Mos. 1.66]; see also the literature cited in Fee 2007, 377–378, 385). Summarizing the lexical evidence, Fabricatore (2010, 213–214) notes that the overwhelming majority of uses of μορφή in all of Greek literature denoted the idea of the form or shape of someone or something, but even more critical, the uses expressed the fact that μορφή denoted a form or shape that was observable by sight. The majority of uses then fell into the category of visible appearance. A small minority of examples were found that denoted the essence or nature of a person or thing. However, even in several of these uses, the μορφή was referring to the visible appearance that described the underlying nature. This semantic range was stable and remained in place for over 600 years. It should be emphasized that this ‘visible appearance’ view does not imply that Christ merely had a visible appearance of divinity but

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did not have a divine nature. On the contrary, it has been noted that μορφή can refer to appearance that describes the underlying nature. The existence of an underlying truly divine nature is implied by the context of Phil. 2:6 (see below). Another area of debate concerns the meaning of the word ἁρπαγμός. This word occurs only here in Phil. 2:6 in the entire Greek Bible, and it is rarely found in extrabiblical texts (Wright 1992a, 62). Ehrman argues that the word ἁρπαγμός in Phil. 2:6 indicates that Christ did not have equality with God in his pre-existent state. He understands this word to mean ‘grasped after’ and takes it to imply that Christ was grasping for what he did not yet possess. Ehrman writes the word (and words related to it in Greek) is almost always used to refer to something a person doesn’t have but grasps for – like a thief who snatches someone’s purse. The German scholar Vollenweider has shown that the word is used this way widely in a range of Jewish authors; moreover, it is the word used of human rulers who become arrogant and so try to make themselves more high and mighty (divine) than they really are. This seems to be, then what is meant in the Philippians poem. (Ehrman 2014, 263) Ehrman fails to note that other scholars have argued that ἁρπαγμός in the double-accusative construction can be understood idiomatically as ‘taking advantage of’; i.e. Christ did not take advantage of his equality with God (Hoover 1971; Wright 1992a, 62–90). In his landmark article, Hoover argues that in the Hellenistic period ἁρπαγμός and the more widely attested ἅρπαγμα are used synonymously, and that there exists an idiom in which ἁρπαγμός and ἅρπαγμα in the double-accusative construction have the same idiomatic meaning. Hoover observes that a similar idiomatic meaning also belongs to a larger cluster involving near synonyms ἕρμαιον, εὕρημα and εὐτύχημα in the double-accusative construction (Hoover 1971). O’Neill objects to Hoover by pointing to an exception involving ἅρπαγμα from Isidore of Pelusium, Epistola 4.22 (O’Neill 1988, 446). Many scholars have found this objection unpersuasive. As Martin remarks ‘If an idiomatic expression is shown to display a consistent meaning across numerous instances, a single, idiosyncratic and exceptional usage should not be treated as evidence that the idiom does not exist’ (Martin 2016, 181). He goes on to argue that the case involving Isidore is not even an exception. Additionally, he argues that

Philippians 2:6–11

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O’Neill’s objection that there is another exception involving ἅρπαγμα from Eusebius of Caesarea (Hist. eccl. 8.12.2) and two exceptions involving ἁρπαγμός from Eusebius of Caesarea (Commentarius in Lucae Evangelium 6) and Cyril of Alexandria (De adoratione 1.25) fails as well, for the idiomatic meaning fits the context just as well as O’Neil’s reading of ‘robbery’ (Martin 2016). On the other hand, O’Neil admits that ‘robbery’ does not fit the context of Phil. 2:6–11, and his suggestion that the context should be emended to accommodate ‘robbery’ is desperately ad hoc and unnecessary given that the alternative idiomatic reading is well substantiated. Against Hoover’s idiomatic understanding, Vollenweider (1999), who is cited by Ehrman, objects that, outside of Christian literature, the only evidence for idiomatic usage involving ἅρπαγμα is from Heliodorus writing more than 300  years after Philippians 2, and using the idiom for vulgar things such as sex and crime which would have been inappropriate for the exalted divine language of Phil. 2 (Vollenweider 1999, 416). On the other hand, the word-family of ἁρπαγμός is used in the Jewish Scriptures written in or translated into Greek with the connotation of robbery or taking plunder; it also has a negative connotation in the Greek Pseudepigrapha, Philo, Josephus and the New Testament. Substantiating his case with Jewish and Hellenistic traditions concerning the negative connotations of grasping of equality with God by earthly rulers, Vollenweider proposes that ἁρπαγμός should be understood as ‘robbery’ (‘Raub’ in German), which contrasts with the behaviour of Christ in Philippians 2. Vollenweider argues that the pre-existent Christ was ‘in the form of God’, which is a less divine status than ‘being equal with God’; he did not ‘rob’ this higher status, but took the lower status of a man instead. In reply, it should first be noted that Ehrman’s claim that Vollenweider has shown that ἁρπαγμός ‘is the word used of human rulers who become arrogant and so try to make themselves more high and mighty (divine) than they really are’ (Ehrman 2014, 263) is false. While the word-family of ἁρπαγμός is widely used, the word itself is rarely used. Weymouth observes that Vollenweider is able to cite only one instance of ἁρπαγμός or its cognate ἅρπαγμα in connection with a pagan ruler, namely Alexander the Great in Plutarch’s Alexandri 1.8. Even there, it does not refer to ‘make themselves more high and mighty (divine)’ (Ehrman’s phrase), but to ‘overrun Asia like a robber’ (ἅρπαγμα, without using the double-accusative construction that Hoover refers to). The lack of linguistic data is

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a weakness in Vollenweider’s case (Weymouth 2015, 294, 297). Weymouth further argues Of course one of the objections to most interpretations of ἁρπαγμός in Phil 2:6 is the relative lack of linguistic evidence to support any rendering, whether it is Hoover’s or Moule’s or that of anyone else. Because of that, it is necessary to include all available linguistic data, while being sensitive to the (chronological) history of usage of the expression and its cognates in their contexts. But it is anachronistic to argue that later usage of an idiom in a supposedly inappropriate context renders it as inadmissible in a different, earlier context. The question surely is of a basic demonstrable meaning, regardless of the situation in which the idiom is employed; a nuance or connotation of meaning, however, could well be supplied by the idiom’s context. That basic meaning, for the idiomatic expression observed by Hoover, thus, has not been overturned by Vollenweider. (Weymouth 2015, 291) Because of the relative lack of direct linguistic evidence, we have to look widely at indirect linguistic evidences as well as contextual evidences. Martin (2016, 180 n.12) points out that Vollenweider ignored Hoover’s observation concerning the larger idiomatic cluster involving near synonyms in the double-accusative construction, which has early non-Christian attestation and is not limited to base opportunities or ends. Moreover, other Christian literature does use the idiom involving ἅρπαγμα for ‘high’ purposes. With regard to the contrast between the rulers who grasped for equality with God in the Jewish and Hellenistic traditions with Christ, Martin points out that ‘it could be operative whether Christ possessed/exploited or did not possess/grasp at equality with God. The parallels greatly illumine Christ’s humility either way; they do not settle the meaning of ἁρπαγμός’ (Martin 2016, 176–177 n.4). Thus, on the one hand, Vollenweider’s argument has not excluded the possibility that Paul, who wrote earlier than Heliodorus, used a similar idiomatic meaning of ἁρπαγμός in the double-accusative construction. On the other hand, Vollenweider’s and Ehrman’s view that the pre-existent Christ being ‘in the form of God’ is a less divine status than ‘being equal with God’ – which they attempt to justify with a non-idiomatic understanding of ἁρπαγμός  – run into the following problems with regard to the context of Phil. 2:6 and of Paul’s theology:

Philippians 2:6–11 (1)

(2)

(3)

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In addition to Hoover’s argument, Wright adds a number of other considerations for thinking that Paul regarded Christ to have already possessed equality with God, arguing, among other things, that Paul’s τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ (‘to be equal with God’, v.6c) refers back anaphorically to the phrase ἐν μορφῇ θεοῦ (‘being in the form of God’, v.6a) (Wright 1992a, 83). Others have objected that in this case τὸ functions simply to mark the infinitive out as the object (Wallace 1996, 220). In reply, Fee argues that the word order indicates that Paul’s clause is a form of indirect discourse, and that the infinitive phrase τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ (‘to be equal with God’) is the subject of the implied ‘to be’ and ἁρπαγμὸν is the predicate noun. This indicates that Christ already has equality with God, but did not consider ‘equality with God’ to consist of ‘grasping’ or being ‘selfish’ or to be ‘taking advantage of’. Rather, he rejected this view of kingly power by ‘pouring himself out’ for the sake of others (for this and other exegetical points, see Fee 2007, 380–3). While Ehrman (2014, 263) has asked if Christ was equal in ontological status with God the Father why was there a need to exalt him (Phil. 2:9), the answer is evident from the context:  because Christ (even though already truly divine) was said to have humbled himself on the cross. Vollenweider’s and Ehrman’s interpretation of Phil. 2:6 that Christ was less divine than God the Father contradicts 1 Cor. 8:6, which Paul wrote before Philippians. As argued in the previous section, 1 Cor. 8:6 implies the pre-existent inclusion of Christ within the divine being of YHWH even before the creation of all things. Vollenweider’s and Ehrman’s understanding of Phil. 2:6 also does not fit what Paul goes on to say in Phil. 2:9–11, which implies the affirmation of Christ to be within the being of YHWH, and that Christ is a different person from God the Father. To elaborate, in Phil. 2:9–11, which contains an allusion to Isa. 45:23, Paul envisages the acclamation of and reverence before Christ (‘at the name of Jesus every knee will bow … and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord’) which according to Isaiah is to be claimed by YHWH alone.Dunn (1998, 251–254) objects that this passage can also be accounted for by his view that the one God

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Highest Christology Present Among Earliest Christians (of Isa. 45) had chosen to share his sovereignty with the exalted (but non-divine) Christ. In response, Bauckham notes that in Jewish monotheism the unique name of God, YHWH, names his unique identity. It is exclusive to the one God in a way that the sometimes ambiguous word ‘god’ is not. Bauckham observes further that there can be no doubt that ‘the name that is above every name’ (v.9) is YHWH, because it is inconceivable that any Jewish writer could use this phrase for a name other than God’s own unique name. Bauckham also argues that the name itself is not κύριος (‘Lord’, v.11), as κύριος is not the divine name or even a Greek translation of the name, but a conventional Greek reverential substitute for the name (Bauckham 1998, 131–132). It has been objected that ὄνομα (‘name’) can have the force of a ‘title’ (cf. Matt 10:41–42; 1 Pet 4:16), and therefore ‘the name that is above every name’ (Phil. 2:9) is the title ‘Lord’ (Dunn 2010, 107 n.34). However, it is evident that ‘to me’ (‫ )֙יִל‬in Isa 45:23 (‘that to me every knee will bow’) is referring to YHWH, and this was referred by Paul to ‘the name of Jesus’ in Phil. 2:10. Hence, it is better to interpret ‘the name of Jesus’ in Phil. 2:10 as referring to YHWH rather than to the title ‘Lord’ (see also Bauckham 2008a, 199 n.38, 201–203). This is consistent with the observation (noted in the previous section) that in a number of other texts Paul applies Old Testament YHWH passages to Jesus. Moreover, it is evident from the context of Isa 45:23 that the bowing of every knee and the swearing of allegiance of every tongue are actions that convey the recognition of the recipient as Creator and Lord of all creatures. In Phil. 2:10–11, Paul indicates that the recipient of these actions is Christ. Thus ὄνομα does not merely refer to the status of lordship, but also to Christ being involved in the work of creation. The implication is that Paul understood Christ to be truly divine.Now it would be wrong to suppose that the position of Jesus affirmed in Phil. 2:9–11 is ontologically higher than in Phil. 2:6. For if it were the case that a non-truly divine person became truly divine at some point in time, or if it were the case that the existence of a truly divine person had a beginning, this would contradict the deepest logic of Jewish monotheism that Paul evidently

Evidence from Devotional Practices

(4)

2.4

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holds (Yeago 1997, 91–92). Hence, the affirmation that Christ is within the being of YHWH in Phil. 2:9–11 would imply Christ’s eternal existence within this being and thus eternally of the same divine status as YHWH, contrary to Vollenweider’s and Ehrman’s understanding of Phil. 2:6 (for further discussion on Phil. 2:6–11, see Sections 3.4 and 4.3). Even if non-idiomatic understanding of ἁρπαγμός (‘robbery’) is granted and Fee’s argument from word order is rejected, this does not imply that Vollenweider’s and Ehrman’s conclusion that the pre-existent Christ has a less divine status than ‘being equal with God’ is thereby established. (As explained previously, such a conclusion is contrary to the context of Phil. 2:6–11 and to what Paul says elsewhere in 1 Cor. 8:6.) The reason is because, in this case, ‘robbery’ can be understood as implying that the pre-existent Christ has a less functional status (rather than a less divine status) than God the Father. (‘Being equal with God’ [τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ] can be understood functionally rather than ontologically.) As argued in Chapter  4, Paul regarded Christ to be ontologically equal but functionally subordinated to God the Father. Thus Phil. 2:6–7 can be understood as implying that, even though Christ was ontologically equal with God the Father, he did not seek to ‘rob’ the status of being functionally equal with God the Father, but humbly submit to him. Evidence from Devotional Practices

Another evidence which has been cited by the scholars of the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule for the conclusion that highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians is the practice of worshipping Jesus. As the word ‘worship’ can mean different forms of reverence, Hurtado (2003, 31 n.10) argues that ‘worship’ should be understood as ‘the sort of reverence that was reserved by ancient devout Jews for God alone and was intended by them to indicate God’s uniqueness’. He uses ‘worship’ to designate ‘ “cultic” worship, especially devotion offered in a specifically worship (liturgical) setting and expressive of the thanksgiving, praise, communion and petition that directly represent, manifest, and reinforce the relationship of the worshipers with the deity’.

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Hurtado (2003, 138–153) points to six specific practices that constitute this kind of cultic worship offered to Jesus in first-century Christian groups: (1) (2)

Prayers (e.g. 1 Thess. 3:11–13; 2 Thess. 2:16–17; 3:5) and benedictions (e.g. Rom. 16:20; 1 Cor. 16:23). Invocation and confession of Jesus as Lord:  Hurtado (2003, 110–111) observes the use of the Aramaic expression maranatha (‘Our Lord, come’) in 1 Cor. 16:22 as an invocation of Jesus as ‘Lord’ in Pauline Christianity and argues that this is an alignment to the reverential use of maryah for Jesus earlier in Aramaic-speaking circles of Jewish Christians in Palestine. The significance of maranatha has been challenged on the grounds that the term ‘lord’ has been used of angels and that invocation to heavenly beings are also found in Jewish texts (Dunn 2010, 35–37; Casey 1999, 217–218, 223–225). Nevertheless, Chris Tilling argues that maranatha should be regarded as part of the relational data between believers and Jesus which corresponds, as a pattern, only to the language concerning believers and YHWH in Second Temple Judaism. He points out that ‘love’ and ‘curse’ are mentioned in the context, and he refers to other relevant Pauline passages (e.g. 1 Thess. 4:17–18; 5:10–11) which indicate that it is not merely that Paul loves heaven but that he loves Jesus (Tilling 2012, ch.8). Additionally, considering the invocation maranatha at the end of 1 Corinthians together with the phrase ‘all those who call upon (ἐπικαλέω) the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (1 Cor. 1:2) at the beginning of the epistle (‘inclusio’), it can be inferred that the invocation offered to Christ implies that Christ is regarded as truly divine. As Capes observes, ἐπικαλέω is used commonly in Greek texts to refer to the invocation of a god, and in the LXX it occurs with similar meaning as petitioners call upon YHWH (e.g. Gen. 4:26; 13:4; 21:33; 26:26; Ps. 78:6; 79:18; 104:1; 118:4; Isa. 64:6; Jer. 10:25; Zeph. 3:9; Zech. 13:9; Joel 2:32). In the Hebrew tradition, this religious act which characterized and even determined God’s people is restricted to calling upon Jesus in the New Testament (Rom. 10:12–13; 1 Cor. 1:2; Acts 2:21; 9:14, 21; 22:16; 2 Tim. 2:22) (Capes 2008, 150). Hurtado (2003, 140–143) likewise concludes that by the phrase ‘call upon’ Paul refers to Christians everywhere

Evidence from Devotional Practices

(3) (4)

(5)

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and indicates the cultic reverence of Jesus as the recipient of worship as the universal description of Christian believers. Dunn (2010, 28) concedes that references to ‘calling upon’ Jesus reflect phenomena ‘very striking’ and ‘entirely unusual and without precedent in the Judaism of the time’. Baptism in Jesus’ Name:  (1 Cor. 6:11) (Hurtado 2003, 140–143; see further, Chapters 3 and 7 of this book). The ‘Lord’s Supper’:  Hurtado (2003, 48, 145–146) notes that this is a ‘cultic’ occasion that formed a key part of the devotional life of early Christians. He observes that the worship of idols and meals of the pagan gods (1 Cor. 10:14–22) directly pose as exclusive alternatives to the Lord’s Supper. Paul also warns here about ‘provoking the Lord to jealousy’ (v.22), a biblical phrasing that originally referred to God, appropriated here to refer to Jesus as the Lord whose divine power is to be taken seriously (cf. 1 Cor. 11:29–32, where Paul warns about the serious consequences of being judged by ‘the Lord’ (Jesus) for inappropriate behaviour at the Christian sacred meal). In short, the Lord’s Supper is perceived as the Christian cult meal where the Lord Jesus plays a role that is explicitly ‘likened to that of the deities of the pagan cults and, even more astonishingly, to the role of God … Jesus is perceived as the living and powerful Kyrios who owns the meal and presides at it, and with whom believers have fellowship as with a god’. Hurtado notes that Paul’s recitation of early tradition in 1 Cor. 11:23–26 indicates that the cultic significance of Jesus in the meal was not a Pauline innovation, but originated from earlier Christian circles. Hymns:  Hurtado argues that Phil. 2:6–11 is a hymn that reflects the sort of regular, corporate devotion that characterized the religious practice of Christian circles within the first decades of the Christian movement (Hurtado 2003, 40). What this means is that there was actual cultic practice of referring the acknowledgement of YHWH to Jesus. This point remains valid even if we agree with Dunn (2010, 41) that this hymn was not sung to Christ but it was about Christ and sung to God the Father, and that the exaltation of Christ is directed to the glory of the Father. (See further the explanation concerning functional subordination and 1 Cor. 15:24–28 in Chapter 4.)

44

(6)

Highest Christology Present Among Earliest Christians Since Ernst Lohmeyer’s influential Kyrios Jesus (Lohmeyer 1928), many scholars have been convinced that Phil. 2:6–11 is a poetic hymn. This consensus has been challenged in recent years (e.g. based on the lack of metrical structure), and alternative classifications such as exalted prose, encomion, epainos, early Christian confession, didactic poem and prose hymn have been suggested (see the literature cited in Martin and Nash 2015, 90–91). The matter continues to be debated in contemporary scholarship. Some have argued that there is a lack of evidence that early Christian readers of this passage refer to it as a hymn (Edsall and Strawbridge 2015). Others contend that the contents of Phil. 2:6–11 exhibits features that ancient rhetoricians would identify as belonging to a hymn (Martin and Nash 2015). In any case, even if Phil. 2:6–11 is not a hymn, it still presupposes that the readers of Philippians would acknowledge the highest Christology present in the text (see Sections 2.3, 3.4 and 4.3). Prophecy:  Hurtado (2003, 150)  observes that in 1 Cor. 12:4–11 Paul gives a sampling of charismatic phenomena in which prophetic speech is mentioned and attributed to ‘the same Lord’ (v.5), which is extraordinary given the negative stance of biblical tradition against prophecy in the name of any other deity (e.g. Deut. 13:1–5), and the lack of parallels of prophetic oracles delivered in first-century Jewish group worship in the name of any figure other than God.

Hurtado argues that the constellation of the above-mentioned devotional phenomena described above were all connected with, and were constituent actions of, the corporate liturgical gatherings of early Christian groups. Together with the observation that, in the first-century religious context, they have their closest analogies in the kinds of devotion given to divinities in the Roman religious environment, to the God of Israel in Jewish circles and to the various deities reverenced in non-Jewish groups, this demonstrates that they are properly understood as constituting the cultic worship of Jesus (Hurtado 2003, 137–138; even if the singing of hymns to Christ is debatable, as noted above, the analogies of the other phenomena listed by Hurtado remains impressive).

Evidence from Spiritual Desire for Christ 2.5

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Evidence from Expressions of Spiritual Desire for Christ

The conclusion that highest Christology can be found among the earliest Christians can be strengthened further by considering other elements of the relational data in Paul’s epistles concerning believers and Jesus. In his excellent monograph, Chris Tilling shows that this data corresponds, as a pattern, only to the language concerning believers and YHWH in Second Temple Judaism. He helpfully points out, for example, that in the Judeo-Christian understanding ‘Worship is bigger than church service, it involves the whole of life’ (noting texts such as Deut. 6:4–9) and notes Paul’s Christ-shaped goals and motivations in this regard:  For Paul, the purpose of the body is for the Lord (1 Cor. 6:13), one should live in undistracted and total devotion to the Lord Jesus in both body and spirit (1 Cor. 7:34–35), and make it their aim to please him (2 Cor. 5:9). On Paul’s ‘living is Christ, and dying is gain’ (Phil. 1:21), he observes that commentators have noted that for Paul living has ‘no meaning apart from Christ; he is the object, motive, inspiration and goal of all that the apostle does’ and that ‘Life means Christ … Life is summed up in Christ. Life is filled up with, occupied with Christ, in the sense that everything Paul does – trusts, loves, hopes, obeys, preaches … and so on – is inspired by Christ and is done for Christ. Christ and Christ alone gives inspiration, direction, meaning and purpose to existence’ (Tilling 2012, 60, 106–117; citing Peter O’Brien and Gerald Hawthorne). Another of these elements in the relational data is Paul’s desire for fellowship with Jesus, a desire which he exhorts other early Christians to have.7 From his epistles, it can be seen that Paul desires Christ above all other things. He counts all things to be loss in view of knowing Christ (Phil. 3:8), and for him ‘knowing Christ’ does not mean merely head knowledge about Christ but knowing Christ personally and relationally (Phil. 3:10) (Fee 1995, 317–319). Although Paul also expresses other kinds of desires, such as the desire to be with other believers (e.g. 1 Thess. 2:17; 3:10), there is no doubt that his greatest desire is Christ. Paul expresses a desire to depart and be with Christ, which for him is very much better than to live on in the flesh (Phil. 1:22–23). He looks forward to meeting the Lord Jesus in the air and 7 See Tilling (2012) and Fee (2007, 412–413, 488–490), who argues along similar lines.

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to always being with him (1 Thess. 4:17). Hence, it is evident that for Paul, Christ is his ultimate desire. Schrage has objected to the view that Paul held the highest Christology by arguing that Paul’s Christ is merely mediator and not the ‘goal’, which only God the Father is (Schrage 2002, 170–171). In reply, it will be explained further in subsequent chapters that the distinction between Christ as mediator and God the Father as ‘goal’ (in the sense expressed, for example, in 1 Cor. 15:24–28) can be understood in terms of the different functional roles which they have, and which does not imply ontological subordination. It remains significant that in the passages cited above Paul is expressing the sentiment which a devout Jew would reserve for YHWH alone. To quote some examples from the Old Testament, in Ps. 63:1 the psalmist prays ‘O God, you are my God; I shall seek you earnestly; my soul thirsts for you, my flesh yearns for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.’ Here the psalmist expresses an overpowering longing for God with the strong metaphorical language of thirst in the land of dryness (cf. Ps. 42:2–3) (Tate 1990, 127). In another psalm (73:25), the psalmist confesses to God ‘Whom have I in heaven but you? And besides you, I desire nothing on earth.’ With this confession that the psalmist desires nothing on earth beside YHWH, all expectations of worldly prosperity (Ps. 73:3f.) are rejected (Kraus 1989, 91). Other texts in the Psalms (e.g. 16:11; 21:6; 27:4; 42:2; 51:11; 84:10; 95:2; 100:2; 105:4) likewise speak of such desire and hope for the presence of YHWH (Tilling 2012, 112–113). Passages such as those cited above cannot be explained away as being merely statements of confessions which express the psalmists’ personal attitudes. The reason is because their contexts indicate that these attitudes are intended to be exemplary, and they include regarding God alone as their ultimate desire. Tilling (2012, 66) likewise observes that a number of Old Testament scholars such as Vriezen (1970) and Brueggemann (2005) have emphasized the relational dimension of Jewish faith in God. Now it is clear that Paul is evidently a thoroughgoing Jewish monotheist whose devotional life is shaped by the Psalms (Fee 2007, 412, 490). Hence, it can be inferred that Paul would affirm that God alone is his ultimate desire (Ps. 73:25). Yet it is significant that nothing like what the psalmists say concerning their desire for God is expressed in the Pauline epistles with regard to God the Father, but only with regard to Christ (Fee 2007, 412, 490). As noted above, for Paul, heaven is wholly Christ-centred; heaven is so desirable because Jesus is there (Fee 2007, 408). Additionally, in Phil. 3:8 Paul has taken up

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the Old Testament theme of knowing God relationally (Exod. 10:2; Jer. 31:34; Hos. 4:1; 6:6) and applied it to Christ (Fee 1995, 317–319). It is evident, therefore, that the desire for God which the psalmists express is directed by Paul to Christ in these passages. It is this fellowship with Christ, which Paul had been called into (1 Cor. 1:9), that ultimately satisfies him. Likewise, Tilling observes that the image of the marriage of believers to Christ as their husband, together with the warning against being led astray from a sincere and pure devotion to Christ (2 Cor. 11:2–3), expresses the deepest kind of love relationship and utilizes metaphors which regularly describe the relation of YHWH to his people Israel in the Jewish Scriptures (Isa. 54:5–6; 62:5; Hosea 2:16; etc.) (Tilling 2012, 124). 2.6

Conclusion

In this chapter, I  have explained three lines of arguments for the conclusion that highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians. (1)

(2) (3)

1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11 indicate that Christ was regarded as a personal, pre-existent and truly divine being, who was already within the being of YHWH prior to the creation of all things and was a different person from God the Father, while at the same time was truly human as well. Such pre-existence does not have to be understood as saying that Christ belonged to the static world of Being as conceived by Plato and his philosophical heirs (cf. Peppard 2011, 11–14). On the contrary, the pre-existent Christ was said to have been involved in a dynamic process when he ‘emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness’ (Phil. 2:7). Certain devotional practices offered to Jesus in corporate liturgical gatherings indicate the worship of Jesus. A number of earliest Christian writings reflect a spiritual desire for Christ which was reserved for YHWH alone.

Based on these three lines of argument, which mutually reinforce one another, the case for the presence of highest Christology among the earliest Christians is compelling. However, a number of scholars have refused to accept the conclusion of the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule. It is to their objections that we now turn.

3 REPLIES TO OBJECTIONS INVOLVING VARIOUS EXALTED FIGURES IN SECOND TEMPLE JUDAISM

3.1

Introduction

In this chapter and the next, I shall assess the objections which have been raised by critics of the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule against the conclusion of Chapter 2. The objections can be classified under the following categories: (1)

(2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

The earliest Christians’ acknowledgement of Jesus’ divinity does not imply that Jesus was regarded to be of the same divine status as YHWH, because kings and other exalted figures (Moses, Enoch, etc.) were also acknowledged to be divine by Second Temple Jews but these figures were regarded to be of a lower divine status than YHWH. According to Acts the earliest Christians did not worship Jesus. Jesus was distinguished from and subordinated to God. Adoptionism/Exaltation Christology was present earlier. Jesus was regarded as functionally divine but not ontologically divine. Jesus was merely venerated, not worshipped. Sacrifice is never said in the New Testament to be offered to Christ but to God, therefore Christ was not regarded by the earliest Christians to be of the same divine status as YHWH.

I shall now assess these objections in the order listed above, focusing on the first one in this chapter. In order to understand the origination of the idea that Jesus was divine, it is important to examine the religious context of the earliest Christians. Certain scholars such as Ehrman have cited the deification of humans such as Romulus, Julius Caesar, Caesar Augustus and Apollonius in the Greco-Roman world, and argued that this provided an important conceptual framework and/or parallel for 48

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the origination of Jesus’ divinity (Ehrman 2014, ch.1). Arguing from parallels between early Christianity and surrounding ‘Gentile’ religions was a prominent feature of the works of scholars of the Old Religionsgeschichtliche Schule of the early twentieth century. Peppard observes their extravagant use of parallels with new discoveries of manuscripts of Hellenistic religious texts and philological research on Greek, Egyptian, Iranian and other ‘Hellenistic’ religions, noting that ‘certain terms, concepts, and narratives of Hellenistic religions were isolated and magnified according to their perceived resemblances to the New Testament’, and perceived resemblances were ‘framed as decisive influences on the development of early Christianity’ (Peppard 2011, 15 and n.34). Against such an approach, it has often been objected that one should be wary of parallelomania, defined as ‘that extravagance among scholars which first overdoes the supposed similarity in passages and then proceeds to describe source and derivation as if implying literary connection flowing in an inevitable or predetermined direction’ (Sandmel 1962, 1). Sandmel warns, for example, that ‘Paul’s context is of infinitely more significance than the question of the alleged parallels. Indeed, to make Paul’s context conform to the content of the alleged parallels is to distort Paul’ (Sandmel 1962, 5). Many scholars (e.g. Hurtado and Bauckham) would then go on and argue that earliest Christology was not born in a Greco-Roman context, but in a Jewish one which (they contend) was monotheistic. The Jewishness of early Christianity and of Jesus himself has received plenty of scholarly attention since the latter half of the twentieth century, and this attention characterized much of the Third Quest for the Historical Jesus. The revival of interest in this Jewishness was in part influenced by the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other religious texts, which has provided scholars much more information concerning the first-century Jewish world as a background for the development of early Christology (see Longenecker 1970; Charlesworth 1992; 1996; Vermès 1993; 2003; Evans 1995; Levine 2006). While emphasizing the importance of ‘Ancient Jewish Monotheism’, Hurtado qualifies that he is not asserting that in the entire period of the ancient world no Jew ever wandered into the sort of religious practices forbidden in apocalyptic and rabbinic prohibitions. Indeed, there are indications of syncretistic experiments involving Jews here and there in the Roman periods. However, these seem to have been ad hoc and localized, and only a handful of examples of Jews were known to have abandoned

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their Judaist worship of one God. Hurtado allows for the possibility that the data currently available may not be complete. He argues that, nevertheless, until a clear indication of the widespread existence of such practices is furnished, the claim that postexilic Jewish monotheism was seriously compromised on a wide scale by the worship of angels, either in a Palestinian or in a Diaspora setting, is not well founded (Hurtado 1988, 35; 2003, 30–42). A number of other scholars have objected that, contrary to the assumption that the Jewish world was monotheistic, first-century Judaism was more polyform (Hayman 1991; Barker 1992; Boyarin 2010), and they have argued that ‘worship’ does not imply ‘recognition of divinity in the strict sense’ in this context. Fredriksen complains that the modern definition of monotheism, i.e. ‘belief in a single god who is the only god’ is not what ancient monotheism is. Rather, ‘normal ancient monotheism’ is what we now understand by the term ‘henotheism’:  ‘one god on top’, with other gods beneath. She argues that biblical texts such as Exod. 22:28, 2 Cor. 4:4 (‘the god of this world’) and Gal. 4:8–9 (‘beings that by nature are not gods’ NRSV) indicate that the biblical authors believe in the existence of other gods, but do not worship them, and that a typical ancient Jew spent part of his work day showing courtesy towards gods not his. She thinks that some Christian Jews could be monotheists and yet imputed divinity to Jesus because of their conception of the hierarchical arrangement of heaven:  The Logos is subordinate to God just as ‘son’ is to ‘father’. She writes, ‘As long as one god reigned supreme at the peak of the ontological pyramid, the base could be as broad as needed’ (Fredriksen 2008, 35–38). Similarly, Horbury argues that, concerning Judaism in the Herodian age, the interpretation of ‘inclusive’ monotheism (whereby the supreme deity was envisaged above but in association with other spirits and powers) fits the data better than an ‘exclusive’ monotheism (whereby the existence of other divine beings is denied) (Horbury 2004, 16–44). Horbury proposes that the worship of Jesus as divine is an adaptation of the veneration of royal and messianic figures and martyrs in ancient Jewish tradition. He cites evidence for a tradition of ‘cult’ given to such figures and argues that this was a ‘cultic’ precedent of the devotion to Jesus (Horbury 1998). In relation to the apparent worship of Jesus in Phil. 2:9–11 discussed in Chapter 2, DeConick (2008, 8) argues that Jewish speculation about the exaltation of servants of God and their investiture with the Tetragrammaton YHWH was not uncommon, citing as

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examples Jacob (in Prayer of Joseph quoted by Origen, Comm. Joh. 2.31) and Enoch (1 En. 37–71; 2 En. 22:5–10; 24:1–3; 3 En. 10–12). The accounts in the Books of Enoch have received much scholarly attention, and it has been argued that the picture of the Enoch Son of Man is so highly exalted that the apocalyptic groups which penned it could have engaged in speculations that he is not merely a servant of God but was divine. As Segal remarks concerning the Son of Man who was identified as Enoch in 1 Enoch 70–71, we cannot altogether dismiss the possibility that some apocalyptic groups posited an independent power as early as the first century or that other groups, among them the predecessors of the rabbis, would have called them heretics … It seems clear that the figure has been human and becomes both divine and messianic. (Segal 1977, 201–203) The account in 1 Enoch 48:2–6 is particularly significant: And at that hour, that Son of Man was named in the presence of the Lord of Spirits, and his name, before the Ancient of Days. Even before the sun and the moon were created, before the stars of the heavens were made, his name was named before the Lord of Spirits. He will be a staff for the righteous and the holy, that they may lean on him and not fall. And he will be the light of the nations, and the hope for those who grieve in their hearts. All who dwell on the earth will fall down and worship before him, and they will glorify and bless and sing hymns to him, to the Name of the Lord of Spirits. And for this reason he was chosen and hidden in his presence, before the world was created and forever in his presence. Ehrman thinks that passages like the above indicate that the Enoch Son of Man was a divine being who has always existed and was worshipped (Ehrman 2014, 67). DeConick also argues that in the Samaritan tradition there is an enormous amount of evidence that Moses is so exalted and glorified that he was vested with God’s name. Dunn (2010, 66, 69–71, 86) argues that the great angel in the Apocalypse of Abraham (first or second century) was said to have ‘knelt down with me [the apocalyptist] and worshipped’ (Apoc. Ab. 17:2) and yet he is said to bear the divine name Yahoel (10.3).

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Critics of Hurtado and Bauckham have also argued that in Jewish tradition one can find the worship of the high priest such as Melchizedek who is regarded as god in 11QMelch 2:10 (Barker 1999), the worship of Adam (Life of Adam and Eve 13:3–14:3) (Fletcher-Louis 1999), as well as the worship of messianic kings (Horbury 1998; 2004). With relevance to Phil. 2:9–11, Horbury argues that it is likely that Kyrios is a royal title applied to the Messiah, stating that the application of kyrios and its Aramaic equivalent mara to earthly rulers, including Herodian kings, is well attested in usage contemporary with the New Testament, as noted above; and this usage has biblical antecedents, notably in the application of adon (Greek kyrios) to the king in Ps. 110:1 and the historical books. (Horbury 1998, 144) Ehrman himself argues that there was evidence of henotheism. Noting the debates concerning whether Jesus was portrayed as divine in the Synoptic Gospels, Ehrman argues that most ancient people – including Jews – regarded the human and divine as two continuums that overlap (Ehrman 2014, 4). Ehrman cites the following examples G

G G

G

G

G G

the Angel of the LORD in the Old Testament who is described as divine and human; the mention of gods in Ps. 82; the examples of Jacob in Prayer of Joseph and the great angel in Apocalypse of Abraham, noted above; humans who become angels (Ehrman cites 2 Baruch 51:3–10 and the examples of Enoch in 2 Enoch 22:1–10 and Moses in Sirach 45:1–5 and in a book attributed to Ezekiel the Tragedian); the sons of God and their offspring mentioned in Genesis 6 (Ehrman thinks that the sons of God are angels); the Son of Man in Daniel 7 and in 1 Enoch; and divine hypostases (attributes of God taking on existence apart from God) such as Wisdom in Proverbs 8 (Ehrman notes that this can be read metaphorically, but argues that some Jews read it more literally, as seen, for example, in the apocryphal Wisdom of Solomon) and the Logos in Philo’s writings (Ehrman 2014, ch.2).

Ehrman also thinks there are examples of humans who became divine in Jewish Scriptures, citing David’s son (2 Sam. 7:12–14) and

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the king of Israel being adopted as God’s son (Ps. 2:7), and noting that Israel is called the Son of God as well (Hos. 11:1) (Ehrman 2014, ch.2). Collins and Collins (2008), whom Ehrman cites, had argued previously that the Jews regarded the kings of Israel as divine and that the Messiah was also regarded similarly, thus providing an important theological background for Jesus’ followers to regard him as divine when they acknowledged him as the Messiah. Ehrman thinks that, although certain figures are not regarded as equal with God almighty, they are regarded as God nonetheless, and he cites as examples Ps. 110:1  ‘The LORD (YHWH) says to my Lord (adonai) …’, Ps. 45:6–7 and Isa. 9:6–7 (Ehrman mentions that most scholars think this is referring to a king at the time of Isaiah’s prophecy, King Hezekiah). He also observes that Moses is functioning as God in Exodus 4:16, and notes that some later Jews take this view further and affirm that Moses was in fact divine, citing as example Philo’s view (Sacrifices of Abel and Cain, 9–10) that throughout his life Moses was gradually becoming divine (Ehrman 2014, ch.2). In summary, Ehrman claims that the fact that Jesus was regarded as divine by the earliest Christians does not imply that Jesus was regarded to be of the same divine status as YHWH, because the kings, messianic figures and others (Moses etc.) were also regarded as divine by the Jews but they were evidently regarded to be of a lower divine status than YHWH. Citing Gal. 4:14, Ehrman thinks that Paul regards Jesus as an angel (Ehrman 2014, ch.7). 3.2

The Importance of the Creator–Creature Divide

It is true that in Jewish and early Christian writings, the term ‘god’ does not by itself distinguish the one true God YHWH; the term ‘god’ (as well as ‘son of God’; see below) can refer to human figures and angels (Thompson 2001, 17–56). One must be careful, therefore, not to assume that the mere use of the term ‘god’ or ‘son of God’ for a person implies that the person has the same divine status as YHWH. In what follows, I shall argue that it is more important to pay attention to the attributes of the person in question – in particular, whether the person is a creature or involved in the creation of all things – rather than the mere use of the term ‘god’ or ‘son of God’ for the person. In response to Fredriksen and Horbury, Bauckham points out that traditional monotheism in the Jewish, Christian and Islamic

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traditions has always accepted the existence of vast numbers of supernatural beings such as angels and demons. Crucially, however, such beings are considered creatures, created by and subject to God. He argues that we can still speak of ‘exclusive’ monotheism, by understanding it as the uniqueness of the one God in terms of an absolute difference in kind from all other reality, the difference being that the one God is the uncreated Creator of all other creatures (heavenly or otherwise) and that He is sovereign over all creatures (Bauckham 2008b, 40–41).1 By contrast, inclusive monotheism is a gradient view of reality that does not draw sharp ontological distinctions between the supreme God and other gods or between gods and humans. It views the one supreme God as being unique only in the sense of the superlative: He is the most powerful of the gods, the wisest, resides highest in the cosmos, etc. Bauckham argues that early Judaism holds to an exclusive monotheism as he defines it, claiming that early Jewish literature (with few, if any, exceptions) is strongly committed to such a view. He points out that in Jewish literature the acceptance that the gods of the nations exist does not entail that they exist in any way comparable with YHWH the Most High God, who created and rules over them. He notes that Deuteronomy in fact calls the gods of the nations ‘non-gods’ (Deut. 32:17, 21): They are not fit to be called ‘gods’, any more than human rulers are. While the divine title ‘the Most High’ suggests the divine council in which the one God presides over other gods, the word ‘the Most High’ itself by no means necessarily conveys the meaning ‘highest of the same kind (of gods)’, but merely situates God ‘on high’ i.e. as sovereign. He observes that in Ps. 82:8, the most ‘polytheistic’ of passages in the Hebrew Bible, the idea of a real kinship of nature between ‘the Most High’ and his ‘sons’, the gods, is already contradicted by the former’s judgement that the latter ‘will die like humans’ (Ps. 82:7). This reflects the strong impulse to draw an absolute distinction of kind between YHWH and all other reality (Bauckham 2008b, 39–48). Bauckham claims that Judaism observes this binary distinction between God and all other reality by the acknowledgement of his transcendent uniqueness as the Creator 1 Concerning sovereignty, it should be noted that it is sovereignty over creatures that Bauckham highlights. Christ’s subordination to God the Father does not imply that he is not divine, because Christ is not a created being, but the uncreated Creator through whom all things came into existence (1 Cor. 8:6; cf. Isa. 44:24; see Chapter 2). Furthermore, New Testament passages such as Phil. 2:6–11 clearly portray Christ as sovereign over creatures.

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of all things and the One who is sovereign over all things (Bauckham 2008b, 41–43; cf. Barker 1992; 1999). With regard to those texts concerning Wisdom cited by Ehrman and others, both Hurtado (1988, 37, 41, 49) and Bauckham (1999, 17) note a separate category of intermediaries different from angels and exalted figures mentioned above. This consists of personifications of aspects of God’s own powers and activities, not actual quasi-divine figures which are separate from God. Examples of these are Spirit, Word and Wisdom.2 Texts that say that both the Word and the Wisdom of God take part in the work of creation make it quite clear that they are not infringing the standard monotheistic insistence that God created without assistance of any kind (Bauckham 1999, 21, citing Isa. 44:24). Bauckham observes that 2 Enoch 33:4, in an echo of Isa. 40:13, says that God had no advisor in his work of creation, but that his Wisdom was his advisor. This implies that his Wisdom is not someone else but intrinsic to his own identity (Bauckham 1999, 21). With reference to Prov. 8:22 (‘The Lord brought me forth as the first of His works’), Old Testament scholar Bruce Waltke points out that the phrase ‘brought me forth’, used as a description of personalized Wisdom, is probably metaphorical. It signifies that Solomon’s inspired wisdom comes from God’s essential being; it is a revelation that has an organic connection with God’s very being, unlike the rest of creation that came into existence outside of him and independent from his being. The phrase ‘as the first’ probably means ‘first in time, not in importance or quality of the best of a series, nor in principle, nor in virility’ (Waltke 2004, 408–410).3 To say that God created the world by Wisdom is to say that God created the world wisely (Dunn 2010, 77). McDonough likewise argues that the Wisdom in Proverbs 8 is ‘nothing more than a literary personification of the fact that God’s wisdom is evident in the creation’, noting the clear personification of the parallel figure, Lady Folly, in Proverbs 9: 13–18 (McDonough 2009, 79). Moreover, Hurtado argues that it is in the outward and tangible sphere of worship practices that we have crucial indications of 2 See also Davila (1999); Lee (2005, ch.2) explains personification of divine attributes as a literary device and notes examples such as Ps. 85:10–11. 3 Waltke (2004, 127–130) notes that, beginning at least as early as Justin Martyr (AD 125), the church fathers almost without exception identified Wisdom in Prov. 8 with Jesus Christ, and this embroiled the church in subsequent controversies about the precise nature of the relationship between God and Christ. Waltke argues that a grammatico-historical exegesis of Prov. 8 does not support patristic exegesis.

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monotheistic commitment. Hurtado observes that it is possible to misinterpret the honorific descriptions of principal angels and other exalted figures in ancient Jewish texts, particularly if these are treated out of the context of the religious practice of those who wrote the texts. For example, it is possible to mistake Philo’s reference to the Logos as ‘the second god’ as evidence of a ditheistic outlook, unless we take into account the larger context of these statements and Philo’s emphatic affirmation (e.g. Decal. 65)  that worship is to be restricted to the one God of Israel alone. It is therefore significant that there was no worship of Divine Wisdom etc., as separate entities (Hurtado 1988, 38; 2003, 36). Bauckham has highlighted an important conceptual distinction between Creator and creature, emphasizing the Creator–creature divide which Fredriksen and Horbury seem to have missed. More recently, Peppard has attempted to defend Horbury’s view by arguing against too sharp a line drawn between humanity and divinity. He wrote Most people, whether Jews or Gentiles, did not have a Platonic conception of God’s absolute transcendence; moreover, the intermediary beings common in the Greco-Roman world were too a part of Judaism, including spirits, angels, and demons – but also rulers, whether Jewish and Hellenistic kings or Roman emperors. (Peppard 2011, 23) In reply, the existence of intermediaries such as spirits, angels and demons does not take away from the fact (which is further explained below) that Pauline passages which condemn those who ‘worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator’ (Rom. 1:25) indicate that a sharp divide between Creator and creature is important in earliest Christianity where worship is concerned. The concept of God implied by passages such as Rom. 1:25 is not equivalent to ‘a Platonic conception of God’s absolute transcendence’ (to use Peppard’s phrase), but it is drawing a sharp distinction between Creator and creature nonetheless. In the context of the present debate, the word ‘God’ is less useful than the word ‘Creator’, which helps to bring into focus the point that Bauckham, Hurtado, etc., are trying to make, namely that Jesus was regarded in earliest Christianity as belonging to the Creator side of the divide, as explained in Chapter 2. This conceptual distinction between Creator and creature will be utilized in the subsequent analysis of the debate at hand.

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Concerning the exclusive worship of the one God of Israel, some scholars such as Chester (2007, 20–27) have criticized Bauckham and Hurtado by citing the Son of Man in 1 Enoch and Philo’s writings as counter-evidence. Likewise, Peppard states that ancient Jews cannot uniformly be categorized as monotheistic (Peppard 2011, 35), citing Fredriksen (2003) who claims that Since ancient cities were religious institutions, participation in civic life was itself a form of worship. The workings of government and law, the process of education, the public experience of art and culture in various theatrical, musical, and athletic competitions  – all these activities, which we think of as secular and thus religiously neutral, were in fact embedded in the traditional worship of the gods. The gods looked after the city, and the city’s residents, to ensure its well-being, looked after the gods. Processions, hymns, libations, blood offerings, communal dancing, and drinking and eating  – all these public forms of worship expressed and created bonds that bound citizens together and, by establishing or maintaining the necessary relations with powerful numinous patrons (both imperial and celestial), contributed to the common weal. Jewish names inscribed as ephebes or members of town councils, Jewish officers in Gentile armies, Jewish Hellenistic literati, Jewish contestants in, patrons of, or observers at athletic, dramatic or musical events (such as Philo and, probably, Paul)  – all these give the measure of Jewish participation in pagan worship. (Fredriksen 2003, 44) Nevertheless, it can be replied that the premise that Jesus was regarded as truly divine in earliest Christianity is based on what the earliest Christian Jewish leaders thought about worship and divinity, not on what each and every other Jew may have thought. Even if there were a few other Jews in Second Temple Judaism (such as the examples Chester and others mentioned) who may not have held to a strict view according to which worship implied recognition of divinity in the sense of being on the Creator side of the divide, the earliest Christian leaders evidently did (see below). Within Second Temple Judaism itself there are indications that such a strict view was held by many Jews as well. Fredriksen herself notes that ‘Jews notoriously avoided overt public cult, though essayed to compensate variously through dedications, patronage and prayer’ (Fredriksen 2003, 44), and she observes that Judaism requires the exclusive commitment

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to the God of Israel and ‘the principled renunciation of all other cult’ (Fredriksen 2003, 44, citing Tacitus’ observation that Roman converts to the Jewish religion had to disown their own gods [Hist. 5.1–2]). Thus, even if there were some measure of compromise as the Jews negotiated their survival in ancient cities, the Jews generally held (or at least knew that their religion required them to hold) to the view that God the Creator deserved their ultimate and exclusive commitment. Concerning this exclusivity, Hurtado argues that the most obvious indicator was the Jerusalem temple in which (unlike many pagan temples) images of other deities (such as that of the emperor) were strongly rejected (Hurtado 2013a). The understanding that cultic exclusivity to YHWH is a corollary of the Jewish affirmation of YHWH as Creator is affirmed by Paul in Rom. 1:25 and is evident in Old Testament as well, for example, in the following passage in the Psalms: For great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised; he is to be revered above all gods. For all the gods of the peoples are idols, but the Lord made the heavens. (Ps. 96:4–5 NRSV) Here the psalmist draws the tight connection between revering YHWH ‘above all gods’ and the condemnation of these gods as idols with the affirmation that YHWH is the Creator of the heavens. Although there were other ancient Near Eastern people who believed that there was one Creator (e.g. El) but did not draw the conclusion that only the Creator is to be worshipped, the Jewish biblical authors clearly drew that conclusion. In contrast with Fredriksen who mentions Paul in relation to the measure of Jewish participation in pagan worship (Fredriksen 2003, 44, cited above), Paul himself was clear to condemn those who worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator (Rom. 1:25). Although there might have been some Jews who were influenced by pagan polytheistic ideas, there were evidently other Jews who rejected these pagan religious influences outright and condemned the apparent compromises to God’s unique identity. For example, in 3 Enoch 16 God himself was said to have rebuked Elisha ben Abuya who had a vision of Metatron and claimed that there were ‘two powers in heaven’, while Rabbi Akiba (died ca. AD 135)  was rebuked for blasphemy when he suggested that there was one throne for God and one for David (b. Haggigah 14a; b. Sanhedrin 38b; Bird 2014b, 66). Likewise, the portrayals of the charge of blasphemy in Mark 2:5–6 and 14:61–64 can be understood as reflecting the perceived concerns

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of Jewish religious leaders with regard to the uniqueness of God’s identity. Regardless of whether such condemnations were justified or not, it can be seen that many Jews were evidently concerned to maintain the oneness of God and to affirm his uniqueness, to the extent that Tacitus could say ‘the Jews conceive of one God alone’ (Tacitus, Histories, 5.5.4). The earliest Christian Jewish leaders such as Paul can be regarded as those who held to this strict view according to which worship is reserved for the one Creator God, and not for creatures. They could hold to this strict Creator–creature divide without agreeing with other aspects of the strict monotheistic view which non-Christian Jews might hold. For example, as argued in Chapter  2, Paul held to the view that there is one Creator God and that there is a plurality of persons within the one God, but other monotheistic Jews might not accept that there is a plurality of persons. Nevertheless, both sides would agree to the importance of the Creator–creature divide. Various evidences indicate that the view that worship should be exclusively directed to the one Creator God was held by early Christian leaders such as Paul. For example, in Rom. 1:18–25 Paul asserts that the wrath of God is against those who worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator, and he implies that only God the Creator is worthy of worship. Dunn’s insightful comment on Rom. 1:25 expresses this well: For a typical Jew it was always an indication of the ludicrous folly of other religions that they preferred to worship the creature rather than the Creator … As Paul himself implies so clearly, man the creature is bound by his very nature to worship and serve something beyond himself. So that if he rejects the only one worthy of his worship and service, it is inevitable that he will direct that basic drive toward an inferior object and thus reduce his own stature in consequence. Who would think to choose as one’s master the created thing rather than the glorious Creator? But that is just what man has done. (Dunn 1988, vol.1, 63, 73; italics mine) Given this conviction, it is unlikely that Paul and other earliest Christian leaders could have conceived of worshipping a non-truly-divine Jesus as a way of worshipping God (cf. Dunn 1991, 194). They would probably have agreed with Bauckham that the reason why entities other than YHWH may not be worshipped is that such entities are created by God, benefit humans only in a way that

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derives ultimately from God, and they are merely ministers of God’s will, not independent sources of good (Bauckham 2008b, 41–43). It is noteworthy that Paul looked with contempt upon idolatry (l Cor. 10:14–22) and wrote of the oneness of God (e.g. Rom. 3:30; 1 Cor. 8:4–6; Gal. 3:20) (Capes 2004, 136 n.52; for further evidence of Paul’s Jewish monotheism, see Dunn 1998, 31–33; Hurtado 2003, 87–93). The emphasis on the oneness of God in these Pauline texts is best understood in the exclusive monotheistic sense that Bauckham has explained, namely that there is only one God the Creator. Additionally, Hurtado observes that, although letters such as 1 Thessalonians and 1 Corinthians are letters sent to Gentile churches, the religious standpoint is ‘mainly shaped by biblical/Jewish tradition (reshaped, of course, to include Jesus). So, for example, the rhetoric of 1 Thess. 1:9–10, about forsaking “idols” (a Jewish word for the gods!) to serve “a true and living God” (note the combativeness of this phrase); and the hostile and disdainful treatment of pagan religion in 1 Cor. 8 and 10’ (Hurtado 2014b). Peppard objects by stating that ‘Even Paul, a “monotheist,” refers to “the god of this age/world” (ὁ θεὸς του̑αἰω̑ νος τούτου, 2 Cor. 4:4) and admits, perhaps ironically, “there are many gods” (εἰσὶν θεοὶ πολλοί, 1 Cor. 8:5, perhaps referring to Ps. 136:2)’ (Peppard 2011, 197). However, Paul prefaces the mentioning of ‘many gods’ in 1 Cor. 8:5 by saying that they are ‘so-called’ (λεγόμενοι) gods, which implies that they have no reality in the sense that they do not in fact represent what might truly be called a ‘god’ but rather demons (cf. 1 Cor. 8:4, 10:19–20) (Fee 1988, 471). As for the ‘god of this age’, Paul’s similar usage elsewhere in Phil. 3:19 (‘their god is the belly’ Euripides Cycl. 336–338) indicates that he is probably referring to what is falsely regarded as god by unbelievers (Keener 2005, 173). In any case, it has been explained previously that, while creatures may sometimes be called ‘gods’ in biblical texts (e.g. in Ps. 136:2 cited by Peppard), the conviction that there is only one God the Creator remains clear. Other than the evidences in the Pauline epistles, there are other texts in the New Testament which indicate that the early Christians held the attitude that worship should be exclusively directed to the one Creator God. For example, Acts 14:8–18 portrays the people at Lystra wanting to worship Paul and Barnabas as gods after Paul had done a miracle, but Barnabas and Paul refused, urging them instead to worship ‘the living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them’ (v.15). It is interesting to note that, while Ehrman cites this passage as an example of how people in the

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first century could regard humans as divine (Ehrman 2014, 21), in the context of the present debate it indicates how strongly the early Christians held to monotheism in Bauckham’s sense of the term and how they would have rejected the worship of created beings which was practised by pagans such as the people at Lystra. In summary, even if some Jews in Second Temple Judaism might have compromised in their thinking concerning monotheism and speculated about the exaltation of various figures, Christian leaders such as Paul and his co-workers evidently insisted that worship should be directed only to the one Creator God. Hence, the worship of Jesus reflected in Paul’s epistles (see Chapter 2) would imply that Jesus was regarded to be within the being of God the Creator, and that is what matters for the premise that highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians in the sense that Hurtado, Bauckham et al. intended. Hurtado is aware of the performance of the gesture of ‘bowing down’ (προσκύνησις) by Jews before superior human beings (e.g. kings, victors in battle; see, for example, 1 Chron. 29:20; Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica 40.3.3-8; 1 En. 48:5; 62:6–9; Josephus, Ant. 11.331–335; Life of Adam and Eve 12–16). He contrasts this with the worship of God, claiming that the kind of attribution of honour which was intended in those cases was different from worship (Hurtado 2003, 38–42). Peppard objects by arguing that it is ‘methodologically tricky to discern the intention of ancient figures when they bowed before their rulers or masters’ and that ‘practices have a logic of their own; intention does not always, or even usually, play a part’ (Peppard 2011, 25). However, in the case of ‘bowing down’, the logic of this practice by itself is unclear, and the context determined its meaning: προσκύνησις became unacceptable to strict monotheistic Jews in contexts that gave it idolatrous overtones (cf. Acts 10:25–26) (Bauckham 1998, 134–135). Moreover, intention and context can be discerned from the texts; in the case of worship of YHWH, there was clear ascription of his worthiness as the Creator in the Psalms (e.g. Ps. 96:4–5), whereas there is no such cultic acknowledgement of human beings (whether kings, victors in battle, etc.) as being involved in the work of creating all things in texts written by Second Temple Jews (except in the case of Jesus; see Chapter 2). Against Hurtado’s view on The Life of Adam and Eve 12–16, Fletcher-Louis (2015, 271) claims that this text portrays the worship of an ideal prelapsarian human (Adam). He argues that the combination of angels ‘bowing down’ (προσκύνησις) to Adam and him

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being in the ‘image’ and ‘likeness’ of a deity (cf. Gen. 1:26–27) would indicate an act of worship for every reader in antiquity. If the authors had wanted to convey otherwise they would have chosen other verbs such as ‘obey’ rather than ‘bowing down’. Additionally, he thinks that Daniel 2:46 portrays that Nebuchadnezzar worshipped the human Daniel and that the text does not say that Daniel rejected this act of worship (Fletcher-Louis 2015, 240–244). He compares the concept of an ideal human with Col. 1:15, which says that Christ is the image of the invisible God (Fletcher-Louis 2015, 255). He concludes that many ancient Jews would have regarded it theologically appropriate to think that God could have commanded angels and people to worship an ideal human being who bears the character of the one true God as a representation of God. He thinks that this would not be considered a threat to the unique identity of the one God, for there is no worship of the creature instead of the Creator (Fletcher-Louis 2015, 269–271, 301–304). Instead of a clear Creator–creature distinction, God can share his own nature with another entity such that it is divine but not fully included within the divine identity, as indicated by texts which speak of God taking up residence in the Temple and Christians being ‘partakers of divine nature’ (2 Peter 1:4) (Fletcher-Louis 2015, 306–312). In reply, The Life of Adam and Eve may well have portrayed the worship of Adam (just as 1 Enoch portrayed the worship of Enoch). However, there is no clear evidence of actual cultic worship of Adam or Enoch; the worship of these figures may be merely literary speculations (Hurtado 2000, 72). Fletcher-Louis thinks that there are passages (e.g. in the Georgian and Armenian versions of The Life of Adam and Eve) which hint that the prelapsarian Adam did play a role in Israel’s liturgical life, but he admits it is not clear how these passages functioned in a pre-Christian version of the story, and only the possibility rather than the actuality of cultic worship is indicated (Fletcher-Louis 2015, 277–279). Moreover, there is no evidence that the earliest Christians accepted cultic devotion to Adam or Enoch just as they accepted cultic devotion to Jesus. On the contrary, they probably would have regarded this as contrary to the strict monotheism which they held, as argued above. Concerning Daniel, it is true that he was said to have received from Nebuchadnezzar gifts and an exalted position (2:48–9), but the text does not say that Daniel accepted Nebuchadnezzar’s worship. If he did, this may well have resulted in the setting up of a cult that would continue the worship of him in pagan Babylon, similar to the cultic

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worship of the golden image portrayed in Daniel 3. But there is no indication of a Danielic cult in the text or elsewhere. The fact that the text does not mention whether Daniel accepted Nebuchadnezzar’s worship can be explained by recognizing that the main message which Daniel 2:46 is trying to convey is that Nebuchadnezzar expressed an apprehension of divine powers at work in Daniel in his own pagan way,4 not whether it is appropriate to worship humans.5 Thus Fletcher-Louis seems to have read too much into this text. Going back to 1 Enoch and The Life of Adam and Eve, it can be argued that, while a number of ancient Jews might have speculated (without actual cultic practice) regarding the theological appropriateness of suggesting that God commands the worship of an ideal human being, there is no indication that the earliest Christians would have accepted this speculation. On the contrary, texts from the Psalms and the letters of Paul, both of which were regarded as authoritative in early Christianity, such as Ps 96:4–5 and Rom. 1:25, convey the idea that the Creator is worthy of worship precisely because he is the Creator of all things. There is no way a mere ideal human being, who possesses only a human nature and who exists only after the universe has already existed, could bear the property of being the Creator of all things. Such an ideal human may possess the ‘image’ and ‘likeness’ of YHWH in the sense of being able to represent God in certain respects (e.g. ruling wisely, making right moral choices), but not in the sense of being the Creator of all things. Fletcher-Louis objects that a sovereign God would have the freedom to deify whom he wills (Fletcher-Louis 2015, 307). But the idea of God’s sovereignty and freedom in the Old and New Testament does not imply the understanding that God would act in a way that is contrary to his own nature. On the contrary, passages which say that God will not lie (1 Sam. 15:29; Titus 1:2; Heb. 6:17–18) indicate that God will not act 4 Likewise, the Egyptian worship of Joseph portrayed in Jubilees 40:7 (cf. Fletcher-Louis 2015, 244). 5 This is unlike Dan. 7:13–14, which conveys the appropriateness of the worship of the ‘one like the son of man’. Fletcher-Louis (2015, 243) thinks that the worship of this Adam-like figure who represents God’s people in Daniel 7 implies the appropriateness of worship of Daniel in Dan. 2:46. But he ignores the fact that the figure of Daniel 7 is also said to have come on the clouds, an imagery that is associated with YHWH in the Old Testament (Ps. 104:3, Isa. 19:1, etc.) (Bock 2000, 201). Additionally, there is no indication in the book of Daniel that the mysterious ‘one like a son of man’ in Daniel 7 was a mere creature, rather than (say) God incarnate (which would imply that he was not merely human, but also truly divine, and hence worthy of worship). Whereas Daniel is never said to have come on the clouds; he is merely a human creature who has received wisdom from God.

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contrary to his own nature. To order the worship of a creature would be understood by the earliest Christians as contrary to God’s nature of being the only Creator of all things and hence the only one worthy of worship. In his comparison of The Life of Adam and Eve with Col. 1:15, Fletcher-Louis fails to observe that Colossians 1 goes on to say that ‘all things have been created through him (Christ)’ (v.16), something which is never said of Adam. Moreover, as explained previously, texts such as 1 Cor.8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11 indicate that Jesus was regarded to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide, who pre-existed the existence of all things and through whom all things came into existence. Therefore, it is more reasonable to think that the earliest Christians worshipped Jesus not because they regarded him as an ideal human whom God ordered to worship, but because they regarded him as not merely human, but also truly divine, i.e. involved in the creation of all things. On this view, the Creator was clearly distinct from creation as he existed prior to ‘all things’, but this does not preclude the possibility of him manifesting his presence in the temple, allowing Christians to be ‘partakers of divine nature’, or taking up a human nature at the incarnation. The recognition of the earliest Christians’ conviction concerning the Creator–creature divide is also relevant for assessing DeConick’s reference to Jacob in the Prayer of Joseph noted in the previous section. To begin, the surviving text of the Prayer of Joseph is only a portion of a much larger document, and the exact date or larger intent of the original work is uncertain (Hurtado 1988, 64), hence there is an inadequate basis for DeConick to cite it as evidence in any case. Moreover, the surviving text is a curious one, with features of magical, mystical and astrological literature (Bock 2000, 131). It is unlikely that Paul, a strict Jewish monotheist, would have engaged in speculations concerning servants of God similar to the speculation in this kind of pagan text or, for that matter, in the Samaritan tradition, without any hint of any opposition from the more traditionalist Jewish Christians reflected in his epistles (see further, Chapter  5). Again, unlike the case of Jesus, there is no cultic acknowledgement of Jacob being involved in the work of creating all things. Ehrman might object that the earliest Christians were not uniformly strict monotheists, and he might cite as example the condemnation of worship of angels by the Colossians (e.g. Col. 2:18). He argues ‘We know that some Jews thought that it was right to

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worship angels in no small part because a number of our surviving texts insist that it not be done. You don’t get laws prohibiting activities that are never performed’ (Ehrman 2014, 54–55). Likewise, Peppard claims that ‘Ancient Christians (or Jews) cannot uniformly be categorized as monotheistic. In the world of practices, even if one manages to incorporate early Christian devotion to Jesus into monotheism, one would still have to discount too many cults of the martyrs and saints and other superhuman beings to construct a clearly monotheistic version of early Christianity’ (Peppard 2011, 35). To such arguments Michael Kruger aptly responds Yes, you don’t get laws prohibiting activities that are never performed; but at the same time you can’t use laws prohibiting activities as evidence that those activities actually represent a religion’s views! It would be like using the Ten Commandments (which are filled with prohibitions) to argue that ancient Judaism was a religion that embraced idolatry, Sabbath-breaking, adultery, murder, coveting, and so on. (Kruger 2014) It is evident that in every religious group there would be some members who do not practise what the religion teaches and who go against what is prohibited by that religion. Here, our main concern is what was taught in earliest Christianity, not whether each and every member practised what they were taught. The premise of my argument is not that no first-century Jew or Christian could have practised idolatry, rather the premise is that idolatry was condemned in earliest Christianity by leaders such as Paul and his co-workers who taught the worship of Jesus. The texts which taught the strict monotheistic stance of worshipping only the Creator, such as Rom. 1:25 and 1 Cor. 8:4–6 (‘yet for us …’), taken together with other texts which imply that Paul shared the same faith and proclaimed the same gospel as the Jerusalem apostles (Gal. 1:23; 2:7–9; 1 Cor. 15:11, etc.; see Chapter 5), indicate that this stance was the position of the apostolic Christian faith which Paul shared. If the Jerusalem apostles did not hold this monotheistic stance, Paul and his co-workers would have condemned them as polytheists along with the pagans (see Rom. 1:18–25) rather than regarded them as sharing the same faith. Moreover, Jesus himself was evidently a monotheist, in particular, the ‘Jesus tradition’ includes the explicit recollection of Jesus drawing upon the Shema for his own teaching (Mark 12:28–31) (Dunn 2004,

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104–112).6 These evidences indicated that the Jerusalem apostles, together with Paul and his co-workers, held a strict monotheistic stance. Given that Paul and his co-workers taught that worship should be directed only to the one Creator God, their worship of Jesus indicates that they regarded Jesus as truly divine. Indeed, as noted in Chapter 2, 1 Cor. 8:6 indicates that Paul regarded Jesus to be involved in the work of creating all things, and this conviction is echoed in other early Christian texts as well (e.g. Col. 1:16, Heb. 1:2). The crucial question, which will be discussed further in subsequent chapters, is how Jesus could have been regarded as truly divine by those who affirm this strict monotheistic stance. Concerning the cults of the martyrs and saints and other superhuman beings in early Christianity, Peppard cites Moss (2010), who observes that the portrayal of angels paying homage to the martyrs in certain texts (such as the third-century Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas) indicates the superiority of the martyrs to these superhuman beings, and that martyrs and saints were regarded as ‘sons and daughters of God’ and ‘coheirs’ with Christ, enthroned and reigning over creation with him. Moss notes, however, that ‘my task here is not to say (much less prove) that martyrs were considered to be ontologically divine or that anyone confessed them as Gods’ (Moss 2010, 164). Unlike Christ in the early Christian texts (e.g. 1 Cor. 8:6; Col. 1:16; Heb. 1:2), there was no acknowledgement that the martyrs and saints or other superhuman beings belonged to the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. 3.3

Concerning the Angel of the LORD

With regard to the Angel of the LORD, some scholars have argued that angelomorphic traditions within Second Temple Judaism 6 Does the portrayal of Jesus’ citation of Ps. 82:6 ‘you are gods’ in John 10:33–6 imply a denial of this monotheism? According to John’s portrayal, Jesus was trying to show his Jewish opponents that their Scriptures (Ps. 82:6) say that humans can in some sense be called gods. This would indicate that it is not impossible that someone who has a human nature (e.g. Jesus himself) can also be divine (cf. John 10:33). Therefore, they should be open to considering the evidence of his works (John 10:37) which justifies his claim to be one with God the Father (John 10:30, 38). Thus Jesus’ argument only implies that it is not impossible that God could incarnate. This does not deny that there is a distinction between Creator and creature and that people should worship the Creator but not a mere creature. It is noteworthy that, according to John’s Gospel, Jesus was not a mere creature; rather, prior to his incarnation he was involved in the creation of all things (John 1:1–3), whereas the ‘gods’ mentioned in Ps. 82:6 and John 10:33–36 were not said to have been involved in the work of creating all things.

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influenced the development of high Christology in early Christianity (e.g. Fletcher-Louis 1997), and that the archangel Michael (Hannah 1999) and the Angel of the LORD (Gieschen 1998) provide convincing parallels. Others have objected that, unlike the case of devotion to Jesus, there is lack of evidence of groups of Second Temple Jews invoking, praying and praising angels together (Bauckham 2015). In any case, it is noteworthy that the Angel of the LORD in Exodus 23:20–21 alluded to in 3 Enoch may well be God appearing in anthropomorphic form. This is evidenced by the appearance of the Angel of the LORD to Hagar in another part of the Pentateuch, where at the conclusion of their encounter Hagar confesses that she has seen God (‘The Angel of the LORD found her by a spring of water in the wilderness, the spring on the way to Shur … So she named the Lord who spoke to her, “You are El-roi”; for she said, “Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?’’’ [Gen. 16:7–13 NRSV]) (Dearman 2002, 36–37, 37 n.18).7 In a few passages in the Old Testament the Angel of the LORD spoke for God in the first person (Exod. 3:2, 6, 14; Judges 2:1). These passages, which refer to the Angel of the LORD as YHWH yet distinct from YHWH, seem to indicate a plurality of persons within the Godhead. Given that the Angel of the LORD in these texts may well be a truly divine person within God the Creator rather than a mere creature, the suggestion that Paul could have engaged in a similar kind of thinking about Christ would not take away the force of the argument that Paul intended to convey that Christ was truly divine. That is, even if Paul did have such an Angel of the LORD in mind when he wrote about Christ, this would not take away the force of the argument (presented in Chapter 2) that Paul regarded Christ to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. Grillmeier points out that the Christos Angelos theme had an important position in early Christianity and that the practice of the church fathers of the second century was to interpret the theophanies of the Old Testament, in which the Angel of the LORD was the central figure, as theophanies of Christ. It is possible for ‘orthodox’ Christians to apply the word ‘angel’ to Christ as a functional category, without forcing down 7 Dearman (2002, 36–37, 37 n.18) notes that some have suggested that the OT ‘angel of the Lord’ is Christ pre-incarnate, or a typological prefigurement of Christ. Dearman also observes that in later Second Temple texts and in the New Testament (e.g. Zech. 3:1–10; Matt. 1: 20; Luke 1:11; 2:9) the ‘angel of the Lord’ is probably a reference to a particular angel (Gabriel?) who bears a message from God, since in these texts his appearance and activity can be distinguished from that of the Lord.

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Christ to the status of a created angel (Grillmeier 1975, 47–49; in contrast with some heretical groups of the second century such as the Ebionites who held Christ to be a created archangel [Hannah 1999, 215]). The following passages cited by Kruger can be understood as referring to created angels and not necessarily to the Angel of the LORD in Exodus 23:20–21 etc.:  Kruger notes that the New Testament authors distinguished Jesus from angels (Mark 1:13; Matt. 4:11), and stressed that Jesus was given lordship over the angels (Matt. 4:6, 26:53; Luke 4:10; Mark 13:27) and was exalted above the angels (Heb. 1:5, 13). In addition, Jesus was worshipped (Matt. 28:17; Luke 24:52) and regarded to be on the Creator side of the divide (1 Cor. 8:6; Col. 1:16), whereas angels were never portrayed as being involved in creating the world nor as worthy of worship (cf. Col. 2:18) (Kruger 2014). Stuckenbruck (1995) observes that plentiful examples of refusing worship to angels can be found in Jewish and early Christian writings (e.g. Rev. 19:10. 22:9). With regard to Gal. 4:14 – ‘received me as angel of God, as Christ Jesus’ – cited by Ehrman, Fee argues that this passage can be interpreted not as an identification of ‘angel’ with ‘Christ Jesus’ but as an expression of progression, i.e. one term (‘angel’) leading to the next term (‘Christ Jesus’) that is higher. This would imply that Christ is not identified as an angel in Gal. 4:14 but is regarded to be a full rung higher than the angels (Fee 2007, 229–231; see also Hannah 1999, 155–156; the discussion on angels continues in Section 3.4). 3.4

Concerning Kings, Messiahs and Others

Horbury (1998) proposes that the worship of Jesus as divine happened as an adaptation of the veneration of royal and messianic figures and martyrs found in ancient Jewish tradition. He cites evidence for a tradition of ‘cult’ given to such figures and argues that this was a ‘cultic’ precedent of the devotion to Jesus. The problem with Horbury’s view, as pointed out by Hurtado (2005, 20–22), is that he defines cult so vaguely that it includes any kind of respect or reverence and then treats all these different kinds as if they basically amount to the same thing and /or explain one another. By doing this he ignores the very real Jewish and Christian concerns about differentiating God the Creator from other beings (creatures), especially in the kind of reverence given. We have already seen in previous sections of this chapter how important this distinction was in

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earliest Christianity. Moreover, Hurtado points out that the fact is that we simply have no evidence that any figure, whether human or angelic, ever featured in the corporate and public devotional practice of Jewish circles in any way comparable to the programmatic role of Jesus in early Christian circles. For instance, the praise of Judean kings reflected in some of the Psalms and the reverence later shown for Jewish martyrs do not provide genuine analogies or precedents, and cannot, thus, furnish an adequate historical explanation (Hurtado 2005, 20–22). On the other hand, to argue for analogies in the Gentile religious environment would be irrelevant. Even though this was the environment of many early Christians (Peppard 2011, 24), those Gentiles who worshipped various human or divine figures did not hold to a sharp Creator–creature divide and insist that worship was to be reserved only for the Creator, unlike earliest Christian leaders such as Paul and his co-workers. Moving on to specific texts, with regard to Psalm 45:6 which is a wedding psalm addressed to the king of Israel, it has already been noted that in the Old Testament humans can be in some sense called gods (see Section 3.2.). In this case, the king of Israel was appointed by God to rule God’s people for Him.8 But Jesus was not merely called god, as noted earlier he was also regarded as being on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. Concerning Psalm 110, this can be understood as David’s declaration about his descendant Solomon in the hope that he would be the ideal ruler (Bateman 1992), but which may be applicable also to the future Davidic kings/king who would fulfil the promise of a never failing kingdom in 2 Sam. 7.  Therefore, it is not necessarily hermeneutically illegitimate for Jesus (as portrayed by the Gospels) to use this psalm to refer to that Messiah who would fulfil this promise after the destruction of the monarchy in 586 BC. Bock (1996, 1648)  argues that Psalms 2, 45 and 110 were originally applied to human figures (the king), but they also prophetically picture a pattern of relationship between a person and God the Father which, for the New Testament authors, comes to be especially true – and often uniquely true – of Jesus. This helps to explain why so many messianic texts overlap with Judaism’s expectations, which also sensed these

8 Hence, the point that the author of Hebrews is trying to convey in his citation of Ps. 45 in Hebrews 1:8 is that in this sense the king (whom Jesus is) is superior to created angels as angels are never said in the Scriptures to be appointed by God to rule God’s people for him.

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patterns in the texts, though they debated how to put the package together (Bock 1987, 49–50, 271–3). Bock argues that the most natural explanation for the central role of Ps. 110:1 (‘The LORD says to my Lord: “Sit at My right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet” ’) in early Christianity is that it was rooted in Jesus’ teaching. Citing Daube (1956, 158–63), Bock observes that Jesus’ question in the Gospels (e.g. ‘Therefore David calls Him “Lord”, and how is He his son?’ Luke 20:44) is formed like a rabbinic paradox, where two things are opposed to one another and yet both are true, nevertheless one needs qualification (‘how’ is really asking ‘in what sense’):  The normal situation is that the father has authority over the son. But in this case, it is the reverse. Jesus’ answer is not a denial of Davidic sonship, but rather an implication that the Messiah as David’s Lord transcends him. While Jesus’ use of the psalm may be more focused than that of the Judaism of his era, given that the psalm was understood royally it would also apply to Messiah as well (Bock 1996, 1630–1641). In sum, passages like Psalms 2:7, 45:6 and 110 are applied to kings, and since Jesus was regarded as king by the earliest Christian leaders, they applied these passages to Jesus as well. But we have seen in Chapter 2 that there are other passages in the New Testament (e.g. 1 Cor. 8:6 etc.) which indicate that Jesus was also regarded to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. This goes beyond the use of Psalms 2:7, 45:6 and 110 in the Old Testament, and thus Ehrman’s objection on the basis of these psalms does not work. As for ‘Son of God’, this is a metaphorical term used by the biblical authors to convey the idea that certain persons had an intimate relationship with God the Father. It is used for angels (Gen. 6:2–4;9 Job 1:6), Adam (Luke 3:38), Israel (Hosea 11:1), Christians (Gal. 3:26), Ephraim (Jer. 31:9) and the Israelite king (2 Sam 7:14; Ps. 2:7). Concerning the last category, Winn explains The identity of the king as God’s son conveys a variety of meanings: the king as the recipient of God’s paternal faithfulness to and love for the king (2 Sam 7:14–16; Ps 89:24, 28–37); the king as God’s agent who exercises God’s authority on earth (Ps. 2); the king as the heir and the recipient of God’s inheritance (Ps. 2:7–8); the king as the recipient

9 Some scholars think that sons of God in Gen. 6:2–4 may be referring to descendants of Seth or godly men rather than angels.

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of God’s paternal discipline (2 Sam 7:14; Ps 89:20–27); and God’s role as the progenitor of the king, since it is God who called and established Israel’s kings. (Winn 2013, 886) Winn goes on to note that ‘unlike the concept of divine sonship in Egyptian, Persian or Hellenistic thought, the king of Israel was not perceived in any way as either divine or a literal Son of God’(Winn 2013, 886). An important biblical text that Ehrman cites is Isaiah 9:6–7: For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this. (Isa. 9:6–7 NRSV) There is dispute among scholars concerning whether the prophecy in Isaiah 9:6–7 is simply referring to Hezekiah. On the one hand, many scholars have claimed that Isaiah 9:6–7 was composed for Hezekiah’s enthronement. Noting the usage of the imperfect consecutive tense, Wildberger suggests that the birth of the child is not in the distant future but has possibly already taken place (Wildberger1991, 400). Collins and Collins argue that the figure called Mighty God was a contemporary figure and the passage is inherently political, being an example of Near Eastern royal ideology as adapted in Jerusalem, and that the historical specificity of this passage as words of hope to people in the eighth century BC troubled by the Assyrians should not be disregarded. They note that this interpretation is not certain, that some commentators reject this, that there are problems in the chronology, that the divinity of the king is not otherwise thematized in the book of Isaiah, and that the prophet and the people who transmitted and edited his oracles would have been sceptical of any claim to divine status concerning Israel’s king. On the last point, they suggest that the proclamation in Isaiah 9 was allowed to stand, without any hint of criticism, because the passage was understood as articulating an ideal of kingship that no human ruler could fulfil (for example, neither Hezekiah nor any other ruler could guarantee endless peace noted in Isaiah 9:7) (Collins and Collins 2008, 14, 40–42).

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On the other hand, against the identification of the child as Hezekiah, Oswalt argues that (1) Such view does not accord with the chronology; (2) The description of the child cannot be applied to a merely human king; (3) The nature of the unlimited rule promised in verse 7 transcends a normal earthly rule (Oswalt 1986, 246). There is also dispute concerning what the term ‘Mighty God’ implies in this case. Some have argued that ‘Mighty God’ does not imply divinity but merely emphasizes the extraordinary skill and strength of the king as a warrior (Clements 1980, 108). Horbury notes that ‘Mighty God’ is rendered in the LXX as ‘angel of great counsel’. He argues that this gains pictorial force from the possibility of identifying the child with the ‘great light’ announced in Isaiah 9:2 (cf. Matt. 4:16; Luke 1:79), and is consistent with Isaiah 11:2–4  ‘a spirit of God shall rest upon him … a spirit of the fear of God shall fill him’ and Isaiah 61:1 ‘the spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me’ (Horbury 1998, 90–91). Horbury observes that such superhuman portrayals were not in principle incompatible with portrayals of the Messiah as having human qualities (e.g. mortality) and/or as a conquering king, as is evident in 2 Esdras and Sibylline oracles (Horbury 1998, 105–107). Other scholars, such as Oswalt, have argued that ‘Mighty God’ is exclusive for YHWH, noting that wherever el gibbor occurs elsewhere in the Bible there is no doubt that the term refers to YHWH (Isaiah 10:21; cf. also Deut. 10:17; Jer. 32:18) (Oswalt 1986, 247). Against this, it has been argued that the title can be understood in relation to the ancient Near Eastern idea of kingship, in which the king was portrayed as the divinity whom he represents (Wildberger 1991, 406). Oswalt replies by denying pagan influence, arguing that the pagan ideas were expression of their belief that the kings were gods, a belief that goes against the grain of Hebrew monotheism (Oswalt 1986, 246). In any case, it is clear that, while there were people who prayed to Mighty God YHWH and attributed benedictions or prophecies to him, there was no indication that people prayed to Hezekiah or attributed benedictions or prophecies to him (unlike the case of Jesus).10 Thus Ehrman’s reference to Isaiah 9:6–7 and Hezekiah fails as a counter-example to Hurtado’s argument concerning the worship of Jesus.

10

Hurtado made a similar point to me in private conversation.

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In view of the difficulties of regarding Isaiah 9:6–7 as simply referring to Hezekiah or to a future messianic descendant, it seems best to regard this passage as referring to both. As Provan writes, Hezekiah was ‘a paradigmatic king in whose reign the promises were in fact as yet unfulfilled, and who thus points beyond himself to another Davidic monarch to come’ (Provan 1995, 83). This seems consistent with the idea, evident in the Scriptures, that the descendant of a person is often regarded as in some sense within that person (e.g. Gen. 25:23 describes nations that descended from Esau and Jacob to be within their ancestors, and Heb. 7:10 states that Levi was within the loins of his ancestor Abraham before he was born). This view is also consistent with Dynastic Messianism which, as Schibler explains, expresses a belief and hope that the descendants of David will match him in practising justice and righteousness (cf. the royal ideology expressed in Psalms 72, 89 and 132). While the rulers on the throne often fell far short of the ideal and needed to be replaced, a deeper, yet-unrealized meaning in these passages was apparent to the Jews of later centuries (Schibler 1995, 97–100). Horbury himself argues that, while the messianic prophecies were regularly regarded as referring to one of the past Jewish kings (e.g. Hezekiah) rather than Jesus in Judaism’s disputation with Christians (e.g. Trypho in Justin’s Dialogue, 33–34), reference of a passage to one of the kings of old would not rule out a further reference to a still awaited messianic king. ‘He would form the climax of the line of good kings, and could be envisaged as David, Solomon or Hezekiah come again’ (Horbury 1998, 67). Schibler explains further, All three traditional messianic prophecies have an expectancy about them …‘Immanuel’ (7:14), ‘Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace’ (9:6 [Heb. v.51]) and ‘shoot’, ‘branch’ (cf. 4:2) and ‘root’ (11:1, 10). All of these names or terms have ‘a measure of intended opaqueness’ (Talon) about them that simply eludes exegesis. And yet, as with other enigmatic terms found in the Old Testament-’seed of the woman’ (Gn. 3:15), ‘Shiloh’ (Gn. 49:10), ‘star and sceptre’ (Nu. 24:17), ‘prophet like Moses’ (Dt. 18:15), to name only the ones in the Pentateuch-they have traditionally been taken to denote somebody special. Who? That is the question. As one reads of these persons and what is expected of them or associated with them, it is as if one were to go beyond the immediate historical

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Replies to Objections Involving Various Exalted Figures context and one’s hope were transferred to a more distant and thus opaque future leader … Old Testament writers saw that there would be a doctor, but they never disclosed his identity entirely. So it is vain to seek complete disclosure in the Old Testament … What is important is to realize that Messianism in general and messianic prophecies in particular all had a beginning, a terminus a quo, and an end, a terminus ad quem, and in between a whole range or history of fulfilments. But when Jesus of Nazareth had come, the early church and generations of Christians following it have believed that, ultimately speaking, every messianic prophecy, every messianism even, found its fulfilment in Jesus, the ‘Christ’ which – let us not forget this each time we say it – means the Messiah. (Schibler 1995, 103–104)

Thus, titles like ‘Mighty God’ can be understood as finding their fulfilment not in Hezekiah but in a future Messiah. Horbury argues that the pre-existence of the Messiah is suggested by biblical oracles such as Isa. 9:6 and Micah 5:2 (‘… from of old, from the days of eternity’),11 and it characterizes the glorious messianic figure depicted with traits of the Danielic Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch, 2 Esdras and the Fifth Sibylline Book (Horbury 1998, 86–89, 95, 190). Horbury observes that, although some have claimed that the Son of Man in Dan. 7 is the angel Michael, in the earliest interpretation the Son of Man in Dan. 7:13 was viewed messianically. This can be seen from a number of texts written from the middle of the first century BC to the middle of the second century AD, such as the Parables of Enoch (which speculates that this Son of Man is Enoch), 2 Esdras, the Fifth Sibylline Book, a saying attributed to R. Akiba and Justin Martyr’s Dialogue (Horbury 1998, 33–34). In addition, it has been argued that the Son of Man in Daniel 7 should not be understood as a symbol of the elect people of God but as a reference to a particular person (Owen 2011, 35–38; cf. Casey 2007), and that neither Michael nor other heavenly beings mentioned in Daniel fit the description of the Son of Man as being truly divine and human. He was portrayed as coming with the clouds (an imagery that is associated with YHWH [Ps. 104:3; Isa. 19:1, etc.]), yet distinguished from the Ancient of Days 11 It should be noted that ‘from the days of eternity’ has been rendered as ‘from ancient times’ by other scholars, taking this to be referring to the Messiah’s ancient origins in the line of David.

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(Hamilton 2014, ch.6). Moreover, unlike exalted figures such as Adam, Enoch, etc. who were evidently regarded by Jews as known historical individuals and creatures of God, there is no indication in the book of Daniel that the mysterious ‘one like a son of man’ in Daniel 7 was a mere creature and not (say, for example) God incarnate. It might be argued that the ‘one like a son of man’ portrayed in the vision in Daniel 7 may well have been the Messiah (= Christ) who was truly divine as well as truly human, regardless of whether Daniel (or the author of Daniel) himself may or may not have expected the Messiah to be truly divine (Hamilton 2014, ch.6). If that is the case, Ehrman’s reference to this Son of Man would not take away the force of the argument that Christ was regarded as truly divine in earliest Christianity. On the other hand, Hurtado points out that ‘for historical analysis, we must always ask about actual religious practices’, and he observes that, unlike the case of cultic devotion to Jesus, there is no indication that historical Jewish groups met to address a cultic devotion to some heavenly ‘Son of Man’ figure (Hurtado 2005, 127). The ‘one like a son of man’ in Daniel 7 was a mysterious figure, while Jesus was a historical figure who was known by his disciples and was worshipped in earliest Christianity. Thus Ehrman’s reference to this Son of Man fails as a counter-example to Hurtado’s argument concerning the worship of Jesus in any case. Horbury (1998, 86–88) argues that portrayals of a ‘spiritual messiah’, who could be understood as the embodiment of an angel-like spirit or a human with superhuman qualities, have biblical roots and are widely attested in biblical interpretation from the time of the LXX Pentateuch onwards. Following the suggestion of Bousset and von Harnack, Horbury thinks that ‘a line would then lead from Jewish Messianism to what has been classified as “Spirit-Christology”, in which Christ is the “holy spirit” and “power of the highest” who overshadowed the Virgin (Luke 1:35 as interpreted by Justin, I  Apol 33; Dial 105, i)’ (Horbury 1998, 125). However, critics of Horbury argue that, while there appears to be an atmosphere in pre-Christian Judaism leading towards an understanding of the Messiah as a pre-existent figure, many Jews continue to view the Messiah as a merely human figure. Horbury himself observes that in the second century the ‘merely human messiah’ view characterized Jewish messianic belief in contrast with Christian Messianism, citing the portrayal of the Jewish Trypho’s insistence that the Jews’ Messiah would be ‘of merely human origin’

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in Justin’s Dialogue (49, 1)  (Horbury 1998, 87).12 The point which critics of Horbury are making is that there was no unified and coherent concept of a pre-existent Messiah for the early church to readily apply it to Jesus. (This does not exclude the possibility that some texts such as Ps. 110 and Dan. 7:13–14 can be interpreted as entailing the pre-existence of the Messiah.) As Bauckham remarks, ‘We should remember that the Hebrew Bible contains a range of texts that might be understood to refer to the Messiah, and what sort of Messiah one envisaged depended a lot on which texts one emphasized’ (Bauckham 2011, 88). Additionally, while the messianic figure in the Old Testament was portrayed to be filled by the Spirit in passages in Isaiah, it would be fallacious to conclude from this observation that he pre-existed as the Spirit. It should also be noted that the New Testament distinguishes the person of Christ from the person of the Holy Spirit and, as argued previously, affirmed that the person of Christ is truly divine (e.g. 1 Cor. 8:6; other texts imply that the Holy Spirit is regarded to be truly divine as well; for example, Paul writes that the Holy Spirit knows the thoughts of God which include knowledge of all things [1 Cor. 2:10–11]; this implies that the Holy Spirit possesses divine omniscience; see also the discussion on Matt. 28:19 in Chapter 7). In closing, it is worth emphasizing that the acknowledgement of Christ in 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11 surpasses those of exalted figures such as Adam, Moses, Jacob, Enoch, etc. in Jewish texts. As noted previously in Chapter 2, it is evident from the context of Isa 45:23 that the bowing of every knee and the swearing of allegiance of every tongue are actions that convey the recognition of the recipient as Creator and Lord of all creatures. In Phil. 2:10–11, Paul indicates that the recipient of these actions is Jesus, and this is consistent with Paul’s acknowledgement of Jesus as pre-existent in the μορφῇ of God in Phil. 2:6 and being on the Creator side of the divide in 1 Cor. 8:6. This acknowledgement of Jesus goes beyond merely attributing the name ‘YHWH’ in a qualified sense, as in the case of Moses in Philo’s

12 Horbury observes that ‘Justin represents Trypho as conceding, with all his emphasis on the human origin of the messiah, that Daniel 7 and like scriptures constrain him to await “one great and glorious”, who takes over the everlasting kingdom as Son of Man from the Ancient of Days (Dial. 32. 1). This concession is true to the interpretation of Daniel current in the second century in the Apocalypse of Ezra and the Fifth Sibylline book. The messiah as king is close to the “gods” in the form of angels, as is repeatedly shown by the “spiritual” strand in the messianic depictions just noted’ (Horbury 1998, 107).

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writing and the case of Yahoel in the Apocalypse of Abraham, and it goes beyond merely affirming God’s sharing of certain divine prerogatives with various individuals (Adam, Enoch, etc.). In those Jewish texts, exalted figures like Moses, Adam, Enoch, etc. were not acknowledged to be involved in the creation of all things (contrast the acknowledgement of Jesus in 1 Cor. 8:6 discussed in Chapter 2) nor pre-existent in the μορφῇ of God (contrast Phil. 2:6). With regard to the book attributed to Ezekiel the Tragedian, Moses was said to have been invited by God to sit on his throne. This can be understood as God appointing Moses to rule other people on his behalf (cf. Exod. 7:1, where God told Moses that he has been made like God to Pharaoh) rather than implying that Moses was ontologically divine (Bird 2014a, 43–44); there is certainly no affirmation that Moses was involved in creating the universe. Moreover, Hurtado observes that the speculations concerning exalted figures in Judaism such as Adam, Jacob, Moses and the Son of Man in 1 Enoch all appear as literary phenomena. There is no indication that Jewish groups (e.g. those that produced 1 Enoch) actually practised rituals of cultic reverence to these figures (e.g. at the Jewish Temple). This means that the obeisance described is not properly worship of the figures as deities by any group of devout Jews, and hence they are not analogous to the religious practices of early Christians (Hurtado 2000, 72).13 Hence the supposed counter-evidence found in 1 Enoch etc. fails as genuine counter-evidence to the actual cultic reverence of Jesus by the earliest Christians. In addition, Hurtado argues that the collective force of the phenomena constitutes a genuine mutation in monotheistic practice:  While for this or that phenomenon there may be interesting partial analogies (e.g. invocation of angels in magic rituals),14 there is no evidence that any figure (kings, martyrs, angels, etc.) ever featured in the corporate and public devotional practice of Jewish circles in any way is comparable to the programmatic role of Jesus in early Christian circles. There were therefore no genuine analogies or

13 Cf. Stuckenbruck, who observes that in early Jewish writings there are passages in which praise and/or blessing are directed towards angels alongside God, and he argues that in Joseph and Aseneth, Aseneth’s worship of the angel was not refused (Stuckenbruck 2004, 54–67). Nevertheless, he observes that ‘in none of the passages discussed is there any hint that in Judaism a cultus was being organized around angelic beings’ (Stuckenbruck 2004, 68). 14 cf. Stuckenbruck, who observes that prayer addressed directly to angels is found in a double inscription from Rheneia (Stuckenbruck 2004, 53).

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precedents (Hurtado 2000, 72; 2005, 20–22; even if the singing of hymns to Christ is debatable as noted in Chapter 2, the constellation of the other phenomena noted by Hurtado remains impressive). Tilling has advanced another argument. He observes that the data concerning the believers–Jesus relation in Pauline epistles corresponds far more closely with the pattern of data concerning the believers–YHWH relation than the believers–exalted figures relation in The Life of Adam and Eve, 1 Enoch, etc. (Tilling 2012, ch.9).15 Tilling observes that the Shema’s confession of God’s oneness in Deut. 6:4 is immediately followed by the command ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might’ (v.5). He argues that this conviction concerning the relationship between believers and YHWH fits the believers–Jesus relation in Pauline epistles (as noted in Chapter 2), but not the relationship between believers and Adam, Enoch, kings etc. in Jewish texts (Tilling 2014, 138). In view of this and other considerations explained above, the objection concerning various exalted figures in Second Temple Judaism fails.

15 Tilling also questions whether 1 Enoch was written by Jews (Tilling 2012, 204–205, 215; compare with the conclusion of the Enoch Seminar that 1 En. 37–71 is a pre-Christian Jewish document written around the first century BC [Boccaccini 2007, 15]; 2 Enoch is probably written around the late first century CE, while 3 Enoch took its present form probably in the fifth century CE).

4 REPLIES TO OTHER OBJECTIONS CONCERNING THE HIGHEST CHRISTOLOGY OF THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANS

4.1

Concerning the Claim That According to Acts the Earliest Christians Did Not Worship Jesus

Jewish scholar Geza Vermès (2001, 129)  claims that according to Acts the earliest Christians did not worship Jesus, and this might be taken as evidence against the conclusion of Chapter 2. In reply, it is widely recognized that Acts and the Gospel of Luke are composed by the same author, and this Gospel affirms that the προσκύνησις of Jesus by the first Christians had begun earlier at Jesus’ ascension (Luke 24:52). Now it has been noted previously that προσκύνησις does not necessarily imply worship; we need to consider the context. It is striking that the author of Luke-Acts regards προσκύνησις as worship which Peter was said to have refused because he was merely human (Acts 10:25–26), while προσκύνησις offered to Jesus in Luke 24:52 is regarded as appropriate (Gathercole 2006, 70). This suggests that Luke-Acts affirms the worship of Jesus by the first Christians, which had already begun earlier at Jesus’ ascension (Luke 24:52), even before the Pentecost in Acts!1 Even if one denies that προσκύνησις in Luke 24:52 intends to convey the worship of Jesus, there are other passages in Acts which, as Hurtado argues, portray that Jesus’ name was used liturgically by the earliest Christians, such that Jesus-devotion, including cultic actions concerned with him, seems to be central to the conflict with Jewish authorities. Some examples noted by Hurtado include: G

The apostles are portrayed as proclaiming Jesus’ name as the sole basis of salvation (Acts 4:12; note the promise of salvation in Joel 2:28 to all who ‘call upon the name of the Lord

1 A few manuscripts lacked the phrase ‘worshipped him’ in v.52, but there is strong attestation for this phrase in the other manuscripts and thus it should be accepted as original (Bock 1996, vol.2, 1950).

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G

G

G

G

Replies to Other Objections [YHWH]’, the citation of Joel’s promise in Peter’s sermon in Acts 2:21, and the reference to Jesus as Lord in the same sermon in Acts 2:36). The apostles are warned by the authorities to cease speaking in Jesus’ name (4:17–18; 5:40). Philip’s preaching in Samaria concerns both ‘the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ’ (8:12). Miracles are performed through ritual use of Jesus’ name (3:6, 16; 4:10, 30). The Christians persecuted by Paul are portrayed as ‘those who invoke [ἐπικαλέω] Jesus’ name’ (9:14, 21) (Hurtado 2005, 157 n.17, 160–161; for the cultic significance of ἐπικαλέω, see Section 2.4).

In addition, the baptismal phrases ‘In the name of Jesus Christ’ (Acts 2:38); ‘In the name of the Lord’ (Acts 8:16); ‘In the name of Jesus Christ’ (Acts 10:48); ‘In the name of the Lord Jesus’ (Acts 19:5) are highly significant. As Hartman observes, in Jewish-rabbinic usage of the phrase ‘into the name’ in contexts concerning religious rites implies that the rites ‘are performed “into the name” of the god, whose cult the rite belongs to or who is otherwise associated with the rite in question. This god is the fundamental referent of the rite; he/ she is the one whom the worshipper “has in mind” or “with regard to” whom the rite is performed and who thus makes it meaningful’ (Hartman 1997, 42, 150; see further, Section 7.3). Therefore, the description of the devotional practices of the earliest Christians by the author of Luke-Acts is not inconsistent with the conclusion of Chapter  2 (based on the evidence in the Pauline epistles) that highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians.

4.2

Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Distinguished from and Subordinated to God

Concerning Phil. 2:6–11, Dunn raises an objection by observing that verse 11 says ‘every tongue confesses that Jesus Christ is Lord (κύριος) to the glory of God the Father’ and arguing that Jesus was not identified with God (Jesus is Lord, God is Father). Dunn also notes the repeated formula in the Pauline letters in which God is spoken of as ‘the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (e.g. Rom. 15:6; 2 Cor. 1:3; 11:31) and stresses that even as Lord, Jesus acknowledges

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his Father as his God. He takes this to mean that κύριος is not so much a way of identifying Jesus with God, but a way of distinguishing Jesus from God, citing 1 Corinthians 3:23, ‘You are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s’, 1 Corinthians 11:3, ‘the head of Christ is God’, and 1 Corinthians 15:24–28, where it states that the lordship of Christ is one which will in the end be wholly subject to God (Dunn 1998, 254–255; 2010, 110–112). In reply, it has been noted in Chapter 1 that there is more than one way in which the word ‘God’ can be used: (1) (2)

‘God’ can be used to denote the one truly divine being YHWH, the Creator of all things. ‘God’ can be used to denote any person (e.g. God the Father) who has the property of being truly divine.

Dunn assumes that Paul uses the word ‘God’ in the first sense and that the Father = God (YHWH), which excludes Jesus from the one truly divine being. However, this interpretation contradicts what Paul himself says in 1 Cor. 8:6 and other passages, as explained in Chapter 2. It is better, therefore, to understand Paul as using the word ‘God’ in the second sense in the above-mentioned passages Dunn cites. This would be consistent with the idea that Christ and the Father are both within YHWH, an idea which is indicated by 1 Cor. 8:6 as explained previously. The passages Dunn cites imply that Christ is a distinguishable person from God the Father who receives the glory. However, this does not imply that Christ is a non-divine entity separate from YHWH. Rather, as indicated by 1 Cor. 8:6, YHWH includes two distinct persons, Christ and God the Father. It can be argued that in his epistles Paul uses κύριος with reference to Christ with a dual purpose (both/and, not either/or): to indicate that Christ is within the being of YHWH (1 Cor. 8:6) and also to indicate that Christ is a distinct person from God the Father (as implied by the phrase the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ). Concerning the observation that Jesus acknowledges his Father as his God, this poses no problem given the Pauline understanding that, while Jesus was truly divine, he was also truly human. As noted previously under the discussion on Phil. 2:7, Paul evidently thinks that Christ had taken up true humanity. Paul also thinks of Christ as setting a human example for others to follow (Phil. 2:5, see also 1 Cor. 11:1). It can be argued that, for Paul, Jesus in his relationship with the Father set an example for others concerning their most important

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relationship of all, namely their relationship with God, hence the importance of stating Jesus’ acknowledgement of his Father as his God (this acknowledgement is also found in various passages in the Gospels; see Chapter 7). As for 1 Cor. 3:23, 1 Cor. 11:3 and 1 Cor. 15:24–28, these passages can be understood as speaking of the subordinate functional role that Christ chose with respect to God the Father. The idea of functional subordination can be inferred from Phil. 2:7–8, which, in the midst of statements implying Christ’s true divinity (Phil. 2:6 and 2:9–11, see Chapters 2 and 3), speaks of Christ freely choosing to make himself nothing and to be obedient to death. Just as a son choosing to be submissive to his parents does not imply that the son is less human than his parents, Christ choosing to be submissive to the Father does not imply that Christ was less divine than the Father. Hence, the sense of subordination in these texts does not take away from the sense of the divinity of Christ which is present in 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11. Against the ontological–functional distinction utilized by Fee (2007), Tilling (2012, 39–42) complains that there is an argumentative tension: He thinks that Fee’s claim that Paul affirms the divine ontological status of Christ is based on Christ’s roles and functions, in particular Christ sharing in divine purposes and activities such as creating all things, and that these functions implies the divine nature of the ‘being’ that underlies the function. However, when dealing with subordination texts, Tilling thinks that Fee’s argumentative strategy changes by strictly dividing function and being, and arguing that functional subordination does not imply ontological subordination. In reply to Tilling’s concerns, one can distinguish between valid and invalid ways of arguing from function to ontology. It is valid when a particular function can be performed only by a certain kind of being. For example, the function of creating all things cannot be performed by mere human or other creatures; it can only be performed by God the Creator, and as mentioned in Chapter  2 the Jewish monotheistic conception is that God used no other being to carry out his work of creation, but accomplished it alone (see Isa. 44:24) (Bauckham 1999, 37–39). On the other hand, arguing from function to ontology is invalid when it ignores the possibility that a certain kind of being can perform different functions; this possibility implies that in certain cases having different functions does not imply different kinds of being. For example, Paul states that human persons can choose to submit to other human persons (this is evident in

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passages such as Rom. 13:1–7), but they are all regarded by Paul to be truly human nonetheless. Likewise, a truly divine person (Christ) can choose to submit to another (God the Father), but they are both truly divine nonetheless. They have different roles and functions (one in authority, one in submission), but that does not imply they have different ontologies. In sum, Paul regarded Jesus as a truly divine person who is distinct but not separate from God the Father ontologically; they have the same ontological divine status, but the Son chooses to be functionally subordinated to the Father. 4.3

Concerning the Claim That Adoptionism/Exaltation Christology Was Present Earlier

Ehrman claims that there are two major ways in which a human could be divine: (1)

(2)

by adoption or exaltation:  a human being could be made divine by act of God, by being elevated to a level of divinity he/she did not previously have; by incarnation: a divine being could become human.

Ehrman thinks that the Gospel of Mark understands Jesus in the first way, while the Gospel of John understands Jesus in the second way. Both of them see Jesus as divine, but in different ways. Hence it is important to ask ‘In what sense did Christians think of Jesus as God?’ (Ehrman 2014, 8–9) On the first way, Ehrman objects to the use of Adoptionist nomenclature as he thinks that this gives the false impression of condescension. He argues that adoption does not imply a lower status, citing Peppard (2011)’s observation that Julius Caesar adopted Octavian but he had a higher status than Caesarion (Caesar’s son with Cleopatra). Thus he prefers to call the first way Exaltation Christology. Ehrman thinks that both Exaltation and Incarnation Christology can be found in the writings of Paul, and that Exaltation Christology is the earlier. He thinks Rom. 1:3–4 is quoting an ancient creed which contains Exaltation Christology, and that Acts 13:32 includes an older tradition which indicates that Jesus was made divine at the resurrection (Ehrman also cites Acts 2:36, 5:31). Ehrman proposes that there were other early Christians who think that Jesus was made divine at his baptism (citing Mark 1:9–11), while still other early Christians thought it was at Jesus’ conception (citing the Gospels of

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Luke and Matthew) (Ehrman 2014, ch.6). He argues that Exaltation Christology quickly morphed into Incarnation Christology as the early Christians thought ‘maybe Jesus was always divine?’ He proposes that Phil. 2:6–11 provides a transitional Christology that combines an exaltation view with an incarnation view. It should be noted, however, that by incarnation view Ehrman does not think that Christ was of the same ontological status as God the Father prior to incarnation (thus Ehrman’s view is different from that defended in Chapter 2), although he thinks it is a step in that direction. Rather, he argues that, although Christ was call God in Phil. 2:6, Christ was not yet equal to God the Father since the Father later exalted him in Phil. 2:9, and he thinks that the word ‘grasped’ in Phil. 2:6 also indicates that Christ does not yet have equality with God. He thinks that if Jesus were already God from the beginning surely the Synoptic Gospels would mention it at some point, but they did not (Ehrman 2014, ch.7). Dale Martin agrees with Ehrman, arguing that there are hints within the New Testament itself of Christians placing the adoption of a mere human Jesus to divine status at his birth, his baptism or his resurrection. He notes some ancient manuscripts of Luke 3:22 had the quotation from Ps. 2:7 as ‘You are my Son; today I have begotten you’, which was spoken by a voice from heaven after Jesus’ baptism. He suggests that other scribes later changed it because they knew those words could support the idea that Jesus had not been born the Son of God, but was only ‘adopted’ as God’s son at his baptism, and they thought this was heretical. Martin also argues that the term ‘chosen’ in Luke 9:35’s account of the transfiguration of Jesus could be taken to mean that Jesus was not the ‘begotten’ Son of God, but was ‘chosen’ by God at some point during his lifetime, and that there were later ‘orthodox’ scribes who changed ‘chosen’ to ‘beloved’ to make sure that people would not use this text to promote an Adoptionist Christology. Like Ehrman, also cites Acts 2:36, 13:32–33 and Rom. 1:4, and he argues that the word ‘declared’ in the NRSV translation of Rom. 1:4 (‘was declared to be Son of God …’) should be translated as ‘designated’ or ‘appointed’ (Martin 2012, 262–264; see also Knox 1967, 19). In reply to these objections, I shall first argue that there is insufficient evidence for thinking that Adoptionism was held among the earliest Christians. Rom. 1:3–4 states ‘the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared (Greek ὁρισθέντος) to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ

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our Lord’ (NRSV). On the basis of a high density of uncharacteristic Pauline words and expressions, the participial constructions, the presence of parallelisms and other reasons, many scholars have concluded that Paul is using pre-Pauline material which refers to Jesus as a historical individual descended from David (Jewett 2007, 97–108). However, the claim that this pre-Pauline material had undergone various stages of redaction has been sharply criticized (Bates 2015b). As for the key word ὁρισθέντος, this has been variously translated as ‘declared’ (NRSV), ‘marked out’ or ‘appointed’. Even if ὁρισθέντος is translated as ‘appointed’, as Martin insists, this can be understood as saying that the resurrection is the point where Jesus was appointed to take up certain functions of sonship. That is, at his resurrection Jesus entered upon a position or status or role which he had not previously enjoyed or exercised (Dunn 1998, 243). As Bates concludes in a well-argued article, ‘The christology displayed here affirms that, after his resurrection, Jesus, who was in fact the preexistent Son of God, was appointed to a new office described as “Son-of-God-inPower,” not adopted’ (Bates 2015b, 127). This interpretation indicates that there was functional enhancement of Christ’s role at the resurrection, an idea which is consistent with his functional subordination before his exaltation (cf. Phil. 2:7–9). This does not imply an ontological enhancement at the resurrection. That is, it does not imply that Christ did not have the nature of YHWH before his exaltation (as explained earlier, in certain cases different functions do not imply different kinds of being). As argued previously, Paul regarded Christ to be pre-existent and truly divine ontologically (1 Cor. 8:6; Phil. 2:6–11), but Christ chose to submit to God the Father (Phil. 2:7–8). This submission includes allowing God the Father the right to determine the role he should play, including the right to appoint him to function as ‘Son-of-God-in-Power’ in accordance with the Father’s timing (i.e. at Christ’s resurrection). Such a functional subordination and enhancement does not preclude the idea that Christ was ontologically truly divine all along. Other exegetical alternatives concerning Romans 1:4 and other texts cited by Ehrman have been proposed. For example, it has been taken as God ‘marking out’ and vindicating Jesus as Son of God through his resurrection;2 such an interpretation avoids the implication of Adoptionism. N. T. Wright argues that it should be understood as the resurrection unveiling what was there before, rather 2

I thank Professor Darrell Bock for suggesting this to me in private correspondence.

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than conferring or creating a new status or identity for Jesus (Wright 2013, 700). Wright also argues that the idea in Col. 1:18 of Christ’s becoming pre-eminent cannot be taken to imply that he was not a pre-eminent divine person before. The reason is because the poem in Col. 1:15–20 presupposes that between creation and redemption there has taken place the great rebellion whereby the world, created through and for Christ, comes to stand in need of reconciliation with (and recognition of) him as the pre-eminent one. Col. 1:18 therefore ‘envisages his becoming, in the resurrection, what by right of creation he already has, and what he had apparently lost through the usurpation of evil’ (Wright 1992a, 116–117). In any case, the point I wish to emphasize here is that the availability of the functional alternative implies that the conclusion of ontological enhancement cannot be straightforwardly inferred from the text. On the other hand, we have already seen in Chapter 2 that what Paul says in 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6 implies the affirmation that Christ was already truly divine prior to the existence of all things, and thus could not have been a creature who was adopted as divine. Ehrman’s interpretation of Phil. 2:6–11 has already been shown to be erroneous in Chapter 2. His proposal that Phil. 2:6–11 provides a transitional Christology is not only based on his erroneous interpretation, but is also contradicted by the fact that 1 Cor. 8:6 was written before Philippians, and already in 1 Cor. 8:6 we find Christ to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. Ehrman’s argument that, if Jesus was already God from the beginning surely the Synoptic Gospels would mention it at some point but they did not, is based on an invalid form of argument from silence (see Chapter 5). Peppard claims that Paul portrays divine sonship using adoptive imagery. He thinks it is not likely that Gal. 4:4 (‘But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law’) implies the pre-existence of Jesus Christ as God’s son. He asserts that ‘Throughout his writings, Paul is not concerned with proclaiming that God sent Jesus to be incarnated and born, but rather to be crucified and resurrected. God sent him to Golgotha  – not Bethlehem’ (Peppard 2011, 135–138). Peppard’s writing is strong on rhetorical flourishes, but he neglects passages such as 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–7, which imply that Christ was already truly divine prior to being born of a woman, indeed prior to the creation of all things (see Chapter 2). As for Acts 2:36, ‘Therefore let the entire house of Israel know (γινωσκέτω) with certainty (ἀσφαλῶς) that God has made (ἐποίησεν)

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him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified’ (NRSV), New Testament scholar C.  K. Rowe notes that Jesus is already regarded as Lord and Christ from the very beginning of Luke-Acts (Luke 1:43; 2:11) (Rowe 2007, 37). He also notes the use of the word ἐποίησεν within the Lukan corpus itself particularly in Luke 1:51, where, ‘in the context of God’s fulfilment of his promises, the word means something like “shown” – so, rightly, the NRSV, KJV et al.’ (Rowe 2007, 55 n.65). In light of the context of Luke-Acts where Jesus is already regarded as Lord and Christ from the very beginning, Acts 2:36 should not be understood as an ontological transformation of Jesus. Rather, it should be understood as the actions of God in showing the house of Israel that Jesus is Lord and Messiah through raising Jesus from the dead; such an ‘epistemological shift in the perception of the human community’ is the point of γινωσκέτω (‘know’) and ἀσφαλῶς (‘with certainty’) (cf. Luke 1:4) (Rowe 2007, 54–55). As for passages that speak of Jesus being begotten ‘today’ (Acts 13:33; Heb. 1:5; 5:5), these quote from Ps. 2:7 and speak about the resurrection and exaltation of Christ. Psalm 2 is an inauguration psalm for the Israelite kings, and it functions as a declaration of the beginning of their exercise of their kingship. At this time, most kings were already adults; they were not born at their inauguration. Thus it is clear that the use of the term ‘begotten’ in this passage is not connected with anything sexual or ontological, but has a metaphorical and functional meaning which signifies a new beginning. This metaphorical and functional usage carries over into the New Testament authors’ usage for Jesus as well, both with reference to Jesus’ resurrection and also to the allusion of Ps. 2:7 at his baptism. Arguing that Jewish kings were regarded as sons of God by adoption in texts such as Ps. 2:7, Peppard thinks that the adoptive sonship of Israelite kings should be seen as a background to understand the narrative characterization of Jesus’ divine sonship (Peppard 2011, 105–106). However, Peppard fails to consider the use of Ps. 2:7 in Acts 13:33 in light of the broader context of Luke-Acts. As Keener observes In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is already Son (Luke 1:35; cf. 1:32, though it is future; 22:70), and the Father announces Jesus’s sonship in language echoing Ps. 2 (Luke 3:22; cf. 9:35; acknowledged by demons, cf. 4:3, 9, 41; 8:28). Luke is not, then, ‘adoptionist’ in associating Jesus’s sonship with the resurrection, as if Jesus became God’s Son only at the

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In other words, according to the Gospels’ portrayal, at Jesus’ baptism God declared the beginning of certain aspects of the exercise of his kingship, such that after the baptism even the demons acknowledged his authority. Subsequently, at Jesus’ resurrection this exercise of kingship reached an even higher level (having overcome death and never to die again; see Acts 13:34) and is ‘made known to humanity in a special way’ (to use Keener’s phrase). Given that Luke-Acts portrays that Jesus was already the Son of God prior to his resurrection, the phrase ‘You are my Son; today I have begotten you’ which is used to refer to Jesus’ resurrection in Acts 13:33 should not be understood as the adoptive beginning of Jesus’ divine sonship. Rather it should be understood as a declaration of the beginning of a higher level of exercise of kingship that is known in a special way.3 Hence, contrary to Peppard, it is this aspect of declaration of beginning, rather than adoption, which is the point of similarity with the use of Psalm 2 for Jewish kings. For his reading of Mark 1:9–11 Ehrman cites Peppard (2011, 86–131), who argues that reading the baptism of Jesus through the lens of pagan Roman imperial ideology encourages one to understand the divine voice (‘You are My beloved Son, in You I  am well-pleased’ Mark 1:11) as an adoption of Jesus as a divine son. Peppard contends that the ‘low Christology’ connotations of such an adoption are a mis-construal of ancient evidence, which shows that the adoption of someone as a son should not place that adopted son in a lower status than the biological children. Peppard also notes that

3 Bates (2015a, 72–74) suggests an alternative interpretation that Paul is not portrayed in Acts 13:33 as citing Ps 2:7 in support of the notion that Jesus was raised and/ or adopted, but rather as specific evidence that what God promised our fathers he has fulfilled for the children (vv.32–33). Concerning this passage as well as Jesus’ baptism (Luke 3:22), he thinks that Ps. 2:7 was most likely interpreted by the author not as an Adoptionist direct speech, but as a theodramatic reported speech, harking back to an earlier pre-existent setting in which the Father had previously said to him ‘You are my Son’ (Bates 2015a, 162–163), implying that Jesus thought of himself as pre-existent (see also his discussion of the Synoptic Jesus’ use of Ps. 110:1 in Mark 12:35–7: Bates 2015a, 44–60). Assessing this alternative interpretation strategy along with its fascinating, complicated and controversial historical and theological assumptions (see Bates 2015a, ch.7) is beyond the scope of this book and would require another.

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John’s baptism was for the forgiveness of sins (Mark 1:4, 9) and complains that most commentators nevertheless agree that Jesus’ baptism was not for repentance and forgiveness of sins (Peppard 2011, 96). Chilton is a rare exception; he claims that Jesus’ acceptance of this baptism implies that Jesus regarded himself as a sinner who needed repentance, and he speculates that Jesus ‘repented of the anger he had felt, of his resentment against his own people in Nazareth’ (Chilton 2000, 49). Chilton’s view would fit well with certain Adoptionists’ view that Jesus was not divine prior to the baptism. However, commentators who agree that Jesus’ baptism was not for repentance and forgiveness of sins have pointed out that the portraits of John the Baptist according to Matthew, Mark and Luke all include citations of Isaiah the prophet. Bock argues that in the eschatological context of deliverance which Isaiah evokes, this forgiveness refers not merely to a personal cleansing, but to a corporate preparation by people for the approach of God’s way. Therefore, it could be the case that Jesus’ acceptance of John’s baptism is a response to a need to identify with John’s ministry and call to the nation before he goes out to complete what John had started. Jesus’ connection to Israel as a whole compelled him to respond to John’s call and to the nation’s need for preparatory cleansing (Bock 2002, 87; Bock argues that the response to such a need is what the phrase ‘fulfill all righteousness’ in Matt. 3:15 seems to be suggesting). Or, as others have explained, Jesus was in such solidarity with his brethren that he could identify with the people of Israel and their need for repentance and forgiveness and what they needed to do, as well as to represent them and repent on their behalf (Macquarrie 1998, 28–29; Swinburne 2003, 109–111; Kvalbein 2008, 57). This identification with Israel was completed on the cross (Gunton 2003, 131; see the discussion on Mark 15:34 in Chapter 7). Concerning Peppard’s exegesis of Mark 1:9–11, Bates complains that Peppard downplays the Old Testament background to the words spoken by God during Jesus’ baptism, noting that there is indisputable evidence that Mark frequently draws upon OT sources and imagery (Bates 2015a, 78 n.72; see Watts 2007). Hurtado points out that Peppard did not pay sufficient attention to the strict monotheistic background of the earliest Christians which indicates a rejection of pagan influence (e.g. 1 Thess. 1:9–10, 1 Cor. 8 and 10). He also complains that Peppard neglects the emphasis of this Jewish biblical tradition in the Gospel of Mark (e.g. the presence of Moses and Elijah in Mark 9:2–10; and Jesus saying the Shema

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and emphasizing the oneness of God in Mark 12:29–30), as well as the evidences (which he and others have presented) that Jesus was regarded as truly divine by the earliest Christians (Hurtado 2014b; see also Chapter 2). Unlike the Roman emperor who was given cultic honours by people who freely gave cultic honours to all sorts of creatures, the early Christians thought that worship should be given to God the Creator only (as noted in Chapter 3). Thus, as Hurtado concludes, it is more likely that the reader of the Gospel of Mark oriented by the Shema would have understood the text through a biblical monotheistic lens rather than the Roman pagan lens of adopting the emperor as divine son. As for possible resonance with first-century Roman audiences, Hurtado observes that the affirmation of Jesus as God’s Son sets up a tension with the claims of the Roman emperor (Hurtado 2014b). One can affirm resonances such as these without requiring the postulation of adoption. The latter is highly problematic because, with regard to the ‘low Christology’ connotation, the adoption advocated by Peppard would imply that Jesus is on the creature side of the Creator–creature divide. Such a Christology would be significantly lower than the highest Christology present among the earliest Christians, as indicated by 1 Cor. 8:6, etc. (see Chapter  2). If this text in Mark were indeed understood by its immediate first-century audience as conveying this kind of lower Christology, there would have been traces of discussion and debate concerning this Christology in the first century, but there was none (see further the discussion in Chapter 5). It is highly significant that the earliest unambiguous evidence that Jesus was regarded as adopted son pertains to Theodotus in the late second century (Bates 2015a, 78 n.72). Peppard asks ‘But if the voice is directed privately to Jesus, and Jesus already was the Son of God, and already knew that he was, then why did the scene happen at all?’ (Peppard 2011, 97). In reply, the voice ‘You are my Son, the Beloved …’ can be understood as a portrayal of the expression of intimate relationship between the Father and Son, rather than as informing Jesus about what he did not already know. The text does not say ‘You have just become my Son’, and there is also no indication in the Gospels that Jesus began to think of himself as the Son of God only at his baptism. Citing the adoption of David as God’s son and God saying ‘He shall cry to me, “You are my Father, my God, and the Rock of my salvation! I will make him the firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth” ’ in Ps 89:26–27 (NRSV), Peppard argues that Paul referring

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to Jesus Christ as the firstborn (πρωτότοκον) of many brothers in Rom. 8:29 implies that Jesus was likewise adopted (Peppard 2011, 139–40). However, on the one hand, the fact that David and Jesus are both called firstborn does not mean that both are adopted. As noted previously, when used of Christ ‘firstborn’ can be understood a metaphor for pre-eminence, and in Rom. 8:29 it could simply mean ‘pre-eminent’ without adoption. One can be made ‘firstborn’ through adoption, but that does not mean that being firstborn implies being adopted. Rom. 8:29 does not speak of God adopting Jesus as son but rather God making those whom he foreknew to conform to the image of Jesus; in this way Jesus is pre-eminent. On the other hand, it is significant that, while God’s people are explicitly said to be adopted in a number of texts (e.g. Rom. 8:15, 23; 9:4; Gal. 4:5), such is never said of Jesus Christ; this is further evidence against Peppard’s thesis that adoption is an important christological category in earliest Christianity (Bates 2015a, 78 n.73). As for Martin’s arguments, his suggestion that Luke 3:22 and 9:35 were possibly changed by other scribes does not prove that the author of Luke had intended to convey Adoptionism. The reason is because, even if these were changed, ‘begotten’ and ‘chosen’ can be understood functionally as explained earlier. It can be argued that Luke did not intend to convey Adoptionism, but certain scribes were concerned that those words might be misunderstood as supporting Adoptionism, so they changed it. In sum, the arguments which have been offered for thinking that Adoptionism was held among the earliest Christians are unconvincing. On the other hand, concerning the exaltation mentioned in Phil. 2:9, it has been explained in Chapter  2 that 1 Cor. 8:6 (which was written before Philippians) implies the pre-existent inclusion of Christ within YHWH even before the creation of all things. This contradicts the idea that Christ was originally merely a human or a lesser divine being who was later exalted to true divinity. Additionally, from the previous analysis of Phil. 2:6–11, it can be concluded that Paul affirms Christ to be within the being of YHWH, and that Christ is a different person from God the Father. The inclusion of Christ within the being of YHWH would imply his pre-existence  – indeed, his eternal existence within the being of YHWH. For (as noted in Chapter  2) if it were the case that a non-divine person (i.e. Jesus) became truly divine at some point in time, or if it were the case that the existence of a truly divine person

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had a beginning, then this would contradict the deepest logic of Jewish monotheism that Paul evidently holds (Yeago 1997, 91–92). Likewise, Wright argues If Jesus is not one-for-one identical with the Father, and if Paul is still a monotheist, then the assertions of 2:9–11 must mean that Jesus – or, more accurately, the one who became Jesus – must have been from all eternity ‘equal with God’ in the sense of being himself fully divine. When, therefore, we find in this same passage a statement which both appears to assert this on other grounds … and must mean this if the logic of the passage is to work, we have every reason to conclude that the statement in question  – Philippians 2:6–7  – refers to the choice made by the pre-existent one (whom we now know by his human name, Jesus) to be obedient to the saving purposes of the Father by becoming human and dying on a cross. (Wright 1992a, 94–95) The eternal existence of Christ within the being of YHWH would imply that the hyper-exaltation (ὑπερύψωσεν) of Phil. 2:9 should not be read as an attainment of divine nature not already possessed in Phil. 2:6. In the context of this passage it can be taken as emphasizing the ‘superlative’ (i.e. God has exalted Christ to the highest possible degree in terms of the role he was given after the crucifixion), rather than stating the ‘comparative’ (i.e. God has made Christ a higher being than he was before).4 In other words, it should be understood as an enhancement of function following his functional subordination at the crucifixion (Phil. 2:8), rather than as an enhancement of ontology. While the granting of the divine name in Philippians is said to have taken place after Jesus’ death on the cross, this does not imply that Jesus was not divine previously (an understanding which would contradict what Paul says in 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6, taken together). Rather, it can be interpreted as God making known to creation what has been true eternally (Fowl 2005, 104–105).5 Ehrman asks if Christ 4 See Fee (2007, 395–396, n.89) for the superlative/comparative distinction. He notes, however, that there might be a sense that Christ has assumed a ‘new role’ (e.g. as a sympathetic high priest who knows our suffering from the inside out). 5 Concerning διὸ καὶ (‘therefore also’) in Phil. 2:9, North comments that while Paul does speak of every knee bowing at the name of Jesus, this follows self-emptying, obedience and crucifixion; it is not the corollary of deity (North 2004, 187 n.4). Fee’s explanation, however, is better: ‘With an inferential “therefore also”, Paul thus draws the preceding narrative to its proper conclusion, offering the divine vindication of Christ’s emptying himself and humbling himself in obedience by dying on a cross. As

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was equal in ontological status with God the Father why was there a need to exalt him (Phil. 2:9) (Ehrman 2014, 263). The answer is straightforward: because Jesus was said to have humbled himself on the cross. 4.4

Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Regarded as Functionally Divine but Not Ontologically Divine

A number of objectors to the view that the earliest Christians held a high Christology (e.g. Dunn 1998, 251–254) make the following move. Instead of understanding the Pauline statements (e.g. Phil. 2:9–11) which affirm that Christ exercised certain divine prerogatives (e.g. ruling over creation) as implying his divinity, they argue that these statements merely imply that God has decided to share these prerogatives with Christ (e.g. God has appointed Christ to rule other people on his behalf). Thus, they concluded that Christ was regarded by the earliest Christians as functionally divine but not ontologically divine. Now it has been demonstrated previously that such a move encounters serious difficulties, because 1 Cor. 8:6, Phil. 2:6–11 and Paul’s worship of Christ imply not just functional divinity but also ontological divinity of Jesus. More seriously, with regard to the argument from spiritual desire mentioned in Chapter 2, it is inconceivable that monotheist Jews such as Paul could have thought that God chose a non-divine agent (say, Christ), such that the desire for fellowship with God could be satisfied by fellowshipping with that agent. The reason why this is inconceivable is because it is God himself whom the pious Jews of the Old Testament are said to be pursuing and, as noted above, it can be inferred that such an attitude was what Paul possessed. Similarly, it cannot be argued that Paul intended to convey that his desire for Jesus is parallel to the Old Testament Jews’ desire for God, while asserting that they are separate beings. The reason is because Paul would have maintained the Old Testament Jews’ desire for God alone, in which case Jesus cannot be conceived of as a being separate from God for whom Paul had parallel desire for. The best explanation for why Paul had such an all-consuming desire to fellowship with Christ is that Paul regarded Christ as truly divine. God’s “yes” to this expression of “equality with God”, God the Father exalted him to the highest place’ (Fee 2007, 395).

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4.5

Concerning the Claim That Jesus Was Merely Venerated, Not Worshipped

Against the idea that Jesus was worshipped in earliest Christian groups, Dunn argues that some of the terms of worship and thanksgiving which Paul uses are addressed to God and never to Christ or ‘the Lord’. Dunn therefore thinks that the evidences cited by Hurtado suggest the veneration of Christ (akin to the veneration that some Christian traditions [Catholic, Orthodox] give to Mary, the mother of Jesus, and the saints), meaning something short of full-scale worship and the adoration reserved for God alone (Dunn 1988, 258–260; 2010, 7–28). Hurtado replies that Dunn’s objections do not take away the force of the argument that in Pauline congregations Jesus was given the unprecedented sort of devotion that was otherwise reserved for God in Jewish groups. While Jews characteristically distinguished their reverence for God as full worship by not including another figure with God in their devotional pattern, in early Christian groups reverence for God characteristically demanded a programmatic inclusion of Jesus with God in their devotional life. As far as seeking a historical explanation for this phenomenon is concerned, Dunn’s suggestion concerning the distinction between worship and veneration is an irrelevant anachronism, as there is no indication of such a conceptual distinction in the Jewish matrix of earliest Christian groups (Hurtado 1988, xiii, xiv). I shall add the following observations in addition to Hurtado’s arguments. (1)

The concept of veneration does not adequately account for the acknowledgement of Christ as within the being of YHWH and involved in the work of creating all things (see the discussion on 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6–11 above). Neither does it adequately account for practices such as ἐπικαλέω (‘to call upon’) which are used with reference to the invocation of YHWH. The veneration that some Christian traditions (Catholic, Orthodox) give to Mary and the saints does not include the acknowledgement of any of them to be involved in the work of creating all things, to be within the being of YHWH, to be worthy of the invocation directed to YHWH, etc. Only the concept of worship adequately accounts for these practices.

Sacrifice Is Never Said to Be Offered to Christ (2)

(3)

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It can also be argued that Paul’s usage of certain worship terms for God the Father and not for Christ can be seen as Paul’s way of distinguishing the person of God the Father from the person of Christ whom (as shown by the six practices explained previously) they also worshipped. It can be argued that the absence of using certain worship terms for Christ is only to be expected if the worship of Christ had indeed occurred as a recent phenomenon for these earliest Christians. The reason is because a certain amount of time would have been required for their Jewish monotheist leaders to adjust their language to reflect the worship which they had come to realize Jesus was worthy of. While the earliest Christian writings certainly do not encourage the worship of Jesus to the neglect of God the Father, a point which Dunn emphasizes, this should not detract from the conclusion that Jesus was indeed worshipped alongside God the Father within earliest Christianity. Concerning the Claim That Sacrifice Is Never Said in the New Testament to Be Offered to Christ

Against this significance of worship, Lionel North argues that the word προσκυνέω is not asserted by the New Testament authors as an act that should be reserved exclusively to God. He claims that sacrifice, an act which he differentiates from worship (cf. 2 Kings 17:35–36), is the most focused of the traditional criteria applied in the determination of divinity, and it is never said in the New Testament to be offered to Christ but only to God (North 2004, 186–203). In reply, while sacrifice is never explicitly said in the New Testament to be offered to Christ, yet it can be argued that similar ideas can be found. For example, while Paul urges believers in Rom. 12:1 to offer their bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God, he states elsewhere that the purpose of the body is for the Lord Jesus (1 Cor. 6:13), and one should live in undistracted and total devotion to the Lord Jesus in both body and spirit (1 Cor. 7:34–35), and make it their aim to please him (2 Cor. 5:9). It seems that the idea is very close to urging believers to offer bodies as living sacrifices to Christ, even though the exact terms are not used. In any case, the argument that sacrifice is never said in the New Testament to be offered to Christ but to God does not necessarily

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imply that the authors do not regard Jesus as truly divine. Rather, as Dunn points out, We should recall that Paul saw the death of Jesus as an act of God:  God put Christ forward as a sacrifice of atonement (Rom. 3:25) … The logic seems to run counter to the rationale of sacrifice as offered to God. God was involved in the sacrifice itself and in the offering of the sacrifice, as well as the receiving of the sacrifice. So if God is on both sides of the transaction, presumably we should not press a strict subject-object antithesis in considering to whom the sacrifice of Christ was offered. Perhaps if God was on both sides of the sacrifice of Christ, so also Jesus was somehow on both sides – not as the one to whom sacrifice was offered in the death of Christ, but as bound up with the receiving of God just as much as God was bound up in the giving of Christ as sacrifice. (Dunn 2010, 56) In addition to Dunn’s arguments, it can be argued that, as with Paul’s usage of certain worship terms for God and not for Christ (see Section 4.5), the absence of referring the exact terms of some cultic practices (e.g. sacrifices) to Christ is only to be expected at the earliest stage of devotion to Christ. The reason is because a certain amount of time would have been required for Christian Jewish monotheists to adjust their reference of cultic practices to reflect the recognition of true divinity which they had come to realize Jesus was worthy of. The argument by North concerning προσκυνέω can be explained by the observation that the word προσκυνέω can be used to indicate actions that are not restricted to the kind of cultic worship which Paul would render to God alone (cf. Ehrman 2014, who argues that Matt 18:26 indicates that kings are worshipped; in response, the προσκυνέω in Matt 18:26 may just mean a non-worship form of falling prostrate). As Bauckham notes, προσκυνέω could be used to indicate a non-worship form of bowing down to acknowledge a human or angelic superior and that the context determined its meaning: προσκυνέω became unacceptable to Jews in contexts that gave it idolatrous overtones (cf. Acts 10:25–26) (Bauckham 1998, 134–135). Hence, North’s argument does not prove that Paul and other New Testament authors would have approved of the cultic worship of entities other than God. On the contrary, as argued in Chapter  3, other evidences indicate that the attitude that worship should be exclusively directed to the one Creator God is evidently possessed

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by the early Christians such as Paul. Hence their worship of Jesus indicates that they regarded Jesus to be within the being of God the Creator.

4.7

Conclusion

In Chapters 3 and 4, I have assessed the objections which have been raised against the conclusion that highest Christology was found among the earliest Christians. (1)

(2)

Concerning the presence of various exalted figures in Second Temple Judaism, I  highlighted the importance of the Creator–creature divide in earliest Christianity, and argued that the premise that Jesus was regarded as truly divine in earliest Christianity is based on what was taught in earliest Christianity concerning worship and divinity, not on what each and every other Jew may have thought. Moreover, Jewish exalted figures (Enoch, etc.) were not acknowledged to be involved in the creation of all things (contrast the acknowledgement of Jesus in 1 Cor. 8:6 discussed in Chapter  2) nor pre-existent in the μορφῇ of God (contrast Phil. 2:6). Additionally, as Hurtado et al. have argued, the worship of Jesus in earliest Christianity are the actual practices of adherents of a known religious movement, and they function as identifying marks of their devotional life; by contrast, speculations concerning the worship of exalted figures in Judaism merely appear as literary phenomena. Finally, Tilling has argued that the relational data in Paul’s epistles concerning believers and Jesus corresponds, as a pattern, only to the language concerning believers and YHWH (and not believers and Jewish exalted figures) in Second Temple Judaism. Concerning Vermès’s objection that according to Acts the earliest Christians did not worship Jesus, I  argue that according to Luke-Acts the worship of Jesus had already begun (Luke 24:52) even before the Pentecost, that according to Acts 3–4; 5:12–42, 6:8–15; 9:14, 21 Jesus’ name was used liturgically by the earliest Christians, and that the baptismal phrase ‘In the name of Jesus Christ’ (Acts 2:38; 8:16; 10:48; 19:5) indicates that the participants regarded Jesus as truly divine.

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(3)

Concerning the distinction between Jesus and God, I argue that ‘God’ can be used to denote any person (e.g. God the Father) who has the property of being truly divine. This would be consistent with the idea that Christ and the Father are distinct persons and that both of them are within the being of YHWH, an idea which is indicated by 1 Cor. 8:6 as argued in Chapter 2. Concerning the apparent subordination of Jesus to God the Father, this can be understood from the Pauline perspective that the truly divine Christ had taken up true humanity and set an example for others to follow (Phil. 2:5–7). Using the ontological–functional distinction explained in Chapter  1, I  have argued that the sense of subordination of Jesus to God in Pauline texts such as 1 Cor. 3:23, 1 Cor. 11:3 and 1 Cor. 15:24–28 can be understood as speaking of the subordinate functional role that Christ chose with respect to God the Father. In reply to Tilling’s objections, I have distinguished between valid and invalid ways of arguing from function to ontology:  It is valid when the function can be performed only by a kind of being, but invalid when it ignores the possibility that a certain kind of being can perform different functions. Concerning the objection that there were traces of Adoptionism in early Christianity, I have argued that passages such as Rom. 1:3–4 can be understood as indicating that there was functional enhancement of Christ’s role at the resurrection (in harmony with his functional subordination before his exaltation). This does not imply an ontological enhancement at the resurrection. That is, it does not necessarily imply that Christ did not have the nature of YHWH before his exaltation. We have already seen that what Paul says in 1 Cor. 8:6 and Phil. 2:6 imply the affirmation that Christ was already truly divine prior to the existence of all things. Concerning the claim that Jesus was regarded as functionally divine but not ontologically divine, I have argued that this suggestion does not fit with 1 Cor. 8:6, Phil. 2:6–11, Paul’s worship of Christ and, most importantly, the earliest Christians’ spiritual desire for Christ explained in Chapter 2.

(4)

(5)

Conclusion (6) and (7)

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Concerning the objection that Jesus was merely venerated and not worshipped, I have argued that the concept of veneration does not adequately account for the acknowledgement of Christ as involved in the work of creating all things (e.g. 1 Cor. 8:6). While sacrifice is never explicitly said in the New Testament to be offered to Christ, I have argued that similar ideas can be found (e.g. 1 Cor. 6:13, 7:34–35; 2 Cor. 5:9). In addition, the absence of using certain worship terms for Christ and the absence of explicit reference of some cultic practices (e.g. sacrifices) to Christ is only to be expected at the earliest stage of devotion to Christ. This is because a certain amount of time would have been required for Christian Jewish monotheists to adjust their reference of cultic practices to reflect the recognition of true divinity which they had come to realize Jesus was worthy of.

Hence, while many objections have been raised, they fail to overturn the conclusion, established in Chapter  2, that there are good reasons for thinking that highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians. But how extensive was this conviction in earliest Christianity? How widely was it held? We shall explore this in Chapter 5.

5 THE EXTENT OF HIGHEST CHRISTOLOGY IN EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY

5.1

Introduction

In the previous three chapters, we have seen that there are evidences for thinking that Jesus was regarded as truly divine among the earliest Christians, and that the objections to this conclusion are inadequate. But how widespread was this highest Christology in earliest Christianity? Since Walter Bauer’s influential work on ‘orthodoxy’ and ‘heresy’ (Bauer 1971; 1st German edition 1934), many scholars have emphasized the element of diversity in early Christianity. For example, building on the earlier work by Bauer, Robinson and Koester (1971) have proposed a ‘trajectories’ model of early Christian developments, according to which there were multiple versions of the Christian movement right from the outset. Applying this diversity to Christology, it has been claimed by Ehrman that the view of Jesus as divine did not develop in every early Christian community at the same time or in the same way. Ehrman argues that for centuries there continued to be some communities that did not hold to this view, such as the Ebionites. In some communities, the view came into being remarkably early (evidently in Paul’s). In others, there is no evidence that it happened at all (Matthew’s or Mark’s). In others, it took several decades (John’s) (Ehrman 2009, 254). Likewise, Dale Martin claims that, while there is undisputed recognition by the earliest Christians that Jesus was a prophet, the earliest Christians have different views about whether Jesus was merely a man, or whether he was divine in some way, and if so, whether he became divine at some point (Adoptionism), or whether Jesus always was divine, and if so, whether was he fully human (Martin 2012, 264–265). In what follows, I shall first discuss the reasons for thinking that the conviction that Jesus was truly divine was widespread and persistent 100

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among the earliest Christians. I  shall then reply to the objections which have been raised by Ehrman and Martin. 5.2

The Argument for Widespread Extent

It has been noted in Chapter  2 that Paul’s letters were addressed to Christian circles already established in AD 50s; they incorporated Christian traditions of belief and practices from still earlier years; Paul’s associations with Christian circles included important Jewish-Christian figures such as Peter, James and Barnabas; and his acquaintance with the beliefs and practices of Christian circles was both wide and extremely early (Hurtado 2003, 85–86). Hurtado also points out that, although Paul evinced concern in his epistles to maintain links with the Jerusalem church, he did not hesitate to disagree with these Christians on important matters, such as that concerning the terms of conversion of Gentile Christians and Paul’s own apostolic legitimacy and authority (Hurtado 2003, 97, 112, 166). Various evidences indicate that the earliest Christians did not shy away from disagreements with one another (including disagreements with influential leaders) in matters of theological importance. For example, even an apostle as highly respected as Peter was questioned by those who were circumcised (as portrayed in Acts 11:2) and challenged by Paul (Gal. 2:11–14) concerning issues related to the acceptance of the Gentiles. Other forms of ‘gospel’ were condemned (Gal. 1:6–10), and traces of disagreements and discussions concerning diverse issues like circumcision, the propriety and rules governing Jew and Gentile eating together, works of the law, etc., can be found in the earliest Christian documents (Wright 1992b, 453–455; Hengel et al. 1999, 59–62; Dunn 2008, 416–494). Thus, we have good reason to expect Paul to have responded in his epistles to any serious challenges to the fundamentally important christological matters concerning the person of Jesus, his status and the worship given to him, which he advocated in his churches. Yet, it is extremely significant that there is a conspicuous lack of evidence of such disagreements in his epistles; indeed, in all cases Paul shows no need to explain or justify the christological contents of his teachings (Hurtado 2003, 112, 166). It might be objected that Paul’s reference to someone preaching ‘another Jesus’ in 2 Cor. 11:4 (‘For if someone comes and proclaims another Jesus than the one we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit from the one you received, or a different gospel from the one

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you accepted, you submit to it readily enough’ NRSV) suggests that there was controversy about the status of Christ among the earliest Christians. However, based on the context of this verse, the christological controversy reflected in this verse was of another sort. Thrall observes that the reference to Christ in 2 Cor. 11:1–3 would underlie the importance of the christological issue, but there is no evidence to suggest that the disagreement concerns the status of Christ (e.g. as in whether he should be regarded as truly divine or not). Rather it is the character of Jesus as setting the norm for Christian existence that is at stake (Thrall 2000, 669). Martin explains this point well when he writes that the reason for Paul’s virulent indignation is that the alien ‘Jesus–Spirit–Gospel’ triad mentioned in 2 Cor. 11:4 is a wrong-headed perception of the Christian kerygma as Paul understood it, for it proclaims a Christ that is ‘according to the flesh’ (2 Cor. 5:16). This means that the power on display is self-centred and contradicts Paul’s message of the cross and of the Christ who did not please himself (Rom. 15:3) (Martin 1986, 341–342). Hurtado argues that, judging by the argument that precedes and follows this verse, the charge of preaching another Jesus is directed against visitors to Corinth who denigrated Paul as weak and unimpressive (2 Cor. 10:1–11; 12:11–12; 13:1–4), and who emphasized manifestations of spiritual power (e.g. in miracles) as authenticating signs of their own spiritual authority (Hurtado 2003, 164). One might question why the Corinthians would be represented as ‘tolerating’ (2 Cor. 11:4) the message of the visiting missionaries, since the proclamation of a glorious Christ would have been highly congenial to them and not something that requires toleration (Thrall 2000, 668–669). In reply, it could be the case that the opponents are itinerant preachers from Palestine who put emphasis on their financial dependence on the community in Corinth, and so they are to be ‘tolerated’ for seeking the Corinthians’ money (Theissen 1982, 44–54). Thus, regarding 2 Cor. 11:4, there is evidence to suggest that there was controversy concerning how the character of Christ was to be understood, but there is no evidence to suggest that it concerned the status of Christ. It is significant that in this passage as elsewhere, Paul saw no need to reiterate and defend beliefs in Jesus’ status (Hurtado 2003, 164). Therefore, the point remains that there is a conspicuous lack of evidence of disagreements in his epistles concerning the person of Jesus and his divinity. Paul can express his highest Christology view in 1 Cor. 8:6 (see Chapter 2) and prefaced ‘there is one God … one Lord’ with the words ‘for us’, implying that this is the accepted

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and authoritative view, without having to defend it at all. Capes makes the important observation that we never find Paul arguing for any christological conviction; we always find him arguing from it towards some ethical, ecclesial or theological point (Capes 2008, 135). 5.3

Is There Absence of Jewish Objection to Paul’s Divine Christology?

The lack of evidence of objections to Paul’s Christology in Paul’s epistles has been turned into an argument against the view that Paul regarded Jesus as truly divine by Dunn. Dunn thinks that such a devotion to Jesus would have been seen by unbelieving Jews as blasphemous and provoked their intense persecution of Christians. While Hurtado argues that this was what actually happened (Hurtado 2005, 152–178), Dunn objects that the evidences cited by Hurtado are unconvincing. Dunn writes When Jewish hostility to Paul’s attitude to the law, albeit reflected through the Jewish believers, is so clear, it would be indeed odd, if there was a more serious objection to his Christology (beyond that implied by 1 Cor. 1:23 and Gal. 3:13), that it was not also reflected in some equivalent to 1 Cor. 1:23. (Dunn 2008, 339–340, 580) Two types of the ‘Jewish hostility’ should be distinguished:  hostility from Jewish Christians (including the ‘more traditionalist believing Jews’, whom the author of Acts describes as ‘all zealous for the law’ [Acts 21:20]) (Dunn 2008, 579)  and hostility from Jewish non-Christians. The absence of hostility from the traditionalist Jewish Christians concerning Paul’s worship of Christ will be discussed below and in Chapter 6. Concerning the absence of hostility from the traditionalist Jewish non-Christians, Dunn’s argument can be summarized as follows: There is evidence in the Pauline epistles that Christians were persecuted by non-Christian Jews in Paul’s time (e.g. 2 Cor. 11:23–26; 1 Thess. 2:14–16) because of their preaching of a crucified Messiah (1 Cor. 1:23; Gal. 6:12), and because of the Pauline Gentile mission in regard to the law and the ancestral traditions which he used to be zealous about (Gal. 1:13–14; cf. Phil. 3:6) (Dunn 2010, 114). There is also evidence in John’s Gospel that non-Christian Jews reacted violently to the assertion of Christ’s divinity. Dunn argues, however, that there is no evidence in the Pauline epistles that the earliest Christians

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were persecuted by non-Christian Jews because of their worship of Christ. Based on this, Dunn concludes that there was no persecution of the earliest Christians by non-Christian Jews because of their worship of Christ, which is unlikely the case if these Christians worshipped Jesus (Dunn 1991). In response, first, the important question to ask is what connotation the word ‘Christ’ in the phrase ‘Christ crucified’ in 1 Cor. 1:23 (cited by Dunn) has for the audience of 1 Corinthians. It has been argued previously in Chapter 2 that, in the same epistle, the ‘Christ’ who was crucified was regarded as truly divine, as indicated by 1 Cor. 8:6, ‘For us there is one God, the Father … and one Lord, Jesus Christ …’, and by the phrase ‘all those who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ in 1 Cor. 1:2. Thus, it is arguable that Paul’s mentioning of the Jewish opposition to his preaching of ‘Christ crucified’ actually carries an implicit hint of Jewish opposition to highest Christology (compare Hengel’s observation that ‘a crucified God was for every educated person in antiquity a shameless impertinence; indeed, an absurdity’ [Hengel 1995, 383]). Second, even if ‘Christ’ is used in 1 Cor. 1:23 with no connotation of divinity for the audience of 1 Corinthians (despite the mentioning of ‘Christ’ in 1 Cor. 1:2 and 8:6), it should be noted that Dunn’s argument is essentially an argument from silence, and that argument from silence only works when there is compelling reason to think that the silence would have been broken if the conclusion were otherwise. As the adage goes, absence of evidence is not always evidence for absence. For example, imagine someone constructing an argument that is structurally parallel to Dunn’s, this time with respect to Paul’s knowledge of Jesus’ disciples: There are evidences in the Pauline epistles that Paul knew certain things about the Twelve (e.g. 1 Cor. 15:5). There are evidences in the four Gospels that Thomas was one of the Twelve. However, there is no specific evidence in the Pauline epistles that Paul knew that Thomas was one of the Twelve. Therefore, Paul did not know that Thomas was one of the Twelve. One would (of course!) reply that this is an invalid argument from silence, since there is no compelling reason why we should expect to find a specific mention in the Pauline epistles that Paul knew that Thomas was one of the Twelve. Now with respect to Dunn’s argument, it seems that, if the Christians were ‘reserved’ about Christology, they could hardly have provoked the persecution of the pre-Damascus Saul himself. As

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Hengel observes, ‘A small troop of simple, Aramaic-speaking disciples of Jesus from elsewhere, without a christological kerygma and armed with only the pious wisdom sayings of the Logia source, could hardly have provoked the ambitious Jerusalem Pharisee and scribe to intervene by force’ (Hengel and Schwemer 1997, 85). Moreover, Tilling argues that, if Paul were ‘reserved’ about divine Christology, he would have sought to contradict forcefully the potential and natural misunderstandings of the Christ-relation which he wrote about in his letters to his (largely ex-pagan filled) churches, but he did not (Tilling 2012, 251). In addition, with respect to Dunn’s observation that there is evidence that Christians were persecuted by non-Christian Jews in Paul’s time in relation to the law and the ancestral traditions which he used to be zealous about (Gal. 1:13–14; cf. Phil. 3:6), it should be noted that zeal for the law and ancestral traditions does not exclude zeal for monotheism. On the contrary, what Hurtado (2013a) labelled ‘Ancient Jewish Monotheism’ was a fundamentally important part of the law and ancestral traditions. There were multiple ways in which the law and ancestral traditions could have been perceived by non-Christian Jews to be violated. On the one hand, Paul never denied that he and other Christians were persecuted because of their worship of Christ, which was perceived by non-Christian Jews as one of the ways in which the Christians violated the ancestral traditions. On the other hand, why should we expect to find a specific mention in the Pauline epistles that the persecution they endured was due to their worship of Christ if it was indeed due to their worship of Christ? After all, it is unlikely that Paul would have thought it necessary to give a specific mention of this. That is, if Paul and other Christians did worship Christ, as the evidences mentioned in Chapter  2 indicate, then this being one of the reasons for them being persecuted by non-Christian Jews for (apparent) violation of the ancestral traditions would have been so evident to his readers that he would have no need to give a specific mention of this. As Dunn himself observes it elsewhere, Paul … would not have been trying to cover every aspect of his theology every time he dictated another letter. On the contrary, as the letters themselves make quite clear, they were occasional documents … Their content was determined principally by Paul’s perception of the needs of the recipient churches. That inevitably means gaps and silences

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The Extent of Highest Christology which modern commentators naturally find frustrating, but which they must nevertheless allow for in their reconstructions of Paul’s theology. (Dunn 1998, 188)

Therefore, while the presence of such specific mentioning would not have been surprising (since the evidences discussed in the previous chapters support the view that Paul worshipped Christ), the absence of this is not problematic for the conclusion that Paul worshipped Christ either. Moreover, as Capes observes, The issues involved in mining Paul’s letters for evidence of the thinking of outsiders are problematic. Paul’s letters are pastoral responses to needs that have arisen among believers in churches he knows. They are not, for the most part, a record of Paul’s debates with non-believing Jews or Greeks. The opposition faced by Paul recorded in the letters comes from believers who insist that Gentiles observe Torah. (Capes 2004, 134) Hence, unless there were professing Christians (and not non-Christians only) who insisted against the worship of Christ, there is no good reason to think that Paul would have specifically mentioned the opposition to the worship of Christ in his letters. In sum, Dunn’s circumstantial argument based on the apparent lack of persecution of Paul for his worship of Christ is an invalid argument from silence, and hence it fails to overturn the conclusion (established in the previous chapters) that Paul regarded Christ as truly divine. Additionally, hints of non-Christian Jewish persecution of the earliest Christians in relation to their worship of Christ are present in other parts of the New Testament. As Hurtado observes, the narratives in Acts 3–4, 5:12–42 and 6:8–15 all portray Jewish opposition to Jewish-Christian christological claims and to the liturgical use of Jesus’ name. Hurtado writes, Whatever one thinks of the specific historicity of these narratives, it seems reasonable to view them as reflecting at least in general terms real experiences of Jewish Christians of the pre-70 C.E. period. … [Also,] the Jewish Christians against whom Paul is portrayed as taking action are referred to simply as ‘those who invoke Jesus’ name’ (Acts 9:14, 21),

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phrasing that alludes to Old Testament references to calling upon the name of the Lord … In the speech before Agrippa, Paul is pictured as characterizing his pre-conversion aim as ‘to do many things against the name of Jesus of Nazareth’ (26:9). … Those Jewish Christians who are punished by the authorities are pictured in Acts as regarding their suffering as ‘for the sake of the name’ of Jesus (5:41). [This indicates that] Jesus-devotion, including cultic actions concerned with him, seems to be central to the conflict with Jewish authorities’ (Hurtado 2005, 157 n.17, 161).1 Concerning Acts 26:9, this is compatible with what Paul says in his epistles (Gal. 1:13–14; Phil. 3:5–6) that he persecuted the first Christians due to his zeal for the law and ancestral traditions, because their worship of Jesus would have been seen by the pre-converted Paul as a violation of the law. 5.4

Argument from Silence?

It might be objected that my argument for thinking that the conviction that Jesus was truly divine was widespread among the earliest Christians is also based on an argument from silence in Paul’s epistles, similar to Dunn’s argument which was rejected previously. In reply, first, while it is true that absence of evidence is not always evidence for absence, an argument from silence is valid when there is good reason to think that the silence would have been broken if the conclusion were otherwise, and it is an important argument that is widely used in historical studies. As Hurtado observes, ‘In attempting historical work, it is almost impossible to avoid considering arguments from silence’ (Hurtado 2003, 239). The comparison with Dunn’s argument is instructive. Dunn’s argument is invalid because, as noted previously, Paul’s letters were not, for the most part, a record of his debates with non-believing Jews or Greeks. Hence, there is no compelling reason why we should expect to find specific mentions in the Pauline epistles that Paul’s worship of Christ caused him to be persecuted by non-Christians. Indeed, to mine Paul’s letters for evidence of the thinking of outsiders is problematic (Capes 2004, 134). On the other hand, Paul’s letters were pastoral responses to needs that had arisen among insiders in churches 1

For the significance of the invocation of Jesus’ name, see Chapter 2.

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he knew (Capes 2004, 134), and his acquaintance with beliefs and practices of Christian circles was both wide and extremely early (Hurtado 2003, 85–86). As noted above, Paul did not hesitate to disagree with other insiders (with whom he was concerned to maintain links with) in important matters, and traces of such disagreements can be found in many parts of the New Testament. Thus, there is good reason to expect that Paul would have responded in his epistles to any challenge from professing Christians concerning such a fundamentally important matter as the worship of Jesus, which he advocated in churches. Therefore, the argument here is a valid argument from silence. Second, it is not accurate to say that the point being made here is based entirely on argument from silence. In addition to this conspicuous lack of evidence of disagreements, it is worth underscoring the positive evidence that we have, namely the fact that in his epistles Paul considered the Jerusalem saints led by members of the Twelve to be fully Christian. Dunn observes that Paul’s writings (e.g. 1 Cor. 15:3, 11)  indicate that the gospel of ‘first importance’ concerning Jesus was the common message, belief and identity marker of the earliest Christians (see Dunn 2008, 213, 533, 657). Hill points out that Gal. 1:23 and 2:7–9 imply that they shared the same faith and proclaimed the same gospel; Paul’s epistles contained earlier Christian traditions that Paul himself received from ‘those who were in Christ before me’ (Rom. 16:7; e.g. in 1 Cor. 11:23–26 and 15:1–11, esp. 15:11 ‘Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe’2); Paul recognized the authority of the Jerusalem church to validate – or 2 Such statements in 1 Corinthians do not conflict with Paul’s claim in Galatians 1:11–12 that the gospel he proclaimed was not received from a human source nor taught but was received through a revelation of Jesus Christ, for Galatians 1:11–12 can be understood as referring to how Paul initially received the Gospel, i.e. through direct revelation of Jesus. This does not preclude other Christians subsequently telling him about a similar Gospel tradition and which he later passed on to the church at Corinth. McKnight explains, ‘at Galatia, where Paul was being accused of being an abbreviator of the Jerusalem gospel (and therefore wrong), Paul asserts that his gospel did not come from Jerusalem but from Jesus Christ. In other words, Paul is talking about the source of his gospel to the Galatians. On the other hand, at Corinth Paul is seeking to demonstrate the essential continuity of his gospel with other apostolic expressions of the gospel and the heritage his gospel has. However much Paul wanted to assert that his gospel was independent in source, he did not shrink at the same time from observing that the Jerusalem leaders “gave him the right hand of fellowship” … in other words, they approved of his independently derived gospel. The gospel Paul preached was consistent with the gospel of his predecessors; but the gospel Paul preached was not from them, since Paul got it by direct revelation’ (McKnight 1995, 69–70).

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even to invalidate – his gospel (Gal. 2:2), and assumed the legitimacy of Jerusalem leaders (e.g. 1 Cor. 3:22; 9:5). Given the centrality of Christ to the gospel and Christian faith, all these would have been extremely unlikely if the Jerusalem saints held to a non-divine Christology contrary to Paul’s (Hill 2007). For if that were the case, the Jerusalem saints and Paul would have condemned each other, just as ‘orthodox Christians’ and ‘non-orthodox Christians’ (Ebionites, Arians, Jehovah Witnesses, etc.) have condemned one other’s Christology as ‘heretical’ throughout history. (As Royalty [2013] has shown, the social and rhetorical dynamics of labelling certain views as unacceptably deviant can be traced all the way back to pre-Christian Jewish texts, long before the term ‘heresy’ [Greek: hairesis] is used in this way in the second century.) Thus the evidences for thinking that Paul considered the Jerusalem saints to be fully Christian, assumed the authority of Jerusalem leaders and proclaimed the same gospel concerning Jesus Christ (even though he voiced disagreements about other matters) imply that Paul’s highest Christology was also the Christology of the Jerusalem Christians led by members of the Twelve. In addition, there are also passages in the Gospels which portray members of the Twelve recognizing that Jesus was truly divine (Matt. 28:16–20; Luke 24:50–52; John 20:28–29; see Chapter 7). Hence, even though there was a certain diversity among the earliest Christians concerning a number of other convictions, there are very good reasons for thinking that the Pauline letters reflect the widely shared convictions between Paul and other earliest Christians that Christ was truly divine. (This point remains valid despite the later variations among Christians concerning how the implications of this highest Christology are to be understood, for example, in relation to questions concerning whether Jesus truly suffered, whether he was omniscient, etc. For an assessment of these problems, see Loke 2014.) The conclusion that highest Christology was the widespread conviction among the earliest Christians is consistent with the fact that there are different christological emphases and approaches in the books of the New Testament (cf. Dunn 1980, 62; Neyrey 1985; Tuckett 2001). Additionally, the conclusion is strengthened by evidences of highest Christology in other first-century Christian writings, as well as the lack of compelling evidence to the contrary in these writings (concerning the Christology in the Epistle of James, 1 Peter, the Johannine letters, etc., see Michaels 2005, 270–284; Witherington 1998; cf. Vermès 2001; for the Synoptic Gospels, see Chapter 7). The hint of christological controversy in 1 John 4:2 (‘By this you know

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the Spirit of God:  every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God’ [NRSV]) should not be regarded as counter-evidence to my argument, because 1 John was written decades later than the Pauline epistles, and because the dissidents referenced in 1 John 4:2 are the Docetists who also affirmed the divinity of Jesus (but denied his true humanity). 5.5

Reply to Objections by Bart Ehrman and Others

The work by Bauer has been credited for highlighting the element of diversity in early Christianity. Nevertheless, various scholars have pointed out that his arguments for how ‘orthodoxy’ triumphed are fundamentally flawed. For example, Bauer’s claim that in several geographical areas theologies later labelled ‘heresy’ were earlier than ‘orthodox’ teaching has been shown to be inconsistent with archaeological and literary evidences (Harrington 1980; Robinson 1988). Others have demonstrated that Bauer did not pay sufficient attention to the first-century New Testament evidences while anachronistically used second-century data to describe the nature of earliest (first-century) Christianity (Köstenberger and Kruger 2010, 33). Likewise, the multiple trajectories model of early Christian developments proposed by Robinson and Koester (1971) has also been rejected by many scholars for its problematic analysis of the data (see Köstenberger and Kruger 2010; Hurtado 2013b; Hartog 2015). This does not deny that there were elements of diversity in earliest Christianity. It has been mentioned previously that there are traces of disagreements in many parts of the New Testament concerning various important matters, with the marked exception concerning the true divinity of Christ. In addition, Hurtado notes that there was linguistic diversity, trans-local diversity, and ethnic and social diversity as well. Nevertheless, he also observes But along with the evident diversity, a well-attested ‘networking’ was another feature of early Christianity. This involved various activities, among them the sending and exchange of texts, believers travelling for trans-local promotion of their views (as e.g. the ‘men from James’ in Gal. 2:11, or Apollos’ travels to Corinth in 1 Cor. 1:12; 3:5–9; 16:12), representatives sent for conferral with believers elsewhere (as depicted, e.g. Acts 15:1–35), or sent to express solidarity with other circles of believers (as e.g. those accompanying

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the Jerusalem offering in 1 Cor. 16:3–4). After all, travel and communication were comparatively well developed in the Roman world generally, among wealthy and a good many ordinary people, for business, pilgrimage to religious sites/ occasions, for health, to consult oracles, for athletic events, sightseeing, and other purposes. ‘So’, as Richard Bauckham observed, ‘the context in which the early Christian movement developed was not conducive to parochialism; quite the opposite’. Indeed, in that world of frequent travel and communication, the early Christians particularly seem to have been given to networking, devoting impressive resources of time, money, and personnel to this, and on a wide trans-local scale. (Hurtado 2013b, 454) Hurtado also observes that another early and highly significant indication of the interactive dynamics is the reference to a Pauline letter-collection in 2 Pet. 3:15–16 (c. AD 70–120). He writes It is noteworthy that the text appears to reflect a view of Paul’s letters as scripture held by Christian circles that otherwise differed sharply from each other. According to this passage, both the author of 2 Peter and those he calls ‘the ignorant and unstable’, whom he condemns for their ‘twisted’ readings, apparently shared a high regard for Paul’s letters, and wrestled with one another over their true meaning. (Hurtado 2013b, 461) In sum, the diversity of earliest Christianity is much more complicated than what the proposals of Bauer, Robinson and Koester suggest. I shall now focus on the issue of whether there is diversity in earliest Christianity concerning the divine status of Christ by replying to Ehrman’s arguments noted at the beginning of this chapter. To begin, there is no adequate evidence for thinking that the low Christology affirmed by the Ebionites existed in the first century (Skarsaune 2007). The Ebionites probably originated sometime in the second century as an attempt to reform the Jewish (Torah observing) form of Christianity by rejecting the divinity and virgin birth of Jesus (Bauckham 2003, 162–175). Ehrman claims that some scholars have maintained that the Ebionites could trace their lineage to the earliest followers of Christ (Ehrman 2014, 290–292). Other scholars have objected that this is speculative in view of the time gap between

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the mid first century and the first appearance of the Ebionites in the mid-to-late second century (Luomanen 2007). Although some scholars such as Eisenman (1997) may have established that a number of features of Ebionitism shared certain similarities with James’s community, they have not shown that all the features are similar. In particular, they have not demonstrated that the low Christology of the second-century Ebionites (the word Ebionite is based on the Aramaic word for the poor) was held by James’s community, by ‘the poor’ mentioned in Gal. 2:10, or by any Christian community in the first century. The Letter of James (regardless of whether it is authentic)3 does not contain any evidence of arguing against a high Christology, but only against a certain interpretation of the relationship between faith and works (James 2:14–26). On the contrary, a number of scholars have argued that the use of κύριος in this letter to refer to God and to Jesus can be interpreted as indicating a highest Christology (see Witherington 1998). Ehrman has not excluded the possibility that the low Christology of second-century Ebionitism was a later deviation by certain descendants of the earliest followers of Christ (whether James’s community, ‘the poor’ in Gal. 2:10 or others). That is, they deviated from the highest Christology of their first-century forebears. On the other hand, I have already explained in previous sections the reasons for thinking that highest Christology was widely held in earliest Christianity, and the existence of this widely held conviction still demands an explanation in any case. Contrary to Ehrman’s claims concerning the Gospels, many scholars have argued (based on passages such as Matt. 28:19) that the Gospel of Matthew evinces the highest Christology (Bauckham 1999, 75–76; Gathercole 2006, 69; see Chapter 7). The fact that the author of John did not write his Gospel earlier does not imply that a highest Christology was not held by his community earlier. As for Mark and Luke, some have argued that these Gospels indicate a highest Christology as well (e.g. Grindheim 2011; see the discussion in Chapter 7). Concerning the Gospel of Mark, Ehrman objects ‘there is no word of Jesus’s pre-existence or of his birth to a virgin. Surely if this author believed in either view, he would have mentioned it’ (Ehrman 2014, 238). But this is an invalid form of argument from silence. The evidences presented in Section 5.2 indicate that the earliest Christians were in widespread agreement that Jesus was 3 For a discussion of the controversy concerning the authorship of James, see Brosend (2004).

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pre-existent and on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. Given this, the proponent of Ehrman’s argument from silence would need to prove that the readers of Mark and other Synoptic Gospels did not share in this widespread agreement, such that the authors of Mark or other Synoptic Gospels would see a need to mention it. But there is no such proof. As Hurtado has argued, there is inadequate evidence for thinking that the community of the author of Mark’s Gospel did not hold to a highest Christology or that he held to an Adoptionist/Exaltation Christology, and one should be wary of making ‘sweeping conclusions based on what the author happened not to include in this very “occasional” text’ (Hurtado 2014d; for an assessment of the evidences in the Gospels, see Chapters 7 and 8). Some scholars have claimed that the Gnostic Gospels and/or the Gospel of Thomas4 reflect a diversity of views concerning Christ among the early Christians. For example, it has been suggested that the portrayal of Jesus’ response to the disciples’ question ‘who are you that you say these things to us?’, viz. ‘In what I say to you, you do not know who I  am’ in Gospel of Thomas 43 indicates an ‘intra-community division over Christology’ (Royalty 2013, 98). On the basis that the hypothetical Q saying source and the Gospel of Thomas are not preoccupied with the resurrection of Jesus, it has also been claimed that there were early Christian communities for which the resurrection of Jesus was not the central confession (Mack 1988; 1996; 2003; Crossan 1991; Kloppenborg Verbin 2000, 363–364; Cameron and Miller 2004; 2011). However, other scholars have observed that there are reasons for thinking that the Gnostic Gospels and the Gospel of Thomas were written after the time of the earliest Christians (i.e. later than the mid first century), and that they are inferior to the canonical Gospels as historical sources for Jesus (Jenkins 2001; Hill 2010). Concerning the Gospel of Thomas in particular, there are evidences that it is dependent on the Gospels of Matthew and Luke and Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, that it reflects a certain chronological and cultural distance from the historical Jesus of first-century Palestine, and that it was probably composed in the mid second century (Gathercole 2012; 2015). In any case, these non-canonical Gospels also affirm that Jesus was divine. As Ehrman observes, ‘the Gospels that did not 4 While some scholars classify the Gospel of Thomas as Gnostic, others object (e.g. it lacks the distinction between the ‘true God’ and ‘the demiurge’); it is probably best to classify it as elitist and ascetic (Gathercole 2015).

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get included in the New Testament portray him as divine as much, or more so, than they portray him as human’ (Ehrman 2004, 23–24). The argument from Q is invalid, for even if there is such a source (the existence of which remains controversial; see Goodacre and Perrin 2004), there is no adequate reason to think that the Christian communities that used Q did not use other documents that emphasized the resurrection (Dunn 2003a, 149–152). It has also been pointed out that the picture of Jesus which Mack and others have constructed on the basis of Q is so unpolemical and inoffensive that one wonders why such a Jesus would have aroused sufficient hatred among the Jews that they got him crucified (Tuckett 2011, 1873). In summary, I  have shown the inadequacies of the objections against the conclusion (based on reasons given earlier) that the Pauline letters reflect the widespread and persistent conviction among the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine. It should be noted that I  am not claiming that there was no first-century person who called himself a Christian and who denied that Jesus was divine. What I have argued is that, regardless of whether every first-century person who called himself a Christian regarded Jesus as divine or not, there was widespread agreement among the leaders of the Jerusalem church and Paul and his co-workers that Jesus was truly divine, and the origin of this widespread agreement demands an explanation. To arrive at the answer, I shall first examine a number of theories which fail to explain this origin satisfactorily. From this assessment, we shall discover some of the requirements for a satisfactory explanation. 5.6

Examples of Theories Which Fail to Explain the Widespread Extent

5.6.1

Problems with Early Evolutionary Theory (Bousset)

The highest Christology of the earliest Christians implies the failure of all ‘Later Development/Unfolding’ and/or ‘Later Evolutionary’ theories. But what about the ‘Early Evolutionary’ view? It has been proposed by Bousset and others (e.g. Bultmann 1983; Mack 1988) that highest Christology originated as a deviation from the beliefs of the primitive Palestinian community as the result of Gentile pagan influence. Others have suggested that the deification of Christ by Paul and other missionaries to the Gentiles was a response to the needs of the Gentiles (Vermès 2003, 50–52), such as their longing

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for a redeemer god (Fuller 1965, 185–186, 244–246). It has also been argued that semi-divine figures of Gentile mythology were often thought capable of great miracles, and anyone who came into the Christian faith with this understanding could easily have thought of Jesus as a semi-divine being (Ehrman 2009, 252–254). Such views have been subjected to severe criticisms by Hengel, Hurtado and others, a few of which will be given here. (For a fuller summary of criticisms, see Kuschel 1992, 245–250; Hurtado 2003, 19–24; Barnett 2005, cf. Crossan 1991.) First, a number of scholars have observed that acclaiming and invoking Jesus as ‘Lord’ was done in Aramaic-speaking Christian circles as well as Greek-speaking ones, as indicated by the invocation formula maranatha, preserved by Paul in 1 Cor. 16:22. This Aramaic formula was so familiar already by the date of this epistle that no translation of it was required for his Greek-speaking Gentile Christian readers in Corinth (Hurtado 2003, 20–21; cf. Bousset 1970, ch.3 and 4). Furthermore, the references to Jesus as ‘Lord’ in Pauline epistles frequently involve allusions to Old Testament passages (e.g. 1 Cor. 8:6; Phil. 2:9–11) and appropriation of biblical phrasing (e.g. Rom. 10:9–13). These confirm that the early use of the title ‘Lord’ in Christian circles derived from Jewish religious vocabulary and not from pagan sources (Hurtado 2003, 20–21). Second, as Hengel and others have argued, Bousset’s theory does not adequately allow for the clear interplay of influences characteristic of the Hellenistic and Roman periods. The Jews had encountered Hellenistic language and culture for 300 years by the time of Jesus. Though Jewish responses to Greek culture varied considerably, all forms of Jewish culture were ‘Hellenized’ in varying degrees and ways, whether located in Roman Judea or in the Diaspora. Thus the postulation of a phased doctrinal development from Jewish to Hellenistic Christianity is quite implausible (Hengel 1974; Hurtado 2003, 23). It is also inaccurate to speak of a purely ‘Hellenistic’ Gentile community prior to Paul. Early Christian groups including the Pauline communities continued to be led and shaped to a significant degree by Christian Jews, including Paul himself (Hurtado 2003, 24). Third, as Hurtado argues, based on the Jewish and non-Jewish evidences of the time, the scruple about the uniqueness of the one God was the most widely known and most fervently held feature of Roman-era Jewish religious practice. Compared to earlier times, Jewish reactions to pagan religious influences were generally more hostile, and their concern to maintain ethnic and religious

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particularities was more robust. Hence, it is unlikely that those Jews who identified themselves firmly with this particular strict monotheistic religious tradition, such as the earliest Christian Jews (see Chapter  3), would have accommodated Jesus in such lofty terms under pagan influence (Hurtado 2005, 41).5 Fourth, even if some of these Christians did accommodate under pagan influence, there would have been significant objections from the more traditionalist Jewish Christians (who expressed strong opposition to Jews and Gentiles eating together, etc.), and it would not have been the case (established earlier) that the conviction concerning the worship of Jesus was widely held among the earliest Christians. Furthermore, Paul’s uncompromising stance in his preaching of the crucified Christ despite it being perceived by the Gentiles as foolishness (1 Cor. 1:22) indicates that he was not someone who would have easily allowed his convictions concerning the identity of Christ to be altered by Hellenistic ideas, even if it were for the needs of his Gentile audience. In any case, the deification of Christ would only make the scandal of the crucifixion worse. As Hengel observes, ‘A crucified Jewish martyr, a martyred innocent, a second Socrates could have appealed to Jews and Greeks as an edifying example; a crucified God was for every educated person in antiquity a shameless impertinence; indeed, an absurdity’ (Hengel 1995, 383). Finally, Pauline letters reflect an already well-developed pattern of devotion to Jesus the key features of which likely pre-date Paul’s conversion (Hurtado 2003, 24). Bauckham observes that, From the 19th century onwards, there have been recurrent attempts to cast the apostle Paul in the role of founder of Christianity. Paul, it is suggested, was the first to make Jesus the object of faith and worship. But all such theories founder on the fact that, apart from anything else, Paul did not have sufficient power and influence to invent Christianity. After coming to believe in Jesus the Messiah, Paul was a major Christian missionary, who did much to spread the Christian Gospel, especially among non-Jews, in the areas of modern Turkey and Greece. But there was already a large Christian community in Rome long before 5 The once popular Gnostic redeemer myth theory defended in Reitzenstein (1956) and Bultmann (1967), which claims that Christian evangelists utilized pre-Christian Gnostic concept of a redeemer for their Christology, has been well criticized for its faulty assumptions (e.g. Colpe 1961; Yamauchi 1973) and is now widely rejected.

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Paul visited the capital. Christianity must soon have spread to Egypt and to Mesopotamia, developments with which Paul had no involvement … The centre from which the early Christian movement developed and spread throughout the ancient world was not Paul, but the Jerusalem church, led initially by the twelve apostles and subsequently by James the brother of Jesus. What was common to the whole Christian movement derived from Jerusalem, not from Paul, and Paul himself derived the central message he preached from the Jerusalem apostles. The heart of Paul’s teaching was common early Christian faith, though he was undoubtedly a thinker of genius who shaped that faith into a characteristic form, as did a number of other major teachers in the early church (such as the author of John’s Gospel). (Bauckham 2011, 110–111) Based on the above-mentioned evidences, we can reject the view that highest Christology originated as a deviation from the beliefs of the primitive Palestinian community. On the contrary, the evidences indicate that the primitive Palestinian Christian community held a highest Christology. Hence, it can be concluded with Hurtado that the conviction that Jesus was truly divine ‘exploded’ right at the beginning of Christianity (Hurtado 2005, 25, 31–55), and with Bauckham that ‘The earliest Christology was already the highest Christology’ (Bauckham 2008a, x). The next question then is to ask what the best explanation for this explosion is. What could have caused the very first Christians who had lived with Jesus for some time to think of him as truly divine? Broadly speaking, there are only two possibilities:  Either the explanation involves them perceiving Jesus giving a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine (and they chose to follow his view on this matter), or it does not involve this. Let us now examine a number of recent proposals for the latter possibility. 5.6.2

Problems with Resurrection and Ascension Theory (Ehrman)

The earliest Christians’ belief in God’s exaltation of Jesus through his resurrection and ascension, without Jesus himself claiming to be divine, lies at the heart of Ehrman’s proposal concerning ‘how Jesus became God’ (Ehrman 2014). Ehrman argues that the belief in Jesus’

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resurrection ‘led them to re-evaluate who Jesus was, so that the Jewish apocalyptic preacher from rural Galilee came to be considered, in some sense, God’ (Ehrman 2014, 174). Ehrman argues that Jesus’ disciples must have reasoned that ‘Jesus now had been exalted to heaven and is the heavenly messiah to come to earth. In an even more real sense, he was God. Not God almighty, of course, but he was a heavenly being, a superhuman, a divine king, who would rule the nations’ (Ehrman 2014, 208). ‘It was because of his exalted status that Jesus was deemed worthy of worship’ (Ehrman 2014, 235). It is true that the New Testament links the declaration of Jesus’ divine status with the actions and will of God the Father as exhibited by God’s exaltation of Jesus through his resurrection and ascension. Nevertheless, as Wright has argued, beliefs about Jesus’ resurrection and ascension by themselves are unlikely to have the effect of causing the pervasive and persistent conviction among the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine and worthy of worship. The reason is because their subsequent reflection of such events would have shown such events to be in themselves insufficient justification for such a conviction. As Wright explains, Paul and the Jewish Christians anticipated a general resurrection of the dead at Christ’s return, but the resurrected dead are not thereby designated ‘Lord’ (Wright 2002, 60). Concerning Jesus’ ascension, Wright argues that this would not have the effect of proving Jesus divinity for the earliest Christians as well, ‘because all that the ascension shows is that Jesus had, in New Testament theology, thereby attained the place marked out from the beginning not for an incarnate being but for the truly human one (note the use of Ps. 8 in, for example, 1 Cor. 15:27)’ (Wright 2002, 60). Therefore, these Christians must have had other reasons for their claims about Jesus, and the resurrection appearances were perceived by them as a support for such convictions (Wright 2002, 60). As noted previously, Wright thinks that the ‘other reasons’ would include their perception of Jesus’ self-understanding. This is highly plausible in view of the reasons which I shall explain in Chapter 6. Likewise, Bird argues that resurrection alone would have been insufficient to generate the idea that Jesus was truly divine. He cites the examples of the two witnesses in Revelation 11 who were said to have been resurrected and ascended to heaven, and The Testament of Job in which the bodies of Job’s children were said to have been taken to heaven, and observes that these people were not regarded as divine. He concludes that ‘the resurrection magnified rather than manufactured Jesus’ claims to a divine status’ (Bird 2014b, 66–67). As

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noted earlier, Ehrman argues that in pagan sources people who were taken to heaven were made divine. However, these parallels are irrelevant because, as argued in Chapter 3, unlike those pagans the earliest Christian leaders who regarded Jesus as truly divine were strict monotheists who held to a Creator–creature divide, and Jesus was regarded to be already on the Creator side of the divide prior to the existence of all things (1 Cor. 8:6), rather than beginning as a mere human who was then made divine. 5.6.3

Problems with Religious Experience Theory (Hurtado)

In his writings, Hurtado (2003, 27–78) lays out four factors which drove and shaped the early Christ devotion: (1) Jewish monotheism, (2) the impact of Jesus, (3) religious experiences and (4) the encounter with the larger religious environment. These will now be examined in turn. (1)

(2)

The influence of Jewish monotheism has been noted in previous chapters of this book. It shapes the devotion of Jesus away from polytheism and renders improbable any modification of monotheism under outside pagan influence (Hurtado 2003, 78). The strict monotheism of the earliest Christians (defended in Chapter 3 of this book) does not negate the possibility of them modifying it in order to take account of their own religious experiences or other developments (Hurtado 2003, 42–43). Nevertheless, in view of the strength of their commitment to monotheism, it is unlikely that the earliest Christians would have modified it (such as by conceiving the inclusion of Jesus within the divine being) unless there were overwhelmingly powerful internal reasons (i.e. reasons internal to their movement) which caused them to do it. Concerning the impact of Jesus as a contributing factor to the devotion of him, Hurtado does not think it necessary to make a case about what might have been Jesus’ own purposes and the claims he made for himself (e.g. a prophet, messianic figure, etc.), although he thinks that Jesus clearly intended a special role for himself in the religious life of his followers. He thinks it is quite sufficient to take account of the effects of his career, the strong polarizing influence of his ministry which generated devout followers and hostile enemies (Hurtado 2003, 53–63).

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(3)

Hurtado highlights the importance of religious experiences of Christians after Jesus’ crucifixion. This factor is a crucial driving force in Hurtado’s theory. He argues that, given the religious scruples of the ancient Jewish tradition and the reluctance of devout Jews to accord cultic reverence to any figure other than God, what could have prompted such a major innovation in the devotional practices must have been experiences which the earliest Jewish Christians took to be revelations sent by God, experiences which convinced them that obedience to God demanded the worship of Christ (Hurtado 2003, 72). For Hurtado, the category of religious experiences is broad enough to include various possibilities such as hallucinatory experiences, the projections of mental processes of the recipients, or witnessing the acts of God (see his discussion of the disciples’ experiences of the ‘risen Christ’ as the historical ignition points for the christological convictions linked to them in Hurtado 2005, 194). Hurtado does not argue for any particular possibility as the explanation of these experiences concerning the origin of high Christology. Instead Hurtado suggests that such experiences took several forms: (i) Visions, especially visions of the resurrected/exalted Christ. He argues that, based on other traditions about such experiences (e.g. Acts 7:54–56; 2 Cor. 12:  l-4; Rev. 5:1–14), they seem to have included visions of (and/or ascents to) God’s heaven, in which ‘the glorified Christ was seen in an exalted position, and perhaps receiving heavenly cultus with God. It would appear that corporate worship was a frequent setting for such visions and “revelations” and other experiences understood as prompted by the Holy Spirit (e.g. 1 Cor. 14:26)’ (Hurtado 2003, 73). Concerning Acts 7:54–56, Hurtado argues that the enraged response of his fellow Jewish religionists that erupts when Stephen reports this vision (v.58) suggests that its contents were taken by them as a blasphemous infringement upon the uniqueness of God. Furthermore, Stephen is pictured as praying to the heavenly Jesus (vv.59–60), the very sort of specifically cultic devotion otherwise reserved for

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God in Jewish tradition. Hurtado also argues that the author of Acts would have described the sort of experiences that his readers had heard about and were prepared to treat seriously in order that his readers would give the account credibility. He concludes that ‘the vision of Stephen may be taken by us as at least an indirect reflection of the sorts of visionary experiences that were reported among early Christians and were felt as divine disclosures of the exalted status of Jesus and the cultic honors due him’ (Hurtado 2005, 199). (ii) Inspired/spontaneous utterances in the form of prophetic oracles and songs. Hurtado argues that the universal acclamation of Jesus as ‘Lord’ in Phil. 2:9–11 is to be done to the glory of God the Father reflects the conviction that the cultic veneration of Jesus was understood by early Christians as obedience to God and not at all as detracting from the honouring of God (Hurtado 2005, 199–200; however, the genre of Phil. 2:6–11 is being actively contested in contemporary literature, as noted in Chapter 2). (iii) Charismatic exegeses of Old Testament texts (Hurtado 2003, 64–74). For example, Phil. 2:9–11 reflects a novel early Christian exegesis of Isa. 45:22–25, which gives the rationale to believers and unbelievers for reverencing Jesus as Kyrios, the basis being God’s own exaltation of him. The fourth factor Hurtado considers is the encounters with the Roman-era religious environment. In their efforts to commend their religious views and practices, the early Christians would have sought to differentiate their message from others of the time. This motivation, plus the opposition and criticism suffered by the early Christian movement, would have contributed to the further conceptualization of their view. For example, the christological use of divine sonship language may well reflect a reaction against the Roman emperor cult (Hurtado 2003, 74–77). In comparison with the arguments that Jesus was presented as a kind of counter-emperor figure in Gospel of Mark and some other early Christian texts in Peppard (2011), Hurtado comments

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The Extent of Highest Christology whereas Peppard focused more narrowly on the meaning of divine sonship language and particularly possible ‘resonance’ with the rhetoric of emperor cult, my own work has focused more broadly on questions about when and how Jesus-devotion emerged, how it was expressed and how it developed across the earliest period of Christianity. (Hurtado 2014b)

It is likely that the New Testament writers (like any good communicator) would have crafted the presentation of their beliefs such that they resonated with their intended audience (Peppard 2011, 27–28). Nevertheless, this does not explain the origination of their beliefs in the first place. Peppard relates the explosive beginning of devotion to Jesus in earliest Christianity (as defended by Hurtado) to the explosive beginning of the use of the term ‘Son of God’ in the Roman world when Octavian claimed it as the title. He writes His new status as ‘Son of God’ spread throughout the Empire, via every medium of Roman communication. By the end of Tiberius’s principate, the mantle of divine sonship had been laid upon each princeps, the most famous person in the world, for about eighty years. Therefore, the divine sonship of the emperor – how it was acquired, how it was portrayed, what it meant – is of utmost relevance for understanding the divine sonship of Jesus. Stated most succinctly, my ultimate critique of biblical scholarship on divine sonship is this: its field of vision has a blind spot the size of the Roman emperor. To interpret the term ‘Son of God’ in the Roman world without discussing the emperor shows a neglect of his importance and a lack of sensitivity to how language functions in society. It is like interpreting the ‘American dream’ without discussing the world-changing speech of Martin Luther King. (Peppard 2011, 30) Building on Peppard’s work, Ehrman thinks that the earliest Christians claimed that Jesus was divine to compete with the Romans’ claiming their emperors to be divine. He argues that the time that Christianity arose was the time when the emperor cult was in full swing, and that Christians were calling Jesus the Son of God on the heels of Romans calling their emperors the Son of God. He thinks that this was not an accident, but a competition about who

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was the real god-man, and that the earliest Christians were under the influence and in dialogue with the environment they lived (Ehrman 2014, ch.2) In reply, on the one hand, the fact that the explosive beginning of devotion to Jesus in earliest Christianity happened after the explosive beginning of the use of the term ‘Son of God’ in the Roman world does not imply that the latter caused the former. (As noted in Chapter 3, the term ‘Son of God’ had already been used in earlier times in Jewish tradition.) Instead, it may be that the latter influenced how the earliest Christians or Jesus himself conveyed their beliefs, for example, (1)

(2)

by using the term ‘Son of God’ which had already been used in earlier times in Jewish tradition as a metaphorical term to convey the idea that certain persons had an intimate relationship with God; and by emphasizing how Jesus the Son of God was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of others out of love, in contrast with the Roman Son of God.

Influencing how the earliest Christians conveyed their beliefs does not imply influencing how the earliest Christians formed their beliefs about Jesus in the first place. While on hearing about Jesus as the Son of God the Gentile audience might have associated him with various sons of Zeus or the Roman emperor (Peppard 2011, 27–28), this does not imply that the New Testament writers who proclaimed Jesus as the Son of God would have regarded Jesus to be similar to the sons of Zeus or the Roman emperor. On the other hand, it has already been shown in previous chapters that the earliest Christians rejected idolatry and regarded Jesus to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide. Of course, the earliest Christian Jews were in dialogue with the environment they lived. Nevertheless, given their strict Jewish monotheistic stance and disdain for worship of humans including the Roman emperor (as shown by Hurtado and others; see Chapter 3), it is unlikely that they would have originated the idea that a human (Jesus) was truly divine in the first place, let alone inventing such a god-man for the purpose of competing with the Roman god-man. Something else must have been required to trigger the belief that Jesus was truly divine. Peppard claims that pagan thinkers were not as polytheistic as previously thought, and citing Athanassiadi and Frede (1999) and others, he states that ‘some intellectuals  – especially those

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influenced by Platonism – were gesturing toward monotheism in the first and second centuries’ (Peppard 2011, 35 and n.17). However, Athanassiadi and Frede observe that To describe such pagans as monotheists needs a serious qualification of the term, since they believed in many divine beings and perhaps even worshipped them, or at least condoned and perhaps encouraged their worship. But they would have found this perfectly compatible with their belief in one God, since they thought that these gods, though called ‘divine’ because they enjoy a life of eternal bliss, owed their being to God and were intended to play a certain role in the divine hierarchy. Hence they might have thought that to worship them was just a matter of acknowledging God’s ordering of the world and hence a way of worshipping God himself. (Athanassiadi and Frede 1999, 2) Thus, even though there were some intellectuals among the pagans who were not polytheists, in practice they at least condoned the worship of many divine beings and ‘allowed many gods and cults to coexist peacefully as complementary rather than alternative paths towards metaphysical illumination’ (Athanassiadi and Frede 1999, 9). This is dys-analogous to the earliest Christian Jews who held an exclusive worship of one divine Creator, and thus does not help to explain how the worship of Jesus arose among those Jews. Peppard notes that the use of ‘Son of God’ language in the Gospels has been problematic for dogmatic Christology because this term was also explicitly for Jesus’ followers (e.g. for the ‘peacemakers’ in Matt. 5:9) (Peppard 2011, ch.1, n.18). My argument for the highest Christology of the earliest Christians is not beset by this problem, because my argument does not rest on their affirmations of Christ as the ‘Son of God’ and how this was understood. Rather it is based on their affirmations that Christ is on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide (1 Cor. 8:6). Taking into account the importance of the Roman emperor and how language functions in society, one may say that ‘Son of God’ is a Jewish metaphorical term which conveys the idea that certain persons have an intimate relationship with God, and this aspect of its meaning was similar to the Roman usage in the first century. Hence the term was useful for conveying certain beliefs about Jesus and contrasting him with the Roman emperor. To conclude more than this (e.g. to assert ‘the divine sonship of the emperor  – how it was acquired, how it was portrayed,

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what it meant – is of utmost relevance for understanding the divine sonship of Jesus’ [Peppard 2011, 30], and then bring in Roman ideas of adoption as Peppard and Ehrman did) would be to go beyond what is warranted by the evidence. Going back to Hurtado’s analysis, of the four factors that he mentions, religious experiences were clearly the driving force behind the origin of the earliest Christians’ worship of Jesus according to his theory. The four factors interacted as follows:  Jewish monotheism helped to prevent the devotion from veering towards polytheism; the impact of Jesus helped to focus the devotion on Jesus (rather than on other individuals, such as Peter or James). Encounter with larger religious environment caused the early Christians to differentiate and conceptualize their devotion. But what drove the devotion in the first place were ‘religious experiences’. Hurtado’s analysis contains valuable insights. He is certainly correct that such an innovation (i.e. to include Jesus alongside God the Father) within their worship pattern was a major one; indeed, to worship another figure alongside God the Father was probably the greatest and most fundamental change for these Roman-era Jews. Surely the earliest Christians must somehow have been convinced that obedience to God demanded the worship of Jesus. Nevertheless, it should be noted that, while utterances (e.g. Phil. 2:9–11) and charismatic exegeses (e.g. applying Deut. 6:4 to Jesus in 1 Cor. 8:6, and Isa. 45 to Jesus in Phil. 2:9–11) reflect the beliefs of those engaged in these activities, there is no record in the earliest Christian documents that these activities were the cause of the christological beliefs of the earliest Christians in the first place. On the other hand, a few problems confront Hurtado’s theory. It has been shown previously that there are good reasons for thinking that the conviction concerning the worship of Jesus was widely shared among Christians from the very beginning. Against this, Dunn thinks it is odd that, given that Paul’s whole mission was under constant critique from more traditionalist Christian Jews, there is never any hint that such Jews found any cause for criticisms in Paul’s Christology if Paul indeed taught the worship of Christ (Dunn 2008, 579–580). Dunn’s criticism of Hurtado is highly perceptive. I  agree with Hurtado that visions of the exalted Jesus and charismatic phenomena (e.g. Acts 2:17–21; 1 Cor. 14:26, 30–32; 2 Cor. 12:7; Gal. 1:15–16; 2:2; l Thess. 5:19–22) are important features of early Christian circles. I also agree that religious experiences could provide new ‘revelatory

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insights’ into religious texts and prompt numerous developments of religions, as shown by social scientific studies of religious innovations in the history of religions. However, the crucial question that needs to be answered is what kind of experiences could have produced such widespread and unchallenged conviction among Christians which included even the more traditionalist Jews that obedience to God demanded the worship of Christ. Now it is reasonable to think that, if the experiences in question (visions, ‘inspired utterances’, etc.) involved only one or a small number of Christians at a time, this would have been discussed and challenged by other Christians concerning its implications for the normative worship pattern of believers. It would have been unlikely that those who did not have such experiences would have agreed that God demanded all Christians to practise such radical modification to the most fundamental and important aspect of their faith – the worship of one God  – without any hint of disagreement and discussion. With regard to Hurtado’s suggestion concerning Stephen in Acts 7:54–56, Paul in 2 Cor. 12:1–4 and John in Rev. 5:1–14, it is noteworthy that there is no indication in the texts that there were people around Paul, Stephen or John who were said to have seen what they claimed to see. One might postulate that there were indeed experiences which (unlike the subjective ‘charismatic events’ portrayed in Acts 7:54–56, 2 Cor. 12:1–4 and Rev. 5:1–14) involved a sizeable group of earliest Christians, and which produced the conviction among them that obedience to God demanded the worship of Christ, but these experiences were not recorded in the New Testament. In reply, if there were such crucially important events which involved a sizeable group of earliest Christians and affected their normative worship pattern, it is likely that such events would have left some hints of their existence in the New Testament. However, there is no hint of such events other than those which involved Jesus giving a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine (e.g. Matt. 28:19; John 20:28–29; see further, Chapter 7). The only other possible event is the ascension, which is portrayed in Luke 24:50–52 as being witnessed by a group of disciples who then worshipped him. But as noted earlier, Wright (2002, 60) has argued that Jesus’ ascension by itself would not have had that effect of proving Jesus’ divinity for the earliest Christians. I shall argue in subsequent chapters that it is more likely that there was already a perception of a prior claim made by Jesus, and the resurrection appearances (and

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perhaps the ascension as well) were then perceived as a support for such convictions. Against Fletcher-Louis, who has raised a similar objection against Hurtado by mentioning the apparent absence of evidence of controversy among earliest believers, Hurtado claims that this argument rests upon the dubious premise that ‘the historical Jesus movement’ is to be taken as the ‘parent tradition’ out of which earliest Christian circles then appeared. Hurtado argues that, on the contrary, for the Jewish believers the parent tradition was their ancestral Judaism, and that the NT texts typically distinguish Christian convictions about Jesus from the views of Jewish opponents, indicating that the earliest believers saw themselves in the context of, and vis-à-vis, that tradition. Hurtado also appeals to the fact that we have only a limited amount of evidence from and about the very earliest circles of Judean Jewish believers, and that attempts to probe back from what extant texts we have (particularly Pauline epistles and Acts) cannot claim to give a comprehensive account. He asks if it is possible that the reference to those who ‘doubted’ in Matt. 28:16–17 is an indirect indication that there were some Jesus-followers who did not fully accept the claims of others about the risen Jesus. He concedes that the apparent absence of a serious difference over Jesus-devotion is noteworthy, but insists that ‘we must simply conclude that the small circles of earliest (known) Jewish believers were basically agreed that the exalted Jesus bore divine glory and that God willed him to be reverenced accordingly’ (Hurtado 2010a, 15–16). In reply, it seems that the parent tradition being ancestral Judaism contributes to the problem Hurtado faces, as he has to explain (e.g. to Dunn) why there is absence of disagreement from traditionalist Jewish Christians who would hold strongly to this parent tradition. While the amount of evidence is limited, as argued in previous sections it is already sufficient to conclude that the earliest Christians were in widespread agreement concerning the status of Christ. The doubting mentioned in Matt. 28:16–17 is part of the tradition, well attested in all the Gospels, of the disciples doubting the resurrection initially (Matt. 28:17; Ps.-Mark 16:14; Luke 24:36–41; John 20:24–29), and is most plausible given the likelihood that ‘the disciples were not hopelessly and insensibly alienated from the solid world’ to find out from experience that corpses do not naturally exit tombs (Allison 2005, 246, 305). Hurtado’s insistence on his conclusion does not resolve the problem concerning the absence of serious discussions and disagreements over Jesus-devotion.

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Could it be that hints of disagreements or discussions were avoided because of the ability of influential leaders or preachers to persuade others to accept their charismatic exegeses of biblical texts concerning controversial and important matters? With regard to charismatic experiences Hurtado argues Acts 2:17–21, for example, claims that Joel’s prophecy of a time when ‘your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions’ is being fulfilled in the outpouring of the Spirit upon Christian believers. Paul portrays the worship setting as a venue in which prophecy and ‘revelation’ inspired by the Spirit are to be expected (1 Cor. 14:26, 30–32), and he exhorts the Thessalonian believers ‘do not quench the Spirit, do not despise prophesying’, urging instead a testing of all Spirit-phenomena and an embracing of that which is deemed ‘good’ (l Thess. 5: 19–22). Further, Paul frequently refers to his own revelations (e.g. Gal. 1:1 5–16; 2:2; 2 Cor. 12:7). (Hurtado 2010a, 14) However, as Christopher Rowland observes, within Jewish and early Christian sources there was considerable suspicion of claims to authority via dreams, visions or other charismatic experiences as well (Rowland 2002, 272–275). It is true that some such experiences were seen as a fulfilment of Joel’s prophecy and were expected as well as encouraged in Pauline congregations, but this does not imply that these experiences were to be accepted without challenge. On the other hand, there were evidences of warning against dreams in Sirach 34:1–8, the exhortation to judge the sayings of prophets in Paul’s writings (e.g. 1 Cor. 14:29), to test everything (l Thess. 5:19–22) and the portrayal in Acts 11:2 of how the influential leader Peter was questioned by those who were circumcised concerning his vision. It is also noteworthy that Paul disagreed with Peter (Gal. 2:11–14) concerning issues related to the acceptance of the Gentiles. While Christian leaders such as Paul understood their views on these controversial issues as being demanded by God, a significant number of other Christians at that time did not agree that God demanded them to do what these leaders practised. While Paul frequently refers to his own revelations as Hurtado notes, this evidently did not secure the widespread agreement of other Christians concerning Paul’s views. On the contrary, there were evidences of discussions and disagreements concerning Paul’s views and interpretations of biblical texts related to diverse issues, such as the propriety and rules governing

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Jews and Gentiles eating together, dietary habits, circumcision and works of the Law. Traces of these discussions and disagreements can be found throughout the earliest Christian documents, as noted previously. What this shows is that, while influential members of the Christian circle played an important role in doctrinal matters of the earliest church, the earliest Christians did not shun disagreements or discussions with one another (including disagreements with influential members) in various controversial matters of theological importance. Traces of such disagreements and discussions concerning diverse issues can be found in the earliest Christian documents. Yet how much more important and fundamental is the issue concerning the worship of God compared to issues like the acceptance of the Gentiles! By saying this, I  do not intend to imply that behaviours and practices of faith such as acceptance of the Gentiles are any less doctrinal for being such, rather my point is that these are not as central as the worship of God. Any implementation of new worship patterns based on the kinds of religious experiences which Hurtado suggests (i.e. visions, charismatic exegeses, etc.) would likely have met widespread dissent for at least quite some time among the earliest Christians (especially among those more traditionalist Christian Jews). And yet, shockingly, there is no hint of such disagreements or even discussions among Christians concerning the worship of Jesus in the earliest Christian documents. This absence is something which Dunn (2008, 579–580) and Hurtado (2003, 112, 164–166) both acknowledge.6 In his writings, Hurtado explains that he rests his case in part on rough analogies from other new religious movements, citing as examples the Qumran ‘Teacher of Righteousness’, Muhammad, Baha Ullah, Guru Nanak and others documented in historical and social scientific studies such as the American native ‘Ghost Dance’ and ‘Handsome Lake’ movements (Hurtado 2005, 203–204). In reply, my objection is not that religious experiences cannot generate new beliefs and modifications in devotional practice, which is illustrated by these cases. Rather, my objection is that I do not think it is likely that the sort of religious experiences Hurtado suggests could generate new beliefs and modifications in devotional practice that would secure widespread agreement about Jesus’ divine status by Jesus’ earliest followers, given 6 One might complain that this is an argument from silence, but this point has been addressed previously in this chapter.

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(1)

their first-century ancient Jewish monotheistic context with its strict Creator–creature divide, in which it would be reasonable for these earliest Jesus-followers to demur against the worship of a human figure Jesus; the presence of considerable suspicion of claims to authority via charismatic experiences in Jewish and early Christian sources, and the observation that Paul’s frequent reference to his own revelations did not secure widespread agreement among Christians concerning his views; and the earliest Christians regarded Jesus’ teachings as the supreme indication of God’s will. I shall argue in Chapter 6 that, if Jesus did not claim to be divine and some of these earliest followers knew about this as eyewitnesses of Jesus himself, then they would probably have reasoned that this was not God’s will (my engagement with Hurtado continues in Chapter 6).

(2)

(3)

5.6.4

Problems with Theological Deduction Theory (DeConick)

April DeConick proposes that the disciples undertook a series of steps of theological deduction, reasoning from the resurrection appearances vindicating Jesus as the righteous one, to him being a prophet like Moses, to his investiture with divine name, to him being the Angel of the LORD, to him being God (DeConick 2008). This theory faces the same problems as Hurtado’s theory, in that it does not satisfactorily account for the evidence of widespread agreement concerning the worship of Christ in the earliest Christian documents. It should be noted that (1)

(2)

(3)

The complicated deduction suggested by DeConick needs to be pointed out to the rest of the Christian community by those who thought of them. The validity of a few of the steps of the deduction – especially the step from ‘a prophet like Moses’ to ‘his investiture with divine name’ and the crossing of the creature–Creator divide  – is highly questionable and would likely have been challenged by those Christian Jews who held to a strict form of ancient Jewish monotheism (see Chapter 3). The issue of falsification of Jesus’ claims needs to be dealt with (see Chapter 6).

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Given the above considerations as well as the fact that the doctrine of God is such an important matter for the earliest Christians, we would have expected prolonged and extensive discussions and debates among them (especially the more traditionalist Christian Jews) reflected in the earliest Christian documents concerning the soundness of such a deduction, rather than widespread agreement that Jesus was truly divine. 5.7

Conclusion

I have argued that highest Christology was widespread among the earliest Christians. I observed that Hurtado has argued that Paul’s letters incorporated and reflected emergent Christian traditions of beliefs and religious practices from the earliest years of Christian movement, that Paul’s acquaintance with beliefs and practices of Christian circles was both wide and extremely early, and that it is extremely significant that there is a conspicuous lack of evidence of disagreements concerning the status of Christ in his epistles. The disagreement regarding ‘another Jesus’ in 2 Cor. 11:4 does not concern this status; rather it is the character of Jesus as setting the norm for Christian existence that is at stake (Martin 1986, 341–342). I noted that some might object that this is an argument from silence in Paul’s epistles. I replied with two observations: (1)

An argument from silence is valid when there is good reason to think that the silence would have been broken if the conclusion were otherwise. It is true that there is no compelling reason why we should expect to find specific hint(s) in the Pauline epistles that Paul’s worship of Christ caused him to be persecuted by outsiders, i.e. non-Christians. However, Paul’s letters are pastoral responses to needs that had arisen among insiders in churches he knew (Capes 2004, 134). Moreover, Paul did not hesitate to disagree with other insiders (with whom he was concerned to maintain links with) in important matters, and traces of such disagreements can be found in many parts of the New Testament. Thus, there is good reason to expect that Paul would have responded in his epistles to any challenge from professing Christians concerning such a fundamentally important matter as the worship of Jesus, which he advocated in churches.

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(2)

It is not accurate to say that the argument is based entirely on silence, for we also have positive evidence that Paul considered the Jerusalem saints to be fully Christian (Rom. 16:7; 1 Cor. 3:22; 9:5; 11:23–26; 15:1–11; Gal. 1:23; 2:2), which would be unlikely if they held to a non-divine Christology contrary to Paul’s (Hill 2007). This implies that Paul’s highest Christology was also the Christology of the Jerusalem Christians, and there are passages in the Gospels which portray members of the Twelve recognizing that Jesus was truly divine as well (Matt. 28:16–20; Luke 24:50–52; John 20:28–29; see Chapter 7). Hence, even though there was certain diversity among the earliest Christians concerning a number of other convictions, there are very good reasons for thinking that the Pauline letters reflect the shared convictions between Paul and other earliest Christians concerning the divine status of Christ.

In reply to Ehrman, I have argued that there is no evidence that the low Christology of the Ebionites existed in the first century. I have also argued that there is inadequate evidence for thinking that the communities to whom the authors of the Synoptic Gospels belong did not hold to a highest Christology, and the fact that the author of John did not write his Gospel earlier does not imply that a highest Christology was not held by his community earlier. Hence, there is inadequate evidence to support Ehrman’s claims against the conclusion (based on reasons given earlier) that the Pauline letters reflect the widespread conviction of the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine. The crucial question that needs to be answered is how to explain the origin of this widespread conviction. I have discussed a number of theories which fail to explain this satisfactorily:  Early Evolutionary Theory (Bousset), Resurrection and Ascension Theory (Ehrman), Religious Experience Theory (Hurtado) and Theological Deduction Theory (DeConick). In particular, with respect to Hurtado’s (2003, 2005) hypothesis, I  have pointed out the crucial question that needs to be answered is what kind of experiences could have produced this widespread conviction among Christians such that, given that Paul’s whole mission was under constant critique from more traditionalist Christian Jews, there is never any hint that such Jews found any cause for criticisms in Paul’s Christology (cf. Dunn 2008, 579–580). I  have argued

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that it would have been unlikely that those who did not have such experiences would have agreed that God demanded all Christians to practise such radical modification to the most fundamental and important aspect of their faith – the worship of one God – without any hint of disagreement and discussion. I noted Rowland’s (2002, 272–275) observation that, within Jewish and early Christian sources there was considerable suspicion of claims to authority via dreams, visions or other charismatic experiences as well. While Paul frequently refers to his own revelations as Hurtado notes, this evidently did not secure the widespread agreement of other Christians concerning Paul’s views. While the amount of evidence we have is limited (a point which Hurtado stressed), I have explained in previous sections that it is already sufficient to conclude that the earliest Christians were in widespread agreement concerning the status of Christ. Through my assessment of the theories by Hurtado and others, I have illustrated some of the problems facing those proposals which do not involve the earliest Christians perceiving Jesus giving a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine. In the subsequent chapters, I shall defend the proposal that involves this.

6 THE BEST EXPLANATION FOR THE ORIGIN OF HIGHEST CHRISTOLOGY

6.1

Introduction

In the preceding chapters, I have argued that there are good reasons for thinking that the earliest Christians – which included even the more traditionalist Jews  – regarded Jesus as truly divine, and that this was a widespread and persistent conviction among them. An in-depth historical analysis of this remarkable phenomenon would require asking what could have produced the widespread conviction among them that obedience to God demanded the recognition that Jesus was truly divine. From their writings, it is evident that the earliest Christians were rational enough to debate (e.g. Gal. 2:11–21), to think about the evidences for their faith (e.g. 1 Cor. 15:6), to consider its consequences (1 Cor. 15:14–19) – such as having to face frequent dangers and martyrdom (1 Cor. 15:30–32) – and to persuade others to hold to their views. Thus we cannot avoid the question ‘what reasons did they have for thinking that only this particular Jewish person (Jesus) – and not any other Jew – was truly divine?’ In this chapter, I  shall argue that, in order to answer this crucial question, their perception of Jesus’ understanding of this matter – together with his actions and ‘resurrection appearances’ – will have to be considered.

6.2

The Earliest Christians Were Evidently Concerned About Passing on the Traditions of Jesus’ Teachings

The relevance of the earliest Christians’ perception of Jesus’ self-understanding is well stated by Wright, who writes, Can you have a serious Christology without having Jesus aware of it? … If it is in the human life of Jesus of Nazareth that the living, saving God is revealed, that means that John 134

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and Paul themselves would urge us to consider Jesus himself. (Wright 2002, 52–53)1 Contrary to Bousset (1970, 169) and Bultmann (1983, 1:238–239), Paul’s statement ‘even though we once knew Christ according to the flesh, we know him no longer in that way’ in 2 Cor. 5:16 should not be taken to imply that the earthly Jesus was not important or relevant for Paul. As Dunn observes, in this verse ‘according to the flesh’ should be taken with the verb (‘knew’) rather than the noun (‘Christ’) (Dunn 1998, 184). On the other hand, Wright’s argument that the earliest Christians would have urged themselves and others to consider the views of Jesus himself is strengthened by the observation that earliest Christians were evidently concerned about passing on the traditions of Jesus’ teachings and to reinforce the authority of these traditions in the churches (for the importance of these early traditions, see Dunn 1998, 188, 649–658). The following are some examples in the letters of Paul (Hengel and Schwemer [1997, Section  6] notes that Paul could have obtained these traditions during the period he spent with the apostles in Jerusalem [Gal. 1:18]): G G

G G

G G

1 Thess. 4:15–17, cf. Matt. 24:30–32; 1 Cor. 7:10f., cf. Mark 10:11–13 parr.; cf. also Matt 5:32 par. Luke 16:18; 1 Cor. 9:14, cf. Matt. 10:10 par. Luke 10:7; 1 Cor. 11:23–25 paradosis about the Lord’s Supper:  Mark 14:22–25 parr.; Rom. 12:14, cf. Matt 5:44 par. Luke 6:27–28; Rom. 12:17 (cf. also 1 Thess. 5:15), cf. Matt. 5:39 par. (Labahn 2011, 1941–1944).

Regardless of the degree to which these examples accurately represent the actual words that Jesus spoke, they indicate the respect the earliest Christians had for Jesus’ teachings and a strong desire to pass on the substance of these teachings. On the basis of these and other evidences, Labahn rightly concludes The self-understanding of the early Christian movement was rooted very deeply in the message and activity of the earthly Jesus, although the impulses given by the Easter experience to the transmission of the tradition must not 1 Cf. Hick, ‘How is it possible for the church to know something so important about Jesus that he did not know himself ?’ (Hick 1993, 30).

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The Origin of Highest Christology be underestimated … As the evidence of individual transmission of elements from the Jesus tradition in the Pauline writings (with and without an explicit reference) shows, his theological thinking finds its orientation, not in a lack of interest in the earthly Jesus allegedly generated by Paul’s theology of the cross, but in an explicit reflection on the earthly Jesus, a reflection appropriate to the needs of his community at that period … The integration of the reception of Jesus in the concentrated form of narrative abbreviations is impressive and tells us a great deal about Paul’s thinking. This integration bears witness both to his reception of the tradition and to his profound understanding of it. (Labahn 2011, 1951)

The above considerations imply that the earliest Christians would very likely have been interested about what Jesus himself thought or would think concerning the worship of him, and they would probably have grounded their views concerning such a fundamentally important matter as the worship of God on his view. The above conclusion is also supported by the fact that the first-century Christians thought that it is important to know what a person thinks about himself/herself and what he/she does in order to know his/her identity. For example, consider this passage in the Gospels When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see:  the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.’ (Matt 11:2–6 NRSV; see also Luke 7:18–23) This passage portrays John the Baptist wanting to confirm who Jesus was, and what John did was to send people to ask Jesus himself who he thought he was. And Jesus indicated his answer by referring to the amazing things he had done. Concerning John’s own ministry, Luke portrays ‘the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah’ (Luke 3:15 NRSV). Their question was given a conclusive answer when John himself denied it (v.16; see also John 1:19–28).

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The important point to observe in these portrayals of Jesus and John in the Gospels is that, regardless of their historicity, they indicate that the first-century Christians held the view that, in order to know a person’s identity, it is important to know what he/she thinks about himself/herself and what he/she does. Therefore, given this context, if Jesus did not claim to be truly divine, many earliest Christians would have thought, ‘how could Jesus be divine, if even he himself didn’t seem to think that he was divine?’ It is commonsensical to think that, whenever possible, it is important to take into account who a person thinks he/she is, and many of the first disciples of Jesus would have thought the same way too. And for them it was possible to know first-hand who Jesus thought he was, given that they had spent some time with him during his ministry. Hence, if Jesus did not claim to be truly divine, it is unlikely that many of them would have regarded Jesus as truly divine, given their recognition of the importance of taking into account who the person thought he was, and given their acknowledgement of Jesus as the supreme indicator of God’s will. 6.3

The Difficulty of the Idea of Regarding a Human Jesus As Also Truly Divine

Moreover, consider again the context of the earliest Christians’ strict monotheism (see Chapter 3) in which the worship of Jesus arose. It has been shown in previous chapters how difficult it would have been to modify the monotheism of the Christian Jews, and that outside pagan influence was unlikely to have accomplished such a thing. An extremely strong force must have been necessary in order to cause the ‘explosion’ involving the widespread recognition that Jesus was divine, given the context of Jewish monotheism. Now it has been suggested by Dunn that the first Christians’ use of ‘Lord’ for Jesus resulted from an unreflective and enthusiastic use of Ps. 110:1 in reference to Jesus as the second Lord installed by the LORD God at his right hand (Dunn 2008, 220–221, 229). However, it is unlikely that unreflective and enthusiastic use of ‘Lord’ for Jesus could have resulted in the highest Christology of the earliest Christians without significant protests by Christians who were soberer minded and traditionalist. The difficulty of causing the explosion is enhanced by the difficulty – for the earliest Christian Jews – of the idea of regarding Jesus as a truly divine person with a crucified human body (for a detailed discussion of such difficulties, see Loke 2014).

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One might object that this argument underestimates the theological flexibility of Second Temple Jews who speculated about the deification of figures, such as the Enoch Son of Man. The objector might cite scholars such as Daniel Boyarin who have argued that at least since Daniel, there had been a Jewish tradition that saw God as doubled in the form of an old man and a younger human-like figure, sharing two equal thrones. Citing the Similitudes of Enoch as well as in 4 Ezra 13, Boyarin observes how the younger divine human was associated with the Messiah, and he argues that these texts provide strong evidence for the Jewish religious background of the divinity of Jesus (Boyarin 2013; see also Hayman 1991). In reply to such objections, it has been noted in Chapter 3 that Hurtado has argued for the serious dys-analogies of these speculations. For example, these were merely literary phenomena, not involving actual public and corporate worship by groups of people as in the case of Jesus (Hurtado 2000, 72). Instead of understanding these texts as ditheistic, they can be understood as indicating a plurality of persons within the one unique being of God the Creator (see Chapters 2 and 3). Boyarin’s arguments can be understood as demonstrating the permissibility of the idea of incarnation for a first-century Jew,2 which is an important point, but demonstrating permissibility by itself is very far from demonstrating the plausibility of a particular individual being God incarnate. We must be careful not to underestimate the difficulty of regarding a flesh-and-blood human figure as the Creator of the universe, in the context of strict Jewish monotheism which the earliest Christians held (see Chapter  3). The idea that Jesus was such a human figure (who, evidently to people who had lived with him, had to eat, drink, sleep, etc.) and yet truly divine would have been a far more difficult idea for the earliest Christian Jewish disciples (a significant number of whom had lived with him for quite some time) as well as their audiences to accept. To overcome such difficulties, Jesus must have been perceived to have claimed and showed himself to be truly divine, in order that these disciples would eventually find it acceptable (after the ‘resurrection appearances’) to come to the 2 Indeed, Boyarin (2012, 102) makes the stronger claim, on the basis of passages such as Daniel 7, that ‘the ideas of Trinity and incarnation, or certainly the germs of those ideas, were already present among Jewish believers well before Jesus came on the scene to incarnate in himself, as it were, those theological notions and take up his messianic calling.’ He fails to discuss the Holy Spirit, nevertheless the text of Daniel 7 is significant (see Chapter 3).

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widespread acknowledgement that he was truly divine. By contrast, it is much easier to speculate about long-dead human figures (e.g. Enoch) whose contemporaries were long gone, or non-human entities (e.g. Wisdom, Philo’s Logos) that were not known by eyewitnesses. Thus, there is nothing very remarkable or difficult about these speculations in comparison with the worship of Jesus by his contemporaries. Moreover, the idea that Jesus was truly divine was a very disadvantageous idea to originate and proclaim, as the doctrine of a ‘crucified God’ would be regarded by many in antiquity as a shameless impertinence and absurdity’ (Hengel 1995, 383). Crucifixion was the ultimate form of punishment during Roman times, reserved mainly for slaves and rebellious subjects (Hengel 1977). While some scholars have argued that prior to the rise of Christianity some Jews had already interpreted passages such as Isaiah 53 as indicating that the Messiah would suffer (Boyarin 2012, 129–156), it is dubious that the view of a suffering Messiah was what most Jews would readily accept during Roman times, let  alone a crucified God. While Josephus mentions a number of messianic figures in his writings (e.g. Theudas in Antiquities 20.97–98), their messianic movements ended with their deaths; there was no indication that they were expected to suffer, nor any evidence that any of them was worshipped and regarded as truly divine after their deaths. Likewise, the idea of a suffering Messiah cannot be found in the Jewish Trypho in Justin’s Dialogue. In any case, the idea of God suffering the worst form of punishment in the hands of their enemies, instead of delivering them from their enemies, would have been difficult for many Jews to accept. This must have been the experience of the earliest Christian preachers, such that Paul would label the rejection of a crucified Christ as worldly wisdom and acknowledge that the proclamation of Christ crucified was ‘a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles’ (1 Cor. 1:23). In sum, considering that the worship of another figure alongside God the Father was probably the greatest, most fundamental and a very difficult change for the earliest Christian Jews, it is hardly likely that any of these Christians would have dared to implement such an innovation while remaining deeply committed to their monotheism (which they evidently did). That is, unless they perceived that the One whom they believed to be the supreme revelation of God (superior to even the Torah of Moses) indicated that this innovation was necessary.

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6.4

The Issue of Falsification of Jesus’ Intention

It has been argued previously that, for the earliest Christians, it is important to take into account who a person thinks he was; moreover, Jesus was regarded by them as the supreme indicator of God’s will. The corollary of this is that, if those first disciples who had followed Jesus closely for some time knew as eyewitnesses that Jesus himself indicated that he was not divine, or that he did not indicate that he was truly divine, it is unlikely that they would have regarded Jesus as truly divine. Even if some of them did, it is likely that there would have been significant protests coming from many of the earliest Christians who would defend the true, simpler and safer view of Christ himself. Here, it will be helpful to adapt an argument made by Hengel. In support of the messianic consciousness and claims of the historical figure of Jesus, Hengel writes, If the eleven disciples with Peter at their head, on the basis of appearances of the resurrected Jesus … reached the view that Jesus was the Son of Man exalted to God, knowing that in reality he had been merely a simple proclaimer of the imminent kingdom of God, a rabbi and a prophet, knowing nothing at all of eschatological offices, dignities and titles, did they not then completely falsify the pure (and so unmythologically modern sounding) intention of their master? On the other hand, since human beings also had memories then (presumably very much better than our own today), why do we nowhere find a protest against this ‘messianic’ falsification of Jesus, his message and his will? Must there not have been groups in early Christianity who would have defended the true Jesus against such falsification, particularly since by means of such a protest the deadly offence of the crucified Messiah could have been eliminated? … and the impending separation from Judaism could have been avoided (removing all the contemporary difficulties of Jewish-Christian dialogue). But such a protest in favour of the true, unmessianic intention of Jesus is nowhere attested or even alluded to in early Christianity. (Hengel 1995, 14–15)3 3 See also Hengel and Schwemer (2007); contra the un-messianic historical Jesus of Bultmann (1983), Fredriksen (1988), etc. I thank Professor Hurtado for pointing out to me that the original argument was expressed earlier by Nils Dahl in his essay ‘The Crucified Messiah’ (see Dahl 1974).

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Likewise, it can be argued that, if the primitive Palestine community led by the Twelve knew that in reality Jesus had been merely a simple rabbi and a prophet and knowing nothing at all of his divine status, then their worship of him would have been a complete falsification of the pure intention of their master. In this case, why do we nowhere find a protest against this falsification of Jesus, his message and his will? Must there not have been groups in earliest Christianity who would have defended the true Jesus against such falsification, particularly since by means of such protests the offence of the crucified God could have been eliminated? But such protests in favour of the true, pure intention of Jesus are nowhere attested or even alluded to in earliest Christianity. The point here is that Hengel’s argument can be modified into an argument for Jesus’ self-understanding of his divine status, because the argument illustrates the importance – for the earliest Christians – of understanding Jesus’ self-understanding for understanding who he really was (whether Messiah or truly divine). Hengel’s argument is that it is hard to see how the disciples could have taken Jesus’ resurrection to be a validation of the claim that Jesus was the Messiah, if Jesus did not make that claim. On the contrary, they would have defended Jesus against such a falsification of his identity. But this way of reasoning can be used to argue for Jesus making a claim to be truly divine as well. That is, it is hard to see how the disciples could have taken Jesus’ resurrection to be a validation of the claim that Jesus was truly divine, if Jesus did not make that claim. On the contrary, they would have defended Jesus against such a falsification of his identity. I would like to clarify that my argument does not depend on the understanding that being Messiah  =  being truly divine. As noted in Chapter  3, Hurtado objects to Horbury’s proposal by arguing that there is no basis for this understanding in any messianic expectations in Second Temple Jewish tradition, and not even the messianic figure of 1 Enoch matches it, for no cultic devotion is given to that figure.4 It might be the case  – as Horbury would argue – that Old Testament passages such as Isa. 9:6–7 (see Chapter 3) can indeed be interpreted as affirming that the Messiah is divine, even if – as Hurtado would argue – hardly any Jews in Second Temple Jewish tradition interpreted it that way. However, the point here is that, in view of the general cautiousness of the Jews concerning giving cultic devotion to historical figures (as 4

I thank Professor Hurtado for raising the above points in personal correspondence.

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Hurtado argued) and the likelihood of the earliest Christians’ concern against falsifying the intention of Jesus, a stronger and more explicit impetus from Jesus himself would have been required to generate the widespread conviction among the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine. One might object that Jesus’ disciples held him to be Messiah (designate) during his ministry, whereas they did not seem to have regarded Jesus to be truly divine during his ministry, for it seems that the earliest Christians’ claims that Jesus was truly divine emerged only after Jesus’ execution.5 In reply, given their ancient Jewish monotheistic context, it would have been much easier for the disciples to accept Jesus as Messiah provisionally (while waiting to see if he would deliver the nation of Israel), than it was to accept that he was truly divine provisionally. The resurrection appearances, however, convinced the disciples to accept the latter along with the former (see Chapter 7). The consideration that it would have been much easier to provisionally accept someone as Messiah rather than as truly divine is supported by the fact that, although there were a number of Jewish messianic figures around the time of Jesus from the second century BCE to the second century CE, such as Judas Maccabeus (d. 160 BCE), Theudas (?–46 CE) and Simon Bar Kokhba (d. 135) (Lenowitz 1998), these were not regarded by their followers to be truly divine but merely as human agents. On the other hand, the point illustrated by Hengel’s argument, viz. the importance (for the earliest Christians) of understanding Jesus’ self-understanding for understanding who he really was (whether Messiah or truly divine) remains. Hence the need for Jesus’ claim in both cases (the conviction that Jesus was Messiah and the conviction that Jesus was truly divine). It might be objected that this argument adapted from Hengel is an argument from silence; it may be that some earliest Jesus-followers did demur against a divine Christology, but there would be little interest for NT writers to record any such disagreement or refusal to accept what they regarded as surely true.6 In response, this objection has already been addressed in Chapter  5.7 In addition to what has been said there, the following points may be added: 5 6 7

I thank Professor Hurtado for suggesting this objection in personal correspondence. I thank Professor Hurtado for suggesting this objection in personal correspondence. See also Chapter 8.

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It is true that one must be careful not to assume that the New Testament contains a complete witness to the beliefs of early Christians. Nevertheless, it is reasonable to think that, if Christ did not claim to be truly divine but a number of his earliest disciples did, there would have been widespread protests against a divine Christology from the earliest days of the Christian movement and lasting for many years, by the majority of the early Christians who regarded what Christ indicated as what God demanded, and who would stay faithful to the true, simpler and safer view of Christ himself. (This would also be a significant consideration against the possibility that the Palestinian Christians might have undergone a transformation from Adoptionism to Incarnation Christology by the time Paul wrote his letters.) Given the setting of ancient Jewish monotheism, it is likely that the earliest Jesus-followers would have demurred, and the ‘falsification of the pure intention of their master’ (to use Hengel’s words) would have stirred up significant protests from many (rather than ‘some’) of the earliest Jesus-followers. Given the Jewish setting, it is likely that the traditionalist Jewish Christians among them would have written down their protests in writing, similar to the way the condemnation of the Two Powers heresy was preserved in Jewish writings (see Chapter 3). In that case, it would have been very unlikely that we would have no first-century writing of this ‘demur’ group expressing their counter-claim preserved somewhere, while the twenty-seven first-century NT documents are somehow preserved and show no hint whatsoever of any debate with this ‘demur’ group. We should also note Bauckham’s observation that the early Christian movement (though geographically widespread) was a network of close communication, that the early Christian leaders were quite mobile, and that it is very probable that Jewish Christians travelled yearly to Jerusalem for festivals (Bauckham 2006, 32, 306), as well as the interactive dynamics (Hurtado 2013b) explained in Chapter 5. Given these considerations, it is very likely that the authors of the New Testament would have known about widespread and persistent protests by fellow Christians if there were any. Moreover, it has been explained in previous chapters that: (1) (2)

The Christian circles’ beliefs and practices reflected in the Pauline epistles are both wide and extremely early. Paul’s whole mission was under constant critique from more traditionalist Christian Jews.

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(3)

Paul had to defend his views in his epistles against these traditionalist Christian Jews concerning various important doctrinal matters (circumcision, works of the law, the propriety and rules governing Jew and Gentile eating together, etc.), in response to significant needs that had arisen among the churches. Any perceived error concerning a divine Christology would have been regarded as more fundamentally important than circumcision, works of the law etc., for there is no doctrinal error that is more serious for a religious group than worshipping the wrong God,

(4)

Thus, if there were widespread protests concerning a divine Christology, the need to address these protests would have been even more pressing than addressing issues concerning circumcision, etc. While Paul evidently regarded his views against the necessity of circumcision etc., as ‘surely true’, he nevertheless wrote down his warning about those ‘dogs’ who refused to accept his views (e.g. Phil. 3:2) and recognized the need to justify his views in his epistles. Therefore, it would have been very unlikely that Paul did not warn against the ‘low Christology-demur group’ if there were indeed such a group. We should also note the observation that Paul was brave enough to rebuke Peter (Gal. 2), as well as how ‘orthodox’ Christians throughout the centuries have been interested to record their disagreement with ‘low Christology heretics’ and to justify their views against these ‘heretics’. Given all the above considerations, it is highly likely that there would have been traces of disagreements among followers of Jesus post-Easter concerning a divine Christology reflected in the New Testament, if Jesus did not claim to be divine. But there is none. Finally, it needs to be emphasized once again that it is not accurate to say that the point being made here is based entirely on argument from silence, for as argued in Chapter 5 we do have positive evidences in the letters of Paul and in the Gospels that there was widespread agreement among the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine.

6.5

The Best Historical Explanation for a Diversity of Other Peculiar Beliefs and Practices of the Earliest Christians Is That They Originated from Jesus

In summary, Jesus himself is the best candidate for causing the ‘explosion’  – the early and widespread recognition among the

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Jewish monotheistic Christians that he was truly divine. No other person in the first century had the qualifications that he had to cause such an explosion. If there were such a person, it is most likely that the New Testament would have indicated it, as his influence on the earliest Christians would have been considerable. But there is no such indication. Even the most influential apostles such as Paul and Peter did not have the necessary qualifications; on the contrary, as shown earlier we can see traces of Christians challenging the authority of Paul and Peter concerning various doctrinal matters in the first-century Christian documents. Allison observes that No follower of Jesus, to our knowledge, ever called Paul divine or reckoned him a god. Christians did, however, say astounding things about Jesus, and that from the very beginning. The differing evaluations, I submit, had something to do with who those two people actually were. We should hold a funeral for the view that Jesus entertained no exalted thoughts about himself. (Allison 2010, 304) The conclusion that Jesus was perceived to have regarded himself as truly divine also fits well with the fact – widely recognized by New Testament scholars – that the best historical explanation for a diversity of other peculiar beliefs and practices of the earliest Christians is that these originated from Christ. Allison puts it well when he writes, Why did Christians oppose divorce? Why did they so often call God ‘Father’? Why were they so little concerned with the details of Pharisaic halakah? Why did they exhibit a strong missionary impulse? Why did they stress the imperative to love others? Why did they abandon the common belief that descent from Abraham and the keeping of Torah were necessary and sufficient for salvation? The same answer is usually returned to all of these questions as well as to many others: in these particulars the church was following Jesus. (Allison 1998, 113) In a similar vein, and in view of the arguments presented above, one ought to conclude that the best answer to the question ‘Why did the earliest Christians hold the peculiar, very difficult and very dangerous belief that Jesus was truly divine?’ is that they were following Jesus.

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6.6

It Is Likely That Jesus Was Perceived to Have Given Clear Indications That He Regarded Himself as Truly Divine by a Significant Number of Disciples

It might be objected that there are certain earliest Christian practices other than the worship of Jesus (for example, their practice of forbidding divorce) which might have been offensive to the traditionalist Jewish Christians, but concerning which traces of disagreement among the earliest Christians are absent. In reply, it can be argued that the reason why such traces are absent is because these practices also originated from Jesus. It might also be objected that there are other practices which might have originated from Jesus, but concerning which disagreements among the earliest Christians are present. In reply, it could be the case that the reason why such disagreements are present is because the indications given by Jesus concerning these practices were not as unambiguous as the indication concerning his divinity (see the proposals discussed in Chapter  7). From a historical point of view, this indication would have to be clear in its original setting to a significant number of disciples. That is, the relevant saying(s) of Jesus in the contexts which they were given to the first disciples would have to be unambiguously understood by Jesus and his audience. For if it were not so, if the indication were unclear, then in view of the fact that the worship of God is such an important matter, we would have expected extensive discussions and debates among the earliest Christians concerning the divinity of Jesus and the implication of these unclear saying(s), rather than widespread agreement about Jesus’ divine status. The requirement that this indication would have to be clear in its original setting to a significant number of disciples, together with the importance and the regularity of the worship of God for the earliest Christians, makes it unlikely that Jesus was misheard, misunderstood or misremembered. (Another reason against the plausibility of the unevidenced hypothesis that the worship of Jesus arose without extensive discussion and debate as a result of Jesus being misheard, misunderstood or misremembered by his contemporaries is that there is no example of such a case in the entire history of Second Temple Judaism and the subsequent history of Judaism. See further, Chapter 8.)

Is My Proposal too Christocentric? 6.7

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The Role of Early Christian Thinking About Intermediary Figures

It might be objected that my proposal, which claims that the highest Christology of the earliest Christians originated from Jesus, ignores the fact that the early Christian thinking about intermediaries such as Spirit, Word or Wisdom (discussed in previous chapters) had some role to play in the formation of earliest Christology. In response, my proposal does allow a role for such thinking. However, according to my proposal, the role that such thinking played was not in the origination of highest Christology, but in the formulation of it. To be more precise, it is not the case that highest Christology arose out of speculations by Paul or other earliest Christians concerning these intermediaries (for if it were, we would have expected hints of dissent from the traditionalist Jewish Christians in the New Testament, rather than widespread agreement). Rather, the earliest Christians (1)  modified the language that had been used in earlier literature to describe these intermediaries and (2) utilized the modified language to express the highest Christology that came from Jesus. 6.8

Is My Proposal too Christocentric Rather than Theocentric?

Hurtado might object that my argument is too Christo-centric rather than Theo-centric, for is it not the case that it was the earliest Christians’ perception of God’s demands that resulted in their worship of Jesus? Hurtado argues that John 5:19–23 insists that Jesus’ status and authority are given to him by ‘the Father’, who now requires that ‘all may honour the Son just as they honour the Father’. I  propose that this passage reflects the sort of apologia that early Christians gave to justify their devotion to Jesus: God requires it of them. Likewise, I have proposed that Philippians 2:9–11 reflects a novel early Christian exegesis of Isaiah 45:22–25, which gives the rationale to believers and unbelievers for reverencing Jesus as Kyrios (and here too the basis is God’s own exaltation of him). (Hurtado 2010a, 18)

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Hurtado also argues that the typical way that reverence of Jesus is justified in various NT texts is to invoke God’s action of exalting him and requiring that he be reverenced, as exhibited in Jesus’ resurrection and exaltation, and not in claims or demands made by Jesus. He cites as examples Phil. 2:9–11, 1 Cor. 15:20–28, Heb. 1:1–4, Acts 2:36 and John 5:22–23 (Hurtado 2014c). Hurtado argues that within the NT believers’ experiences of the risen Jesus were occasions for new revelatory insights into biblical texts (e.g. as dramatized in the Luke 24 narratives), and that visions of the exalted Jesus factored in early Christian circles. Nevertheless, Hurtado agrees with Wright that, while belief in the resurrection of Jesus was an important factor, by itself it is insufficient. He writes But resurrection, by itself, didn’t suffice for the latter conviction or the devotional practice in question. For that, a ‘glorification’ of Jesus seems to me to have been necessary, a glorification understood as by God and requiring that Jesus be reverenced. So, given that my own work was focused on trying to examine the eruption of the dyadic devotional pattern reflected already in Paul’s letters, I hope that it’s clear why I’ve underscored the ‘glorification’ of Jesus and not simply (so to speak) his resurrection. The two were obviously linked for earliest believers, but we should avoid collapsing either into the other. (Hurtado 2014c) In what way, then, does Hurtado think that this ‘glorification’ of Jesus by God was perceived by the disciples of Jesus? Evidently, in the kind of religious experiences mentioned in Hurtado (2003; 2005) and discussed in Chapter 5. I agree with Hurtado that the worship of Jesus indeed arose because the earliest Christians perceived that God demanded this. The crucial question, however, is how would the earliest Christians have answered the question ‘How are God’s demands known?’? They would have answered, ‘primarily and supremely through Jesus’. The earliest Christians evidently regarded Jesus as the supreme communicator of God’s will. Thus, they would have all agreed that Jesus was a superior source for understanding God’s demands compared to other sources such as – as Hurtado has proposed – subjective visions, inspired/spontaneous utterances, ‘charismatic exegeses’ of Old Testament texts, the preachers’ interpretation of biblical texts, etc. I have noted in Chapter 5 that there was considerable suspicion

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of claims to authority via subjective visions etc., within Jewish and early Christian sources. Hurtado himself observes that Although Paul encourages prophecy (and by numerous believers) in the congregational setting, he also urges that every prophecy be weighed by others (l Cor. 14:29). 1 John 4:1–6 exhorts readers to ‘test the spirits to see whether they are from God’ … the standard against which 1 John insists that pneumatic claims be judged, the Christological claims affirmed, comprise what was itself a new revelation that came at ‘the beginning’ (1:1; 2:20–25) of the religious movement out of which this text was written. (Hurtado 2010a, 13–14) Hurtado’s citation of 1 John 1:1 is noteworthy; the passage appeals to the Jesus whom the author and others claimed to have heard, seen and touched, and Hurtado thinks that the author of 1 John insists that this is the standard against which pneumatic claims be judged. This implies that eyewitness testimonies of Jesus had higher authority than charismatic experiences. Hence, the proposal that the worship of Jesus originated from Jesus – as witnessed by a sizeable group of earliest Christians – has greater explanatory power compared to the proposal that the worship of Jesus originated from those kinds of religious experiences which Hurtado suggests. It is also noteworthy that the words in John 5:19–23, which are cited by Hurtado, are portrayed to have come from Jesus’ lips. While this passage, as well as Phil. 2:9–11 etc., conveys the idea that honouring Jesus is in accordance with the will of God the Father (and therefore does not detract from glorifying God the Father), this idea is compatible with the proposal that the ‘will of God the Father’ was originally known through the lips of Jesus, which God then vindicated by raising Jesus from the dead. We need to consider how the earliest Christians would have answered questions such as ‘How do we know that God has exalted Jesus and required that he be reverenced?’ ‘How do we know that God has given Jesus the name above every name (Phil. 2:9), etc.?’ I  have argued that the best answer is ‘Jesus gave indications to that effect, and the resurrection appearances were understood by the earliest Christians to be God’s vindication of Jesus’ claims.’ This would explain how their highest Christology could be held without any discussion or disagreement from even the more traditionalist Jewish Christians (cf. Dunn 2008, 579–580), because being Christians they would all have agreed that what Christ indicated was what ‘God’ demanded.

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It is true that Phil. 2:9–11 etc. portray a new act of God involving Jesus’ resurrection and exaltation and convey the idea that honouring Jesus is in accordance with the will of God the Father. However, this is compatible with the proposal that the ‘will of God the Father’ was originally known through the lips of Jesus, and which (they thought) God vindicated by a ‘new act’ after Jesus’ humiliation on the cross, i.e. by the act of raising Jesus from the dead and thus removing the humiliation. In other words, the act is ‘new’ in the sense of removing the humiliation. For the earliest Christians, Christ was already truly divine even before all things existed (Phil. 2:6; 1 Cor. 8:6); this implies that the ‘new act of God’ should not be understood as making Jesus ontologically divine at his exaltation after his crucifixion. Rather, it should be understood as functional enhancement, which occurred after the functional subordination of ‘obedience unto death’ (Phil. 2:8), as explained in previous chapters. By the ‘new act’, God made known what has been true eternally about Jesus (Fowl 2005, 104–105). This functional enhancement is not incompatible with ascribing to the earthly Jesus a knowledge and claim of ontological divine status. One might object by appealing to Matt. 28:16–20, which portrays the risen Jesus as claiming that he has been given authority; he makes the claim as the one exalted by God, the one on whom God has now conferred this status. Does this not imply that the exaltation of Jesus rests on the earliest Christians’ understanding of what God demands?8 In reply, I agree that the exaltation of Jesus rests on the earliest Christians’ understanding of what God demands. However, I have argued on the basis of various historical considerations that the best explanation for how the earliest Christians came to a widespread agreement about this understanding is that they perceived that Jesus indicated to them that this was God’s demand. Other ‘religious experiences’ could have been perceived by the earliest Christians as providing further information about who Jesus was. However, as argued in Chapter 5, such experiences by themselves would have been insufficient for generating widespread agreement among the earliest Christians, and the involvement of the perception of Jesus’ claims would have been a necessary condition. Even the statement in Matt. 28:16–20 – ‘All authority has been given to me …’ – is portrayed to have come from Jesus himself! It is significant that, in this passage, the will of God is portrayed to have been communicated ‘through Jesus’ 8

I thank Professor Hurtado for mentioning this objection in private conversation.

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rather than through charismatic exegeses etc.:  Jesus was portrayed as the one who was making the claim ‘All authority has been given to me …’ Thus, instead of being counter-evidence to my proposal, Matt. 28:16–20 is actually consistent with my proposal that the earliest Christians perceived that the will of God concerning the status of Jesus (whether functional or ontological) came from Jesus himself. As argued previously in Chapter 4 in response to Adoptionism, ‘all authority has been given to me …’ can be understood as an enhancement of functional status rather than an enhancement of ontological status. The ontological claim to be truly divine is implied by Matthew’s portray of Jesus’ subsequent command to his disciples to baptize others ‘in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’ (28:19, see Section 7.3.3). In summary, the main disagreement between Hurtado’s proposal and mine does not concern the conclusion that it was the earliest Christians’ perception of God’s demands that resulted in their worship of Jesus (both of us are agreed on that). Rather, it concerns the issue of how the earliest Christians would have come to agree that it was indeed God’s demand. He proposes that it was through visions, charismatic exegeses, etc., but I  have already argued why this proposal is inadequate, and why ‘through Jesus’ is a better answer. 6.9

Conclusion

In this chapter, I have argued that the best explanation for the origin of divine Christology is that it was perceived to have come from Jesus. The earliest Christians were evidently concerned about passing on the traditions of Jesus’ teachings. Moreover, the difficulty of the idea of regarding a human Jesus as also truly divine, and the issue of falsification of Jesus’ intention, makes it unlikely that divine Christology originated from the earliest Christians. Rather, it is more likely that it originated from the person whom the earliest Christians believed to be the supreme revelation of God. This conclusion is only to be expected, given that it is widely acknowledged by historical-critical scholars that Christ is the best historical explanation for a diversity of other peculiar beliefs and practices of the earliest Christians. To account for the lack of discussion and disagreement among the earliest Christians concerning the divine status of Jesus, Jesus must have given clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine to a significant number of disciples. The early Christians subsequently utilized Jewish thinking

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about intermediaries to express the Christology which they perceived to have come from Jesus. Some (e.g. Hurtado) might object that my proposal is too Christocentric rather than Theocentric. In reply, I agree that highest Christology arose because the earliest Christians thought that it was God’s will (thus my proposal is Theocentric in this sense). Nevertheless, I  argue that the best explanation for ‘how the earliest Christians could have come to the widespread agreement that it was God’s will’ is that they perceived that God’s will was known through Christ. We shall assess whether there is evidence of this in the Gospels in Chapter 7.

7 ASSESSING THE EVIDENCES FOR THE ORIGIN OF HIGHEST CHRISTOLOGY IN THE GOSPELS

7.1

Introduction

In previous chapters, I  have argued that the earliest Christians regarded Jesus as truly divine, and that there are various reasons for thinking that the best explanation for this widely held conviction is that they thought that Jesus himself indicated it. Nevertheless, one might ask ‘Is there any hint in the Gospels that Jesus gave a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine?’ In what follows, I  shall assess the evidences in the Gospels. The literature on the Christology of the Gospels is huge, and it is beyond the scope of this chapter to cover all the details, hence I shall limit my discussion to those issues that are of importance for the topic of this book. I shall first discuss a number of passages in the Gospels that have been cited by those who thought that Jesus denied his divinity. I shall then discuss those passages that have been cited by others who thought that Jesus affirmed his divinity. 7.2

Counter-Evidence in the Gospels?

Against the conclusion that Jesus regarded himself as divine, some have argued that certain passages in the Gospels portray Jesus denying his divinity. For example, Jesus’ reply to the question ‘Good teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’, viz. ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone’ (Mark 10:18), has been interpreted by John Hick as a denial of divinity (Hick 1993, 27). So-called ‘heretics’ throughout the centuries have argued that Jesus’ cry on the cross – ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Mark 15:34) – implies that he did not regard himself as divine. However, many historical-critical scholars have observed that these passages can be interpreted in other ways which do not imply a denial of divinity. For example, in the first passage, Gathercole 153

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argues that, by saying ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone’, Jesus is not necessarily denying that he is good. Rather, it could be the case that Jesus is trying to make the man examine his standard of goodness, to realize that only God is good (therefore the man is not), and that calling Jesus good has the implication of affirming that Jesus is divine, an implication which should lead to an obedience to Jesus’ instruction (not found in the Torah) to sell everything and follow him (Mark 10:21). Hence, it could be the case that Jesus’ contrast between himself and God in verse 18 is only a temporary rhetorical strategy, and that in Mark 10:18–21 Jesus is in fact making a subtle, implicit claim to solidarity with God and his goodness (Gathercole 2006, 74). Such an interpretation is how this passage has traditionally been understood. As Brown observes, ‘A frequent patristic understanding is that Jesus was trying to lead the man to a perception of his divinity, i.e., showing the man what he unconsciously (but correctly) implied when he addressed Jesus as good’ (Brown 1994, 174).1 It should be noted that this traditional interpretation would not necessarily be inconsistent with the view of the author of Mark, for it is arguable that all the Gospels (including Mark) treat Jesus as divine even if this divinity is expressed in different ways (Brown 1994, 123 n.184; see Grindheim 2011). The difference in Matthew’s account concerning the man’s question (‘Teacher, what good thing must I  do to get eternal life?’) and Jesus’ answer (‘Why do you ask me about what is good?’ Matt. 19:17) does not necessarily imply that Matthew understood Mark as implying that Jesus was not good. Rather, Bock observes well when he proposes it could be the case the Matthew was concerned that Mark’s account might be misunderstood as suggesting unrighteousness in Jesus, and that Matthew wanted to emphasize the thrust of the man’s question (the man was concerned about soteriology rather than Christology) as well as preserve Jesus’ emphasis on God and his goodness (Bock 2002, 302–303). Concerning Jesus’ cry on the cross, this can be understood in accordance with Jesus’ role as a human, which does not necessarily 1 Against this traditional interpretation, Brown replies ‘It is difficult not to think that such an exegesis is motivated by an apologetic concern for protecting the divinity of Jesus’ (Brown 1994, 174). Such a remark, however, is not an argument against the plausibility of this exegesis. In the context of the present dialectic, the objector who raises the argument against the conclusion of previous chapters by claiming Mark 10:18 as evidence would need to bear the burden of proof to exclude the traditional interpretation, but this has not been accomplished.

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imply a denial that he was divine. The idea that Jesus being divine also had a human role was already present in the earliest Christian documents, viz. the Pauline epistles. As explained in Chapter 4, Paul evidently thought that, in respect of his human role, Jesus had a God, viz. God the Father. ‘Forsaken’ does not necessarily imply an ontological disruption within the being of God, i.e. between the Father and the Son. Rather, it could indicate a broken fellowship between the Persons of the Godhead: This was the cost of the Son providing ‘a ransom for many’ (Mark 10:45) (Lane 1974, 573). The cry of dereliction should be seen as the final episode in the incarnate Son’s total identification of himself with the lost human condition; it is the cry of an Israelite expressing the self-distancing of that people from God as the result of their sin, the completion of Jesus’ identification with Israel which started at his baptism (Gunton 2003, 131). The ‘why’ in Mark 15:34 does not necessarily imply that Jesus did not know the reason for his forsakenness. Rather, it can be understood as an indication that Jesus was a righteous sufferer who suffered what he did not deserve (Edwards 2002, 476, observing that Ps. 22, the psalm of the righteous sufferer, reverberates throughout the crucifixion account [Ps. 22.1  =  Mark 15:34; Ps. 22:7  =  Mark 15:29, Ps. 22:18 = Mark 15:24]). Throughout the centuries, there have been various individuals who have argued that certain passages in John’s Gospel portray Jesus as denying a high Christology, and that this Christology was also denied by the author of John’s Gospel. Regardless of the historicity of these passages, they became important in later theological debates, and they have also been used by some historical-critical scholars to argue against the proposal defended in this book. Therefore, they are of sufficient interest for us to consider here. In the fourth century, Arius argued that, although Christ was undoubtedly θεὸς according to John 1, he was distinct from the Father, and this distinction was made more specific in John 17:3, which Arius interpreted as affirming that, in distinction from the Son, only God the Father is to be regarded as the sole veritable God (Wiles 1996, 12). In support of this line of thought, others have cited ‘For just as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself’ (John 5:26 NRSV) (Wiles 1996, 82). In more recent years James McGrath has argued that in the first-century Jewish monotheistic context, the author of the Fourth Gospel can call Jesus ‘God’ yet still refer to the Father as the only true God, i.e. of a higher ontological status (J. McGrath 2009, 64–68). In a similar vein, Hooker

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argues that John makes it quite clear that the Word, or Jesus, stands over against God: In John 1:1 the declaration that the Word was God is sandwiched between two statements that ‘the Word was with God’, and Jesus declares that he is ascending ‘to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God’ (20:17). Furthermore, Hooker notes that Jesus declares ‘My Father is greater than I’ (14:28) and argues that the relationship between Father and Son is one of dependence on the Son’s part: ‘the Son can do nothing of his own accord, but only what he sees the Father doing’ (5:19); ‘my teaching is not mine, but his who sent me’ (7:16) (Hooker 1993, 80–82). Additionally, Yarbro Collins argues that the Gospel of John’s depiction of the Logos as the means or instrument of God’s creation of all things implies an identification of the Logos with Wisdom, but Prov. 8:22 (LXX) states that God created Wisdom (Yarbro Collins 2008, 64). I shall begin my response to these arguments by considering the beginning of John’s Gospel. What the phrase ‘the Word was with God’ indicates is that God the Father is a different person from the Word. This does not imply that the Word was a separate being from the Father, and neither does it imply that the Word was of a lesser status.2 On the contrary, the beginning of the Gospel states that the Word was divine and Creator of all (John 1:1–3), and the end of the Gospel indicates that he was of the same divine status as YHWH (John 20:28–29; see further Section 7.3.3). Concerning the word Logos (‘Word’), Keener (2003, 333–363) explains that John’s choice of the Logos (embracing also Wisdom and Torah) to articulate his Christology was brilliant; no concept better articulated an entity that was both divine and distinct from the Father. By this term, some Diaspora Jewish writers had already connected Jewish conceptions of Wisdom and Torah with Hellenistic conceptions of a divine and universal power. Finally, by using this term John could present Jesus as the epitome of what his community’s opponents claimed to value:  God’s word revealed through Moses. Jesus was thus the supreme revelation of God; the Torah had gone forth from Zion. (Keener 2003, 363) 2 In John 1:1c ‘The Word was God (θεὸς)’, the absence of the definite article for θεὸς does not imply that the Word was divine but not truly divine. Rather, as Dunn observes, it may simply indicate that θεὸς, though preceding the verb, is the predicate and not the subject (Dunn 2010, 134 n.91, noting that the definite article is used for θεὸς in Thomas’s confession of Jesus as θεὸς in John 20:28).

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Arius’ argument concerning John 17:3 ignores this overall context of the Gospel of John. It also ignores the ‘I AM’ sayings in the Gospel, which alludes to YHWH’s self-reference in the Old Testament (e.g. Isa. 43:10) and implies that John’s Gospel portrays Jesus claiming to be of the same divine status as YHWH. This is especially true of the ‘I AM’ in John 8:58–59, where the Jewish opposition indicates that it is understood as a claim to be truly divine which they refuse to believe (Ball 1996, 276–278; Keener 2003, 69–772). Hence, in view of the overall context of John’s Gospel and the prominent ‘I AM’ sayings, John 17:3 should not be interpreted as implying that Jesus had a lower status compared to the Father. Thus, Jesus’ use of the adjectives ‘only true’ (μόνον ἀληθινὸν) for God in John 17:3 should be understood as contrasting the Father not with himself, but with other claimants to deity, the false gods that the Gentiles invented and worshipped (Erickson 1998a, 714). This interpretation is consistent with the observation that these adjectives are often used for YHWH in opposition to Gentile idols in biblical writings (e.g. 1 Thess. 1:9) (Brown 1967, vol.2, 741; Brown observes that ‘one’ (or ‘only’) and ‘true’ are traditional attributes of God: ‘one’ in Isa. 37:20, John 8:44; ‘true’ in Exod. 34:6, Rev. 6:10). This interpretation also fits the immediate context in John 17, i.e. Jesus had authority over all peoples (v.2), and the knowledge of God the Father and Jesus Christ (unlike the knowledge of false gods invented by other peoples) is eternal life (v.3). The rest of the objections can all be addressed by the notion that the divine Word possessed a human role in respect of his flesh – a notion implied by the phrase ‘the Word became flesh’ (John 1:14), which should be regarded as a crucial hermeneutical key to the problematic passages3 – as well as the notion of functional subordination between persons of the Godhead discussed in previous chapters. As explained earlier with reference to Mark 15:34, Jesus’ acknowledgement of God the Father as his God in passages such as John 20:17 can be understood in accordance with his role as a human. That is, in respect of his human role, Jesus had a God, viz. God the Father, understood as a divine person within the being of YHWH who exercised a fatherly role with respect to Jesus and Israel, and by whom

3 Such a clear differentiation between those things which referred to Christ’s humanity and those which referred to his divinity was the standard method of interpreting theological texts of the Gospels in the controversies of the fifth century (Pollard 1970, 238).

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YHWH can be identified (see the distinction between ‘identified by’ and ‘identified with’ discussed in Chapter 2). In the Gospel of John, YHWH is identified by the Father in passages such as John 4:20–24, 8:41, 54. As explained in Chapter  2, saying that YHWH is identified by the Father does not necessarily imply that YHWH = Father (i.e. Unitarianism). In the context of John’s Gospel, it should not be taken to imply that YHWH = Father, because this would contradict the Johannine passages which affirm that the Son is also within the being of YHWH (as indicated by John 20:28, the ‘I AM’ sayings, etc.). Thompson observes that the Father and Son are not two independent and separate Gods, for within the monotheistic framework of Judaism and early Christianity, a framework clearly shared by the author of John’s Gospel, the attributes of God belong solely to one God. Hence, there must be the closest possible unity between the Father and the Son without a collapsing of their identities into one (Thompson 2001, 232–235). In answer to the charge that he was breaking the Sabbath and making himself equal with God by calling God his own Father (John 5:17–18), Jesus’ assertion of the unity of his action with that of the Father’s can be seen as a denial that he was acting autonomously in what he did and claimed. Jesus’ dependence on the Father as the God-man can be understood as an act of functional subordination (John 5:19, see also 5:26, 30; 6:57; 7:16). Concerning John 5:26 (‘For just as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself’ NRSV), the ‘life in himself’ is not referring to the life of Jesus, rather it is referring to the creative life-giving power exercised towards human beings (Brown 1966, vol.1, 215). Thus, this verse does not imply that the Son was a creature who was given life by God (this would contradict John 1:1–3; 8:58; 20:28; see Thompson 2001, 91, 224–225).4 Rather it is saying that God the Father has allowed Jesus to have the power to give spiritual life to human beings. This is consistent with the functional subordination of Jesus. As explained in Chapter  4, this subordination includes allowing God the Father the right to determine the role Jesus should play, including the salvific role he should play with respect to human beings. Such a functional subordination does not imply ontological subordination. 4 Hodge suggests the alternative explanation that this verse is saying that the constitution of the Son as God-man was formed by the will of the Father, i.e. the Father was the one who sent the Word into the world to constitute the God-man, such that he should have a human as well as a divine nature possessed of inherent life in order that he might be the source of life to his people (Hodge 1872, vol.2, 392–394).

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As Keener comments, ‘From John’s standpoint, Jesus is fully deity (1:1, 18; 20:28), but he also submits to the Father, whose rank is greater than his own (10:29; 14:28)’ (Keener 2003, 648). Reading ‘my Father is greater than I (14:28)’ together with Jesus’ statement, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him’ (13:16), it can be seen that the Father is greater in the sense that he was the one who sent the Son into the world. This fits the context of 14:28 (i.e. it is to the Father that Jesus is going, because he came from the Father) (Thompson 2001, 94). Acting according to the functional role of being sent in the economy of salvation does not imply that the Son is ontologically inferior to the Father. As for Yarbro Collins’s argument, it has been shown in previous chapters that there is no adequate basis for interpreting Prov. 8:22 as implying that Wisdom was a creature separate from God. In any case, Hurtado observes that the author of John’s Gospel could have modified terms and categories they inherit from their ‘parent’ traditions, just as many other new religious movements did, for the purpose of expressing and commending the convictions of the movement. In modifying the term Logos, the author of John’s Gospel does not intend to convey that Logos is Wisdom or that Logos is created; rather, he intends to convey beyond what was previously affirmed in the Word, Wisdom or divine name traditions. This can be seen, for example, by his claim that ‘the Word was God’ and that ‘the Word became flesh’ (Hurtado 2003, 366–367). In summary, while some have thought that certain passages in the Gospels (e.g. Mark 10:18, John 17:3) portray Jesus as denying his divinity, other historical-critical scholars have shown that these passages can be interpreted in alternative ways which do not imply a denial of divinity.5 7.3

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7.3.1

Introduction

On the other hand, is there any hint in the Gospels that Jesus gave a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine? To begin, it should be noted that, for my proposal to be successful, whether the indication happened ‘pre-resurrection’ or ‘post-resurrection’ does not matter; all that matters is that the indication 5

For other relevant passages, see Bock (2002); Gathercole (2006).

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was perceived to have come from Jesus. That is, either ‘Jesus was perceived to claim to be truly divine pre-resurrection’ or ‘Jesus was perceived to claim to be truly divine post-resurrection’, coupled with the earliest Christians’ belief in Jesus’ resurrection, would have triggered widespread highest Christology among them, and I am open to either possibility. In his groundbreaking book The Resurrection of the Son of God, N. T. Wright argues that the empty tomb and the resurrection appearances ‘took place as real events … they are, in the normal sense required by historians, provable events; historians can and should write about them’ (Wright 2003, 709). Against the view that ‘pre-resurrection’ Jesus is ‘historical’ while ‘post-resurrection’ Jesus is ‘interpreted’, Jens Schröter argues that this dichotomy is false, for everything we say about the past is interpreted (Schröter 2014, 201). Schröter’s position is consistent with critical realism, which is affirmed in Chapter 1. It is beyond the scope of this book to discuss in detail whether the ‘resurrection appearances’ are veridical; to do this would require another monograph. (I think that a good case can be made given the failure of alternative explanations; for a logically exhaustive list of alternative explanations, see Loke 2009;6 6 A simplified version of the argument in the first part of the paper which lists all the possible explanations for the fact, established on the basis of historical evidences by Wright et al. that there were people in the mid first century who claimed to have witnessed the resurrected Jesus, is as follows:

(1)

(2) (3)

(4)

(5)

Either the people who claimed that they had witnessed the resurrected Jesus did not have any such experience (False Testimonies Hypothesis), or They did have such experiences, in which case either Their experiences were caused intra-mentally, e.g. hallucinations (Intra-mental Hypothesis), or Their experiences were caused extra-mentally, in which case either The extra-mental ‘Jesus’ was not Jesus, e.g. they mistook another person for Jesus (Mistaken Identity Hypothesis), or The extra-mental ‘Jesus’ they experienced was indeed Jesus, in which case either Jesus did not die on the cross (Swoon/Escape Hypothesis: Either Jesus was not crucified but had secretly escaped prior to the crucifixion, somebody else (whom everyone else thought was Jesus) was crucified in his place, and Jesus showed himself to the disciples later (Escape); or Jesus was crucified but didn’t die but merely swooned (Swoon)), or Jesus did die on the cross, which implies Jesus rose from the dead.

I have previously  explained in Loke (2009) that all the alternative naturalistic explanations can be shown to fail once certain evidentially significant details in the Gospels are established. I now think that all the alternative naturalistic explanations can be shown to fail even without having to establish those evidentially significant details. Rather, the kinds of considerations discussed in Habermas (2001), Wright

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see also Habermas 2001; Swinburne 2003; Wright 2003; Licona 2010 and the discussion on ‘miracles’ in Section 7.3.2 and Chapter 8 of this book). Instead, on the basis of the considerations discussed in previous chapters concerning what kind of experience is required to produce a widespread conviction among the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine, I shall assess whether there are hints of such experiences in the Gospels, ‘pre-’ or ‘post-resurrection’. Against the possibility that Jesus claimed to be truly divine ‘pre-resurrection’, it might be argued that the earliest Christians’ ‘high’ claims about Jesus emerged only after Jesus’ execution, i.e. they emerged ‘post-resurrection’.7 Concerning the term προσκυνέω, which is used of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels, Hurtado writes So, whereas Mark uses the term προσκυνέω solely in two ironic scenes where Jesus is reverenced by demons and his tormentors, and Luke uses the term solely to characterize the reverence given to the risen Jesus, Matthew repeatedly employs προσκυνέω to describe the homage given by disciples and supplicants (and by them alone) to the earthly Jesus. But, in this programmatic use of the verb, ‘Matthew’ was not simply slipping accidentally into anachronism. Instead, whether used to portray the ‘adoring petition’ of supplicants (8:2; 9:18; 15:25; 20:20) or the worshipful acclamation by the Magi (2:2–11) and disciples (14:33), προσκυνέω manifests the Evangelist’s aim to make these accounts ‘accessible to the believing congregation,’ the characteristic setting in which the original readers themselves would have reverenced the risen Jesus as Lord. (Hurtado 2005, 148) Hurtado insists that his interpretation of Matthew does not imply that Matthew committed historical distortion. He writes This Evangelist rather consistently portrays Jesus’ disciples and those who approached him for favors as offering him reverence that was almost certainly to be seen by readers as prefiguring their own ‘post-Easter’ devotional practice. This is particularly obvious in Matthew’s repeated use of

(2003), Swinburne (2003), Habermas and Licona (2004) and Licona (2010) would be sufficient. 7 I thank Professor Hurtado for mentioning this objection in personal correspondence.

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In reply, one can question Hurtado’s interpretation of Matthew; in any case, granting his view that the earliest Christians’ ‘high’ claims about Jesus emerged only after Jesus’ execution, this does not imply that Jesus did not claim to be truly divine ‘pre-resurrection’. For it can be argued that Jesus did claim to be truly divine ‘pre-resurrection’ but this was not widely accepted by his disciples until after the resurrection appearances. This is understandable, for given their Jewish monotheistic faith, it would have been much harder for them to believe that a flesh-and-blood figure was also truly divine than to believe that he was (say) a human Messiah. The resurrection appearances, however, were the final pieces of evidences which caused them to believe that God had vindicated Jesus’ ‘pre-resurrection’ claims through the miraculous resurrection. The above explanation is not special pleading because there is an independent reason to support it, viz. their Jewish monotheistic faith given which it would have been very hard for them to believe initially that Jesus was God incarnate. Indeed, in the ancient Jewish setting it would have been reasonable for them to remain unconvinced by any such claims, until and unless something utterly astonishing (such as ‘Jesus’ resurrection’) happened. Meanwhile they were waiting to see whether Jesus would restore the kingdom of Israel, and the Gospels indicated that under such circumstances the disciples did not understand other things as well (e.g. that the Son of Man was going to be killed [Mark 9:32]). Thus it seems that the above explanation is not unlikely. In short, given the Jewish monotheistic context of the first disciples, it would have been initially difficult for them to accept Jesus as truly divine even if he had made the claim and did certain ‘miracles’ (see Section 7.3.4). This explanation is falsifiable; for example, it would be falsified if it can be shown that the disciples had given up their monotheism. However, as Hurtado has written,

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To state something that hardly requires argumentation, in the setting of first-century Jewish society, the profound commitment to the exclusive worship of the one God and an equally profound antipathy toward deification of humans make it most improbable that either Jesus’ followers or those Jews who approached him for help offered what they would have intended as ‘worship’ of him as divine. (Hurtado 2005, 149) It should be noted that the proposal that Jesus was perceived to claim to be truly divine ‘pre-resurrection’ does not exclude the possibility that Jesus was perceived to claim to be truly divine ‘again’ ‘post-resurrection’ (as portrayed, for example, in Matt. 28:16–20, see Section 7.3.3). Likewise, a ‘post-resurrection’ scene in which Jesus was portrayed to claim to be truly divine does not exclude the possibility that he had been perceived to claim to be truly divine ‘pre-resurrection’. The reasoning behind the above two statements is that we need to consider the possibility that Jesus could have claimed to be divine multiple times, ‘pre-’ and ‘post-resurrection’. Given that his first disciples must have found it very difficult to believe that a human Jesus was also truly divine, it is not unreasonable to think that they would need to have perceived repeated indications from Jesus himself, together with evidences of Jesus’ true divinity, before they could come to a widespread agreement that Jesus was indeed truly divine. Allison observes that, although the maxim that the Jesus of history proclaimed not himself but the kingdom is familiar to critical scholars, this corresponds to the Jesus tradition only after scholars have excised large portions of it (Allison 2010, 226–231). As will be shown below, a number of historical-critical scholars have cited ‘pre-resurrection’ passages in the Gospels in which Jesus is portrayed as indicating that he is truly divine. While the Synoptic Jesus’ sayings often redirect and/or deflect questions concerning his own identity, these scholars have claimed that there are quite a number of exceptions. In addition, I shall explain below that there are also passages in the Gospels which portray Jesus claiming to be truly divine ‘post-resurrection’ (e.g. Matt. 28:19; John 20:28–29). Many have raised objections concerning the historicity and relevance of these ‘pre-’ and ‘post’-resurrection passages. In reply, I  shall address the historicity issue after discussing the possible christological relevance of these passages. It is beyond the scope of this book to explain all

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the proposals in detail, and only brief summaries will be provided in what follows. 7.3.2

Pre-Resurrection Passages

N. T. Wright has argued that Certainly without the personal impact of Jesus himself it is impossible seriously to imagine anyone inventing the christology which was already in place by the mid-50s. Many have stressed in the last generation the point that would be obvious to the naked eye had it not been so obscured in the Bultmann school … But this still requires an account of how Jesus’ teaching might have been heard and understood among Jews of his place and time, and how the early church found a matrix of thought within which to interpret what it remembered about him. (Wright 2013, 649) Some of the proposals concerning how the ‘pre-resurrection’ Jesus’ teachings and actions might have been understood as indicative of highest Christology include: (1) The proposal of Wright himself. Wright thinks that the reasons the earliest Christians had for their conviction that Jesus was divine was linked to their perception of Jesus’ self-understanding. Wright argues that the attention of the discussion concerning Jesus’ self-understanding ought to be focused on the theme of the return of YHWH and the topics of the Temple and Torah. He argues that Jesus understood his vocation as him embodying in his journey to Jerusalem and what he would do there the long-promised and long-awaited action of YHWH (Wright 1996, ch.13; Wright 2002). He argues that first-century Jews had the idea of incarnation in terms of the temple, which had as its whole raison d’être the dwelling of Israel’s God in the midst of his people, and that Jesus was acting as a one-man temple-substitute (Wright 2002, 56–57). Concerning the Torah, Wright argues that Jesus took upon himself the role not merely of a new Moses, or a new Torah, but a new Torah-giver (Wright 1996, 646–647). He writes Jesus was not lightly setting Torah aside, as a false prophet urging people to abandon their ancient loyalties and embrace new ones … He was claiming, once more, to be

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inaugurating the new age in Israel’s history, to which the Mosaic law pointed but for which it was not adequate … he acted and spoke as if he were in some sense the replacement for Torah, or even the one who had authority over Torah itself. (Wright 2002, 58) As for the significance of Jesus’ resurrection, Wright explains, The resurrection and ascension proved, first and foremost, that Jesus was indeed the Messiah. This meant, at once, that his death had to be regarded in some fashion as a victory, not a defeat, whereupon all Jesus’ cryptic sayings about the meaning of his death fell into place. Within that, again very quickly, the earliest Christians came to see that what had been accomplished in Jesus’ death and resurrection, as the decisive climax to his public career of kingdom-inauguration, was indeed the victory of YHWH over the last enemies, sin and death. And with that they could no longer resist the sense, backed up again by Jesus’ cryptic sayings, that in dealing with him they were dealing with the living – and dying – embodiment of YHWH himself, Israel’s God in person … The worship of Jesus in early Jewish Christianity, a worship which was not perceived as flouting monotheism but as discerning its inner heart, was indeed, as is now more regularly seen, the beginnings of Christian thinking about Jesus. But that worship was simply discerning, in the Jewish categories that he had himself made thematic, what lay at the heart of the vocation and self-understanding of Jesus himself. (Wright 2002, 60–61; see also Wright 2003, 393–398, 571–577, 731–736) In Wright’s more recent writings, he has modified his proposal by suggesting that ‘the resurrection, demonstrating the truth of Jesus’ pre-crucifixion messianic claim, joined up with the expectation of YHWH’s return on the one hand and the presence of the spirit of Jesus on the other to generate a fresh reading of ‘messianic’ texts [in the OT] which enabled a full christological awareness to dawn on the disciples’ (Wright 2013, 692). That is, ‘the early Christians believed that Israel’s one God had returned in person. In the person of Jesus’ (Wright 2013, 654). The suggestion that the affirmation of Jesus as Creator emerged in a context of messianic reflection has also been defended by New

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Testament scholar Sean McDonough. He argues that the disciples’ memories of the ‘mighty works’ of Jesus could scarcely be divorced from God’s creative acts. The memories of Jesus preserved in the gospels depict a man who brings order to the threatening chaotic waters, creates life out of death, and restores people to their proper place in God’s world … Reflections of these memories of Jesus, coupled with the experience of forgiveness and renewal on the part of the early Church, led to a startling but elegant (theo-)logical conclusion: If the one true God had sent Jesus the Messiah as the definitive agent of redemption, and if this redemption was at one level simply the outworking of the project of creation (a view with ample precedent in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East in general), it must be that the Messiah was the agent of creation as well. (McDonough 2009, 2–3) Concerning Jesus’ messianic claims, it has been noted in Chapter 6 that my proposal is consistent with (but not dependent on) the proposal that highest Christology arose as the result of the conviction that Jesus was the Messiah, provided that the understanding that Jesus was the Messiah and that the title Messiah carries the connotation of being truly divine were both unambiguously affirmed by Jesus and understood as such by the disciples. This requirement is necessary for Wright’s and McDonough’s proposal as well, for otherwise their proposals will suffer from the same problems that beset the Theological Deduction Theory discussed in Chapter 5. Wright’s point about Jesus being the new Torah-giver, in particular, indicates the revelatory significance of Jesus for the early believers. While other aspects of Wright’s proposal (e.g. Jesus embodying the action of YHWH) have been challenged by other scholars (e.g. Dunn 2003b), this aspect of Jesus’ revelatory authority as reflected in the Gospels is widely recognized. For example, Hooker observes that all the Synoptic Gospels writers make it clear that, although Jesus calls men and women to follow him in the way of discipleship, he himself stands over against them. ‘Jesus acts with an authority far greater than that of Moses … he is God’s last word to his people’ (Hooker 1993, 83–84). Similarly, Hurtado observes that in the Sermon of the Mount Jesus’ commands surpasses even those of the Torah as defining righteousness (e.g. Matt. 5:21–26): The apodictic way that Jesus specifies right behaviour and the repeatedly emphatic

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‘I’ with which he speaks in the entirety of the Sermon on the Mount combine to make the teaching in the discourse a profound statement of Jesus’ authority and unique significance for the author and intended readers (Hurtado 2003, 334). While it is the case that the Gospel of John says that Jesus acknowledged God the Father as the source of his teachings and authority (e.g. John 7:16–7), the fact that the New Testament writers never say that Jesus used the formula ‘Thus says the LORD’ is surely significant. In contrast to all other prophets who spoke in God’s name, Jesus was said to have spoken in his own name. Dodd’s observation that Jesus’ ‘I say to you’ seems to transcend the typically prophetic ‘Thus says the Lord’ is surely correct (Dodd 1930, 63).8 In short, Jesus was remembered not as an ordinary prophet, but as the ultimate prophet, the supreme communicator of God’s will, and this revelatory significance of Jesus for the early believers provides contextual support for the proposal that the ultimate change for the earliest Christian Jews (i.e. the worship of another figure alongside God the Father) was indicated as necessary by the ultimate prophet himself. (2) Aquila Lee has argued for the historicity of Jesus’ statements in Matt. 11:25–27/Luke 10:21–22 (which indicate that Jesus alone mediated the final revelation of God and thus is God’s unique son), Mark 12:1–12 (the parable of the wicked tenants which indicates Jesus’ divine sonship and mission), Mark 13:32 (which suggests that Jesus’ proximity to the Father is even closer to that of the angels) and Mark 12:35–36 (which was Jesus’ own usage of Ps. 110:1). He concludes that Jesus was aware of his unique divine sonship (Lee 2005; for further discussion, see Section 7.3.4). (3) Darrell Bock (2000; 2003; 2007; 2010; 2011) has proposed that Jesus’ statements in the trial before the high priest (Mark 14:61–62) indicate that he regarded himself as truly divine. In this scene, Jesus is portrayed by the Gospels as acknowledging that he is the Messiah,

8 Käsemann likewise notes the significance of such sayings, which he interprets as Jesus setting himself against the law of Moses, thus elevating himself above all rabbis and prophets (see Käsemann 1964, 20, 37). Erickson notes that scholars have objected that Jesus was not opposing himself and his teachings to Moses and the law per se (indeed, such would be a strange thing for the Messiah to do); rather, Jesus was opposing the scribal interpretations which had been overlaid upon the law. Erickson goes on to explain that when the alleged antitheses to the law of Moses are closely examined, they are found not to be in contradiction to it at all (Erickson 1998a, 437f.). This, however, does not negate the fact that the ‘I say to you’ sayings are of significance.

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the Son of the Blessed One, and saying to the high priest that ‘You will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power and coming with the clouds of heaven’ (Mark 14:61–64; Matt. 26:63–66; Luke 22:67–71). After an extensive survey of the notion of blasphemy in Judaism, Bock concludes that, other than utterances of blasphemy involving the name of God, there is also a category of acts of blasphemy involving idolatry, a show of disrespect towards God or insulting God’s chosen leaders (Bock 2000, 111). Concerning certain exalted figures in Judaism (including angels and human figures such as Adam, Abel, Enoch, Abraham, Moses, David, Job, Messiah, Enoch Son of Man, Enoch-Metatron), Bock observes that, while being portrayed seating close to God’s presence in heaven is possible, it is limited to only a very few individuals and usually involves very limited circumstances. The most significant exaltation scenes involve the enthronement of Moses and the transformed Enoch figures (Son of Man and Metatron). However, though some Second Temple Jews ascribed positions of exceedingly high honour to certain righteous luminaries, other Jews sought to make sure that God’s honour continued to be perceived as unique. Jewish counter-traditions indicate that those who were placed too close to God or were made too much like him were always subjected to a counter-claim that attempted to reduce their status.9 Furthermore, Jewish traditions express the view that God’s direct intervention and invitation is required to permit a seating close to him; candidates do not apply for the role nor do they claim it for themselves. Only God can direct such a seating (Bock 2000, 162). Bock notes that what led to the Jewish view that Jesus had blasphemed was Jesus’ saying that the Son of Man being seated at the right hand of power and coming on the clouds (Bock 2000, 200).10

9 Bock 2000, 162, 179, 182–183. Bock argues that Moses is enthroned with great authority, but his exalted role is merely a metaphorical picture of his authority in establishing the nation (Exagoge 68–89). The references to his ‘deification’ appear to be explained by his function as God’s powerful agent, such that he is ‘like a god before Pharaoh’ (Exod. 7:1; Philo, Life of Moses 1.155–162; Philo, The Worse Attacks the Better, 160–162; Philo, Sacrifices of Abel and Cain, 9–10). Enoch-Metatron is given great authority over heavenly affairs, but he is also disciplined when that authority is misused in a way that might confuse him with God (3 Enoch 3–16). Bock also observes that the image of an exalted Enoch appears to have been countered by other Enoch traditions arguing that he only observed and recorded the judgement, was punished as Metatron-Enoch or even failed to be found among the righteous (Bock 2000, 162). 10 Bock also argues that there was also another factor, namely Jesus’ attack on the ‘divine appointed’ leadership of the nation (as shown by his warning to his accusers

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He argues that the claim to come on the clouds is a significant one, not only alluding to Dan. 7:13 but also using imagery that is associated with YHWH (Ps. 104:3; Isa. 19:1, etc.) (Bock 2000, 201). Concerning the problem of understanding the phrase ‘the Son of Man’, Bock observes that many scholars think that a formal title, or at least a unified Son of Man concept, did not yet exist in the early first century. He argues that it is the idiomatic element in the Aramaic expression and the lack of a fixed concept in Judaism that allow any ‘Son of Man’ remark to be ambiguous unless it is tied to a specific passage or context. This means the phrase could be an effective vehicle as a cipher for Jesus, such that he could fill it with content and also define it as he used it. One can argue that Jesus initially used the term ambiguously and drew out its force as he continued to use it, eventually associating it with Dan. 7 and using it together with Ps. 110:1 (Bock 2007; 2011). Bock concludes that in the trial scene Jesus is claiming to be seated in a way that shares the highest honour with God. Only the figure of Enoch Son of Man seems close to this imagery, and even his access to God in this way is controversial among the Jews. Bock argues that, while the portrayal of Enoch’s Son of Man shows that the existence of such a glorious figure was possible within first-century Judaism, what would have caused the offence in Jesus’ case was that his claim to share the highest honour with God was made by himself without invitation from God (Bock 2000, 202–203). Bock argues that Jesus’ remarks would have been read as blasphemous along the lines Philo described in On Dreams and Decalogue concerning those who claim prerogatives of God, who dare to compare themselves to God and who give creatures the same honours as those of the Creator. This explains the high priest’s response to this remark, viz. ripping off his clothes, which provides a clear sign that a blasphemy has been uttered (Mark 14:63).11 Bock has offered extensive arguments for the historicity of Jesus’ saying in the trial (Bock 2000; see also Wright 1996; 519–528) and defended his case against his critics in a number of publications that the real authority is not the Jewish council but himself, and that he will preside over them one day). This attack would be read as a violation of Exod. 22:27, one of the Torah’s prominent blasphemy texts (Bock 2000, 206–208). 11 Bock 2000, 203–204. This point is missed by Casey (2001, 246) who claims that Bock never makes the case for his main point, that the general use of terms approximately equivalent to the English term ‘blasphemy’ is sufficient to explain the high priest rending his garments and Jesus being found guilty of a capital offence.

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(Bock 2003; 2007; 2010; 2011; cf. Casey 2001). The historicity of Jesus identifying himself as the Son of Man has also been defended by other scholars (Hurtado and Owen 2011; cf. Casey 2007; Ehrman 2014). Hurtado objects that the implication that Jesus regarded himself as truly divine is weakened when one considers that in Rev. 3:21 it is stated that the Laodicean Christians are promised by Christ to sit with him on his throne, which he shares with God (Hurtado 2003, 47 n.66). However, Bock can argue that the Laodicean Christians did not claim this seating for themselves, rather they were said to have been promised this by Christ, and as noted earlier according to Jewish tradition only God can direct such a seating (Bock 2000, 162). Thus the implication of Jesus’ true divinity is actually present in Rev. 3:21. Hurtado also questions the identification of the Son of Man as the figure in Daniel 7; he asks why would early Christians have dropped or ignored the ‘Son of Man’ expression, if it had served in Jesus’ own teaching to identify himself as the exalted being in Daniel 7 (Hurtado and Owen 2011, 170–173). Bock can reply that the oddity of the phrase as a Greek expression can explain the lack of usage by early Christians, who nevertheless included it in the Gospels because they respected Jesus’ way of referring to himself (Bock 2007, 101). Some scholars have expressed reservations about citing Jesus’ use of the term ‘Son of Man’ as evidence for Jesus’ self-understanding because of the ambiguity of the term the significance of which has continued to puzzle scholars (Grindheim 2011, 203–204). However, Bock’s case does not rest on the ‘Son of Man’ term; as noted earlier, Bock acknowledges that any ‘Son of Man’ remark is ambiguous unless it is tied to a specific passage or context (Bock 2007; 2011). And it is the context of Mark 14:62, in particular Bock’s argument that Jesus claimed the prerogatives of God, i.e. claimed to share authority with God without invitation from God, which would be read as blasphemous by his Jewish audience, that seem to be of significance for indicating that he regarded himself as truly divine. This is especially so when taken together with the Jewish pre-understanding concerning the imagery of being seated close to God and coming on the clouds, as explained above, as well as the context of this passage which concerns the identity of Jesus. (Someone might object that ‘being seated close to God’ implies that Jesus is not identical with God and therefore not truly divine. In reply, it has been explained in Chapter 1 that the word ‘God’ can be used to denote any person who has the property of being truly divine. This does not exclude the possibility that there is another person

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who is not identical with this person but who is also truly divine and within the same divine being, as explained in previous chapters.) (4) Various scholars have also argued that the Gospels’ portrayal of Jesus’ actions indicates a highest Christology. For example, his forgiveness of sins (Mark 2:1–12), his references to prophesying, meeting together, baptizing and other activities ‘in his name’ (Matt. 7:22; 12:21; 18:20; 24:5; Mark 13:6; Luke 21:8), and his sending of prophets, wise men and scribes (Matt. 23:34–36) (Gathercole 2006). Jesus even sends the Holy Spirit (John 15:26; Acts 2:33) as a fulfilment of John the Baptist’s promise that Jesus would baptize with the Holy Spirit (Matt. 3:11; Mark 1:8; Luke 3:16; John 1:33), and it has been argued that this presupposes divine identity. As theologian Robert Jenson writes, ‘No prophet as such can do this. To give the Spirit is to act from the position of God’ (Jenson 1997, 88). Concerning these actions of Jesus in the Gospels, a number of scholars have objected that many of these are unhistorical, while others such as Bauckham, Bock, Keener and Witherington have defended their historicity. The objectors also argue that, even if the historicity of some of these is accepted, they do not prove the case that Jesus regarded himself as truly divine. For example, it has been argued that the forgiveness of sins could be explained by Jesus bypassing the temple cult, and it has Qumran parallel in the Prayer of the Babylonian King Nabonidus who says ‘an exorcist forgave my sin’ (4QprNab 242 4), while some of the other sayings might be typological, symbolic, metaphorical, poetic speech or partial analogy (Dunn 2007). Goulder argues that forgiving sins (Mark 2:12) and declaring himself to be the Lord of the Sabbath (Mark 2:28) do not imply that Jesus was God; the explanation that he was God’s viceroy can explain all these (Goulder 1979a, 146). Likewise, Cupitt objects that arguing for Jesus’ divinity based on his authority, his moral teaching, his obedience, his powers of forgiveness and judgement, his mighty works, his cross and resurrection is a non sequitur, claiming that the Bible itself sees these powers, sufferings and glories as having belonged to many before Jesus and as becoming general in the future. Cupitt writes, ‘His death is in a line of such deaths, his power of bestowing divine forgiveness is a power which he transmits to his followers, his resurrection is the beginning of a general eschatological resurrection, and so on’ (Cupitt 1977, 39). As for Jesus’ sending of the Spirit, Dunn objects that this idea is not present in the earliest writings: Paul’s. In Paul’s writings, it is always God who is described

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as the One who gives the Spirit. Dunn also claims that, even if Luke was drawing on very early kerygmatic material, he does not make much of the claim, and he suggests that the attribution of the Spirit to the exalted Christ was simply the Lord God sharing another of his functions with the exalted Lord Christ (Dunn 2008, 222). On the other hand, Bauckham observes that the story about Nabonidus seems to be the only other case in the whole of early Jewish literature in which God’s forgiveness is declared by a human being. He adds that, moreover, we do not know exactly what the Qumran text meant and that the translation is not certain, ‘but it remains the case that Jesus’ practice of declaring God’s forgiveness was perceived in his time as infringing a divine prerogative’ (Bauckham 2011, 85).12 It is true that some of the above-mentioned actions, such as ‘miracles’, would have been too unclear, by themselves, to play the crucial role of generating the widespread affirmation of highest Christology among the earliest Christians. Now the New Testament portrays Jesus as someone who did many mighty acts, overcoming diseases (e.g. making the paralysed walk), forces of nature (e.g. calming the wind and the waves) and ‘evil spirits’ (e.g. Mark 2:1–12; 3:1–12; 4:35–40; 5:1–37). Some of Jesus’ ‘mighty acts’ (e.g. silencing the waves) could have triggered off spontaneous worship among the disciples if the historicity of these acts is granted. However, further reflection by the disciples would have made them realize that these actions by themselves do not warrant the conclusion that Jesus was truly divine (because, as Cupitt point out, prophets also did miracles). Nevertheless, the Gospels’ portrayal of Jewish perception of Jesus’ practice of declaring God’s forgiveness, and Jesus’ command to carry out certain religious activities ‘in his name’ still appear to be of significance (concerning the significance of ‘in his name’, see further the discussion on Matt. 28:19–20 in Section 7.3.3). This is all the more so when taken into consideration together with the Gospels’ portrayal of Jesus’ ‘miracles’, his changing Passover liturgy, his authority over the Sabbath (Bock 2002; Bock and Webb 2010), as well as his other sayings explained previously. Just as Tilling (2012) has argued that the relational data between believers and Jesus in Pauline writings corresponds, as a pattern, only to the language concerning believers and YHWH in Second Temple Judaism (see 12 Only nine fragmentary lines of the Prayer of Nabonidus are preserved, making it difficult to understand what it is trying to convey (Garcia Martinez and Tigchelaar 2000, 486–489).

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Chapter  2), Sigurd Grindheim (2011) has argued for the Synoptic Jesus’ self-understanding. That is, he has argued that, where the Synoptic Jesus’ words and deeds are concerned, parallels between Jesus and various intermediaries in Second Temple Jewish literature are far surpassed by the parallels between Jesus and God, and this goes against Dunn’s explanation (noted earlier) that it is merely the case that the Lord God shared his functions with Christ. After examining the Synoptic Jesus’ kingdom announcement in association with his exorcism (e.g. Luke 11:17–23 and parallels), ‘miraculous deeds’ (e.g. Matt. 11:5 and parallel), claims to forgive sins, claims to be the final eschatological judge (Matt. 25:34–46), speeches which conveyed an unmediated divine authority that is equal or greater than the Mosaic law, and expectation of the level of devotion from his followers, Grindheim concludes: The Jesus who emerges then is a Jesus who said and did what only God could say and do. His claims are unmatched by Jewish expectations of the Messiah, by Jewish ideas regarding the glorious characters of Israel’s past, the most exalted of the angels, and even the heavenly Son of Man. According to the contemporary Jewish sources, these divine agents do not engage Satan directly, and they do not inaugurate the new creation. They do not forgive sins, and they do not autonomously pass the ultimate, eschatological judgment. They do not pit their own authority against the authority of the word of God. Nor do they demand a loyalty that takes precedent over the commandments of God. (Grindheim 2011, 220) While critics might object that Grindheim overstates the case for divine Christology at certain points in his assessment of the texts, it is hard to avoid the overall impression concerning the striking parallels between the Synoptic Jesus and God in Second Temple Jewish literature. The main problem with Grindheim (2011) is that, while he claims that the Synoptic Jesus regards himself as ‘God’s equal’, he does not clarify how this is to be understood in light of the Synoptic Gospels’ portrayal of Jesus’ submission to the Father (which he himself noted:  Grindheim 2011, 169). The present study remedies this deficiency by showing in the previous chapters that this equality can be understood as ontological while the submission as functional. That is, only a truly divine person can do all these things taken together, while a truly divine person can freely choose to submit to another (see my response to Tilling’s objection to the ontological–functional distinction in Chapter 4).

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I have briefly summarized various ‘pre-resurrection’ proposals. Before I  assess them further, I  shall first discuss the passages in the Gospels in which Jesus is portrayed as indicating his divinity ‘post-resurrection’ (e.g. Matt. 28:19; John 20:28–29). It will be objected that many critical scholars have challenged the historicity of these passages. In reply, I will address these historical issues after the christological relevance of these passages is first discussed. 7.3.3

Post-Resurrection Passages

Matthew 28:19 This verse (‘Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’ NRSV) occurs in the context of Jesus’ resurrection appearance in Matt. 28:16–20. This passage has a structure that shares the same broad outline of setting, appearances, response, commissioning and promise of succour as the other resurrection narratives in Mark 16:14–20, Luke 24:36–49 and John 20:19–23 (Davies and Allison 1991, vol.3, 677). An extremely high Christology is evident in this resurrection appearance. Concerning Jesus’ commissioning, Hurtado observes that the universal dimension of Jesus’ statement in Matt. 28:18 (‘all authority in heaven and on earth’) reflects a divine-like status.13 Additionally, Jesus’ promise of perpetual presence with his followers ‘I am with you always’ (28:20b) seems to indicate that he possesses divine attributes, and it also recalls the uniquely Matthean reference to Jesus as ‘Emmanuel’ and the explanation of the name as ‘God with us’ in 1:23, these two phrases forming a literary inclusio (Hurtado 2003, 332). Moreover, Jesus is also said to have received worship (28:17). Most significant is the argument offered by Bauckham that, by commanding his disciples to baptize others ‘in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’ (28:19), the Matthean Jesus identifies himself to be within the newly disclosed identity of God. Bauckham argues that the transition from the God of the patriarchs

13 Hurtado (2003, 331). Hurtado also observes that ‘On the other hand, that Jesus is given this authority by God, as hinted by the “divine passive” verb here, means that his status derives from, and is linked with, God, and that Jesus is neither hubristic nor a rival to God.’ (Hurtado 2003, 331) That Jesus was truly divine yet had this authority given to him is consistent with the functional subordination explained in Chapters 4 and 6.

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to YHWH the God of Israel is a kind of precedent for the transition from the latter to the God of Jesus Christ. Just as the revelation of the divine name YHWH marked the events in which God is to bring Israel out of Egypt and make them his people, similarly ‘the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’ marks the profession of the Christian faith in baptism. As he explains concerning the baptismal formula, The formula, as in the phrase ‘calling on the name of the Lord’ which New Testament usage takes up from the Old with reference to baptism and profession of Christian faith, requires precisely a divine name. ‘The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit’ names the newly disclosed identity of God, revealed in the story of Jesus the Gospel has told. (Bauckham 1999, 75–76) It should be noted that it is extremely improbable that the command to baptize ‘in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’ was intended to convey Tri-theism. As Dunn notes, Jesus was evidently a monotheist, in particular, the Jesus tradition includes the explicit recollection of Jesus drawing upon the Shema for his own teaching (Mark 12:28–31) (Dunn 2004, 104–112; on Jesus’ monotheism, see further Chapter 8). Other scholars have also argued that in this passage the divine name – the revealed name of power (Exod. 3:13–15; Prov. 18:10; Jub. 36:7) – has been shared with Jesus and the Spirit by God the Father, whom Jewish and Christian traditions regard as truly divine (Keener 1999, 716–717). Gathercole, observing the parallel in 1 Cor. 8.6 where Paul ‘splits’ the Shema’s ‘the Lord our God, the Lord is one’ into ‘one God, the Father’ and ‘one Lord, Jesus Christ’, argues that Matt. 28:19 can only be understood as referring to an explanation or ‘trifurcation’ of the single divine name which has been revealed by the risen Jesus (Gathercole 2006, 69). Additionally, as noted in Chapter 2, in contexts concerning religious rites the Jewish-rabbinic usage ‘into the name’ implies that the rites are performed ‘into the name’ of a divine being (Hartman 1997, 42, 150). Dunn has suggested, on the basis of 1 Cor. 1:11–15, that ‘baptism in the name of’ is understood to imply membership in the faction of the one named (Dunn 2008, 188 n.74). It should be noted that ‘implying membership’ does not exclude the idea that ‘the one named’ is regarded as truly divine. In 1 Cor. 1:13 (‘Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of

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Paul?’ NRSV) Paul could be indirectly warning the Corinthians not to regard him as highly as Christ, whom he regards as truly divine (1 Cor. 8:6; see Chapter 2). Against Matt. 28:19 being a Trinitarian statement, it has been objected that not until Athenagoras, a generation after Justin, was there an attempt to work out a Trinitarian doctrine (Schaberg 1982, 23 n.103). In response, the fact that the Trinitarian doctrine was worked out at a later date does not imply that it did not originate from an earlier date. It has already been shown that the historical evidences in the Pauline epistles indicate that Jesus was regarded as truly divine alongside God the Father from the earliest phase of the Christian movement. As the Christian movement expanded, it interacted more and more with Greek thought, and the increasing need to address the metaphysical questions of the Gentile audience caused the church fathers to work out and clarify their doctrines, and this happened at a later date. Hence, in Matthew’s portrayal, Jesus’ command in Matt. 28:19 concerning baptism implies that he regarded himself as truly divine in the presence of ‘the Twelve’. And since ‘the Twelve’ regarded Jesus as the ultimate prophet and teacher, they would perceive this to be a clear indication that obedience to God demanded that they also regard Jesus as truly divine. Nevertheless, the historicity of Matt. 28:19 has been challenged by many historical-critical scholars. Some have argued that this verse is a post-Matthean interpolation, based on the fact that Eusebius frequently cited this verse without the reference to the Trinity, while others have argued that this is a composition by the author of Matthew, by other Christians passing on an earlier tradition, or by a Christian prophet (see the discussion in Ferguson 2009, 133–134). The view that Matt. 28:19 is a post-Matthean interpolation has not been very popular, however, and for good reasons. First, there is no support from the Greek manuscripts for this judgement (Davies and Allison 1991, vol.3, 684 n.41). Second, there is the use of the same baptismal phrase involving ‘the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit’ in Didache 7:1–3. If Didache 7:1–3 draws upon Matthew, then it is early evidence for the received reading, otherwise the Didache establishes that baptism in the Triune name was already known early enough in Syria to have been an original part of Matthew (Davies and Allison 1991, vol.3, 684 n.41). As for the frequent (but not constant) omissions by Eusebius, it is likely that he paraphrased when his interest

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was the apostle’s mission or the Lord’s ethical teaching and cited the full text when Trinitarian concerns were at the forefront (Ferguson 2009, 134–135). But what about the view that this verse is a Matthean or earlier Christian composition? Here, the main argument that has been offered against the historicity of this verse (i.e. as perceived by the apostles to have come from the resurrected Jesus himself) is that the Trinitarian formula belongs to the later strata of the New Testament, not the earliest (France 2007, 1116). In addition, it is noted that early Christian sources associate a variety of phrases with baptism:  ‘In the name of Jesus Christ’ (Acts 2:38); ‘In the name of the Lord’ (Acts 8:16); ‘In the name of Jesus Christ’ (Acts 10:48); ‘In the name of the Lord Jesus’ (Acts 19:5); ‘In Christ Jesus’ (Rom. 6:3); ‘Into Christ’ (Gal. 3:27); ‘In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’ (Matt. 28:19; Did. 7:1); ‘into the name of the Lord’ (Did. 9:5) (Davies and Allison 1991, vol.3, 685). Based on this, France argues that, if it had been perceived that the resurrected Jesus put the matter as explicitly as is stated in Matt. 28:19, it is surprising that it took his followers so long to catch up with his Triune formulation and that other formulations prevailed for so long (France 2007, 1116–1118). Geza Vermès argues that baptizing in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit is unheard of not just in the Gospels but anywhere in the New Testament, and outside the New Testament the formula first appears in Didache, and these factors seem to indicate a late Gentile Christian origin (Vermès 2004, 333). Furthermore, it has been argued by Davies and Allison that the setting on a mountain, the command to go and make disciples, the order to do all that Jesus has commanded, and the assurance of Christ’s presence is probably a reinterpretation of the appearance tradition in order to make Jesus like Moses. They observe that there is much redactional vocabulary and that these four elements give the passage its Mosaic aura (Davies and Allison 1991, vol.3, 677–680). It has also been suggested that Matt. 28:19 could have originated from someone before Matthew who interpreted the appearance story by relating it to the vision in Daniel 7 (which features the Ancient of Days, the one like a Son of Man and the angels) (Schaberg 1982, 335–336). What can be said in response to these arguments? First, it should be noted that the earliest evidence for Christian communities shows that initiatory baptism was already in place (Meeks 1986, 99). Dunn observes that baptism is everywhere taken for granted in earliest

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Christian sources. In particular, Paul, the earliest first-hand witness, simply assumes that all believers have been baptized (Rom. 6:4; 1 Cor. 1:13–15). Dunn notes that the fact that the ‘we all’ of Rom. 6:3–4 and 1 Cor. 12:13 must have included Paul himself indicates that when Paul was converted, at most two or three years from the very beginning of the Christian movement, baptism was an already established practice for the new sect (Dunn 2008, 186). What is the cause of this early and widespread practice of baptism? A number of scholars have observed that there is no more likely explanation for the universal adoption of the practice of baptism by the earliest Christians than the explanation that the first Christian community believed that the risen Christ had so instructed them (Beasley-Murray 1962, 77–92; Dunn 2008, 186; Ferguson 2009, 133). There is therefore good reason to think that the root of Matt. 28:19 is a memory of the apostles’ report that they perceived the resurrected Jesus himself commanded them to baptize those who responded to the proclamation of the good news about him (Dunn 2008, 186). While it might be objected that there are no parallels of this command in the Synoptics, Ferguson points out that, if Mark’s Gospel ends at 16:8, there are no resurrection appearances at all and so no opportunity to record any post-resurrection instructions. Ferguson suggests that Luke alludes to baptism in his account of Jesus’ commissioning:  Luke uses language that he elsewhere associates with baptism:  repentance, forgiveness of sins, preaching in Jesus’ name (Luke 24:47; cf. Luke 3:3 and Acts 2:38) (Ferguson 2009, 133). One might object that the above considerations by themselves do not imply that the use of the Triune name in baptism belongs to such a memory, but only the command to baptize belongs to this memory. But why cannot the use of the Triune name also belong to such a memory?14 If the presence of redactional vocabulary, Matthean themes, etc. does not prevent historical-critical scholars such as Dunn from seeing the command to baptize as authentic, what is the problem with seeing the use of the Triune name as authentic? Here I  shall deal with other objections which have been raised. Against the argument that the Trinitarian formula belongs to the later strata of the New Testament, it is observed that Trinitarian language pre-dates this Gospel (e.g. in Paul 1 Cor. 12:4–6; 2 Cor. 13:14) (Fee 2007, 586–593). France objects that the three persons are mentioned 14 Keener likewise argues that the use of the Triune name was perceived by the disciples to have come from Jesus (Keener 1999, 716f.).

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together in such a variety of orders and literary forms that to speak of a ‘formula’ is anachronistic (France 2007, 1118 n.42). In response, it may well be that a certain flexibility in the order and literary form was permitted by the earliest Christians where the ‘formula’ is concerned, as long as the Trinitarian concept was preserved. In any case, the recognition that Jesus was truly divine (which would imply equal ontological status with the Father) was already widespread among the earliest Christians, as shown in previous chapters. As for the existence of other phrases in the early Christian documents that are associated with baptism, it is noted that all of them refer to Jesus. The references in Didache are especially significant. Although the author clearly knows the form ‘In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit’ (Did. 7.1), in Did. 9:5 he chooses to use the form ‘into the name of the Lord’, where the ‘Lord’ refers to Jesus (as shown by the following phrase ‘for concerning this also the Lord has said, “Give not that which is holy to the dogs” ’, which alludes to Jesus’ saying in Matt. 7:6). This implies that, although baptism is performed with reference to the Trinity, it is also acceptable to the early Christians to summarize it using other forms such as ‘into the name of the Lord’, such that Jesus is still a central figure in the baptismal thinking (Hartman 1997, 176). This can explain why the rest of the New Testament uses various summarized forms. Furthermore, it is noteworthy that references to the Trinity are made in a few other religiously significant contexts in the epistles of Paul (e.g. 1 Cor. 12:4–6; 2 Cor. 13:14) (Fee 2007, 591–593). Just as the best explanation for the highest Christology of the earliest Christians is that Jesus indicated it (as shown in previous chapters), likewise it is also reasonable to think that the best explanation for the Trinitarian references of the earliest Christians is that Jesus himself indicated it. The redactional vocabulary, the Mosaic aura and the similarities with Daniel 7 can all be explained by the proposal that Matthew redacted his material, which is nevertheless based on a memory of the apostles’ report that they perceived the resurrection appearance as having a Mosaic aura and alluding to Daniel, and which also involved the command to baptize in the Triune name.15 In summary, it has been shown that there is no adequate reason to regard all the details in Matt. 28:19 (including the command to baptize in the Triune name) as unhistorical. 15 For a rebuttal of Bultmann’s form-critical arguments, see Bauckham (2006); Boyd and Eddy (2007).

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On the other hand, it is interesting to note that, on the basis of passages such as Daniel 7 (see Chapter 3), Jewish scholar Daniel Boyarin (2012, 102)  has acknowledged that the Old Testament permits the doctrines of the Trinity and incarnation. While this is of importance in showing that the portrayal of Matt. 28:19 is theologically possible for a Jew, it has been argued in Chapter 6 that demonstrating permissibility by itself is very far from demonstrating the plausibility of a particular individual being God incarnate, let alone widespread acknowledgement that he is truly divine. However, baptism in the Triune name or in other summarized forms involving Jesus carried the implication that Jesus was regarded as truly divine. The origin of this can be explained as follows: The command to baptize in the Triune name was indeed perceived by the apostles to have come from Jesus himself, and the ‘resurrection appearance’ (which is what Matt. 28:16–20 portrays) would, despite the initial doubts of some (Matt. 28:17), eventually be regarded as evidence that Jesus was indeed raised from the dead by God. This would indicate God’s approval of Jesus and his claims. And since the event portrayed in Matt. 28:19 can be classified as one in which ‘the Twelve’ (a sizeable group) perceived that Jesus himself gave a clear indication that obedience to God demanded that they regard him as truly divine, it will explain the origin of divine Christology (see Chapter 6). In short, to regard Matt. 28:19 as unhistorical (which we have seen there is no adequate reason to do) would increase the data to be explained (what caused the very first Christians to baptize in Jesus name and in the Triune name in the first place?), while to regard it as historical would explain every data (including the evidences for the highest Christology of the earliest Christians discussed in previous chapters). John 20:28–29 In John’s account (20:24–29), the resurrected Jesus came and stood in the midst of the Twelve, and after Thomas had seen Jesus, he said to him, ‘My Lord and my God.’ As Brown (1966, vol.2, 1026) observes, the expression, as used in John, is a cross between a vocative and a proclamation of faith (‘You are my Lord and my God’). The source for the titles ‘Lord’ and ‘God’ is biblical, combining the terms used by LXX to translate YHWH (κύριος) and Elohim (θεός), cf. Ps. 35: 23: ‘… My God and my Lord’ (Brown 1966, vol.2, 1047). Carson explains that Thomas’s utterance cannot possibly be taken as shocked profanity addressed to God (if to anyone), a kind

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of blasphemous version of a stunned ‘My word!’, for such profanity would not have been found in first-century Palestine on the lips of a devout Jew. Furthermore, the overwhelming majority of grammarians rightly take the utterance as vocative address to Jesus – the nouns being put not in the vocative case but in the nominative to add a certain sonorous weight (Carson 1991, 658). The fact that verse 28, ‘Thomas said to him’, parallels verse 29, ‘Jesus said to Thomas’, gives further weight to the case that according to the author Thomas’s statement is addressed to Jesus (Harris 1994, 94).16 Now one might wonder what caused Thomas to make such a confession if this incident did happen. Commenting on this passage, Wright thinks that John’s account is unique, for there is no suggestion in the other resurrection stories that there was an instant deduction that ran ‘risen from the dead, therefore in some sense divine’ (Wright 2003, 573). As noted previously, it is unlikely that the experiences of merely seeing Jesus alive again after his crucifixion would have caused the pervasive and persistent belief that Jesus was divine. In reply, one can defend the possibility of a prior (‘pre-resurrection’) claim to be truly divine (see Section 7.3.2); such a prior claim is clearly portrayed in the Gospel of John, e.g. in John 8:58 as argued previously. Alternatively, it is also reasonable to think that the immediate experience of seeing a gloriously resurrected figure could have caused an immediate and spontaneous act of worship among some of those who experienced it. Such a temporary reflex reaction would be understandable even for certain devout monotheistic Jews, although as argued previously it is unlikely to result in a pervasive and 16 One might suggest the following hypothesis to avoid the conclusion that Jesus regarded himself as divine: Jesus took Thomas’s ‘My Lord and my God’ in John 20:28 to be an exclamation of astonishment (or as Theodore of Mopsuestia suggested, merely an exclamation in honour of the Father [cited in Brown 1966, vol.2, 1026]) rather than as an affirmation of Jesus’ deity, and hence Jesus’ response to Thomas (‘Because you have seen me, have you believed?’ (John 20:29)) referred only to Thomas’s belief in his resurrection, not to Thomas’s affirmation of Jesus’ deity. The disciples, however, misinterpreted Jesus’ response as his acknowledgement of his divinity, which led to their worship of him and eventually the insertion of unhistorical material that implied Jesus’ acknowledgement of his divinity into Matt. 28:16–20 as well.In response, it is very unlikely that such a misunderstanding is the cause of the widespread and unchallenged worship of Christ among the earliest Christians. If Thomas’s ‘My Lord and my God’ were so ambiguous that it could be interpreted as either an exclamation of astonishment or an affirmation of Jesus’ deity, then it is unlikely that there would be uniform agreement among the earliest Christians that Jesus’ affirmed his deity. On the other hand, if Thomas’s saying was an unambiguous affirmation of Jesus’ deity, it is unlikely that Jesus would have failed to understand it as such. As argued in Chapter 6, the indication by Jesus must have been clear and unambiguous.

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persistent belief among the earliest Christians that Jesus is truly divine (see response to Ehrman’s Resurrection and Ascension Theory in Chapter 5). For an example of such a reflex reaction, it is instructive to look at Rev. 19:10 and 22:8, where John, the author of Revelation, was said to fall down to worship at the feet of the angel after the angel showed him what was to happen in the future. Even though John was evidently a devout monotheist (Hurtado 2005, 201–202), such an overwhelming experience of divine revelation triggered off an act of worship in him, an act which the angel was portrayed to have declined because it carries with it a recognition of divinity (thus Rev. 19:10 and 22:8 cannot be used to support Ehrman’s theory). With regard to Jesus, even if other aspects of his life and ministry, such as his ‘mighty works’ and his claim to forgive sins, were not conclusive indicators of his divinity for his disciples, these were probably at least suggestive of it for them. These factors would also have contributed to the disciples’ spontaneous worship of Jesus on seeing him gloriously resurrected. Therefore, it would not be surprising if on seeing the gloriously resurrected Jesus some disciples spontaneously thought of him as truly divine, which resulted in an acclamation of him as Lord and God (John 20:28). Although the word ‘worship’ is not said of Thomas’s act, the acknowledgement of Jesus as ‘my Lord and my God’ (Ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου) can hardly be construed in any other way, as the personal possessive pronoun is one of the most common adjectives attached to ‘God’ in the OT and Jewish sources to indicate that ‘God’ in question is identified with a specific person(s) who honour and worship that divine person as God (Thompson 2001, 223–224, 235). The astonishing and crucial point to note here is that, unlike the accounts in Rev. 19:10, 22:8–9 and other parts of the New Testament (e.g. Acts 10:25; 14:11–18) in which worship rendered to servants of God (angelic or human) was said to have been declined by them, the confession of Jesus’ true divinity in John 20 is portrayed as accepted. Dunn argues that according to John 4:23–24 Jesus himself teaches that it is the Father who is to be worshipped (Dunn 2010, p.123). However, John 4:23–24 does not say ‘only the Father is to be worshipped’, hence it does not exclude the possibility (which the disciples are portrayed to have realized in John 20:28–29) that in John’s portrayal Jesus thinks of himself as worthy to be worshipped as well. The best explanation that would account for all the relevant passages in John’s Gospel (including both John 4:23–24 and 20:28–29) is that the author of this Gospel thinks that Jesus and the Father are both

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truly divine (i.e. both are within the one being of God) such that both are worthy to be worshipped. Morna Hooker raises the concern that John 20:28 is a confessional statement rather than a dogmatic formula and thus has to be treated with caution. Cupitt also warns that ‘People might feel impelled to cry out “Long live the King!” … the early Christians may have acclaimed Jesus as if he were a god to them, positing him as divine without thought of the theological problems this must one day raise’ (Cupitt 1979, 36). However, based on Jesus’ response to Thomas (‘Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” ’ [John 20:28–29 NRSV]), it is clear that it is Jesus who is portrayed to have acknowledged the content of Thomas’s assertion, regardless of whether it has the form of a confessional statement or dogmatic formula and whether the early Christians felt impelled or not. If such an acknowledgement by someone regarded as God’s ultimate prophet indeed occurred and was witnessed by the apostles as portrayed by John’s Gospel, this would result in the widespread conviction that obedience to God demands that they regard Jesus to be truly divine. That is, of the same ontological status as God the Father as indicated by the allusion to Ps. 35:23 and the implication of worship by the personal pronouns (cf. J. McGrath 2009, 67–68, who explains away the highest Christology in this verse by taking the titles ‘Lord’ and ‘God’ separately and ignoring the allusion to Ps 35:23). This does not imply modalism, for as explained in Chapter 1, the word ‘God’ can be used to denote any person (Jesus in the case of John 20:28–29) who has the property of being truly divine (such as being on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide), and in this case this person is distinct from the Father but within the same divine being. Sceptics will object that the historicity of John 20:24–29 has been widely disputed. Some have argued that such a highest Christology does not belong to the earliest strata of the New Testament (Brown 1966, 2:1031; Casey 1996, 192, 196–198). In relation to this, Raymond Brown claims that the question ‘Did Jesus know that he was God?’ is ‘so badly asked that it cannot be answered and should not be posed’. The reason Brown offers is that, to the Jews of Jesus’ time, the word ‘God’ was applied to the Father in heaven. It was only later, in the last third of the first century, that the necessity of giving proper honour to Jesus forced believers to broaden the concept of God (Brown 1967, 86–87). In response, the argument that highest Christology does not belong to the earliest strata of the New Testament can no longer

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be sustained, for as shown in previous chapters the earliest strata of the New Testament affirms it. With respect to Brown’s argument, it has been shown in previous chapters that there are good reasons to think that the concept of God was already broadened, not in the last third of the first century, but before the mid first century. This is indicated by passages such as 1 Cor. 8:6 which include Jesus within the divine being alongside God the Father. Brown’s observation that Jesus was not talking to himself when he prayed to the Father (Brown 1967, 86–87) is compatible with the view that the truly divine Jesus was talking to another truly divine person within the divine being and acting in accordance with his human nature when he prayed. Brown also objects that, were the title ‘God’ used for Jesus so soon after the resurrection as John 20:24–29 portrays, one could not explain the absence of this title in Christian confessions before the AD 60s (Brown 1967, 30 n.52). In response, this rarity in Christian confessions (other than John 20:28, if its historicity is accepted) can be explained by the general reluctance of the earliest Christian Jews to use the word ‘God’ for Jesus, and the reasons for this reluctance (e.g. to avoid eclipsing the humanity of Jesus) have already been explained in Section 2.1 (see the citation by Murray Harris there). This rarity before the AD 60s can also be accounted for by the explanation (noted in Chapter 4) that a certain amount of time would have been required for the Christian Jewish monotheist leaders to adjust their language to reflect the status of Jesus which they had come to realize Jesus was worthy of. The above explanations for rarity do not imply the impossibility of exceptions, however, and this rarity certainly does not imply that the earliest Christians did not regard Jesus as truly divine. On the contrary, it has been shown in Chapter 2 that they affirmed highest Christology using other ways of expression, such as affirming that all things come through Jesus in 1 Cor. 8:6. Others have objected that certain incidents portrayed in the Gospel of John are not multiply attested, that their contexts show massive secondary development with hints of redaction all over the place reflecting the theological themes of the Gospel authors, and that the purpose was tied to the sitz im leben of the community to which they are addressed (Brown 1966, vol.2, 1031; Casey 1996, 192, 196–198; cf. Carson 1991, 657–658).17 In response, one can suggest the 17 Casey also argues that the confession of Jesus’ deity contradicts the Judaism which Jesus did so much to recreate (Casey 1996, 198). In response, such an objection

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alternative explanation that each of the authors of the Gospels chose from a pool of historical material (consisting of a collection of traditions) those details which fitted his theological emphasis as well as the needs of his audience (for the idea of the Gospels writers choosing from a large body of materials, see Nolland 2011, 1905–1907). This explanation does not deny that the details are historical, and given that the needs of the audiences of each Gospel are different, it would explain the lack of multiple attestations concerning certain incidents mentioned in the Gospel of John. It would be a false dilemma to choose between the options of a particular Gospel passage containing historical information about Jesus of Nazareth or serving the theological perspective of the Gospel writer, because it may be the case that the passage fulfils both functions at the same time. Thus the denial of the historicity of the incidents in the Gospel of John does not follow. Moreover, even if this alternative explanation fails, the objections can only at most cause us to suspect the historicity of these passages; these objections do not prove that each and every detail in these passages is therefore unhistorical. Hence, the possibility that the root of these passages contains a memory of the apostles’ report that they perceived the resurrected Jesus himself acknowledging his true divinity is not excluded by this objection. 7.3.4

Assessing the Pre- and Post-Resurrection Passages

With regard to the ‘pre-resurrection’ passages, certain unique features seem to suggest an implicit claim to true divinity where the portrayal of Jesus is concerned. For example, in contrast to all other biblical prophets who spoke in God’s name, Jesus was said to have spoken in his own name (Wright et al.). This unique feature should be considered along with Matt. 11:25–27/Luke 10:21–22, Mark 12:1–12 and Mark 13:32, which taken together indicate Jesus’ unique divine sonship whose proximity to the Father is even closer to that of the angels (Lee). He could exercise uniquely divine prerogatives, such as claiming to share authority with God without invitation from God (Bock) and declaring God’s forgiveness, both of which are perceived as blasphemous by his immediate Jewish audience. Sceptics have objected that ‘pre-resurrection’ passages (Matt. 11:25–27; Mark 14:61–63, etc.) are irrelevant, in the sense that the begs the question against the possibility that Jesus could have known the incarnation and Trinitarianism to be true (see Chapter 7).

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portrayed sayings and actions of Jesus can be interpreted in ways other than as an indication that he regards himself as truly divine. In reply, on the one hand, the possibility that the portrayed sayings and actions of Jesus are historical and in their original context were interpreted by his audience and unambiguously acknowledged by Jesus himself to be such an indication is not excluded by these suggestions of alternative interpretations. On the other hand, each of these passages (e.g. Matt. 11:25–27) should be considered together with other saying passages (e.g. Jesus’ trial before the high priest in Matt. 26:64–65) and with Jesus’ actions (e.g. his forgiveness of sins in Matt. 9:2) rather than considered separately, in order that we may perceive the fuller picture of the Jesus whom the Gospel writers are trying to portray. For example, with regard to Mark 14:61–63 it has been noted earlier that the charge of blasphemy can be given on other grounds, such as a perceived insult of God’s chosen leaders. However, we need to consider other details of this passage, such as Jesus’ claim to share authority with God without invitation from God, the imagery of being seated next to God and coming on the clouds. The context concerns the identity of Jesus, together with Jesus’ forgiveness of sins in Mark 2, which was also considered as blasphemous. Taking these details together, it seems that the consistent and fuller picture which the author of Mark is trying to convey is that of a Jesus who was accused of blasphemy because he was saying and doing things that imply a claim to be truly divine. One might object by claiming that Jesus believed he had this authority to do these things not because he believed he was truly divine, but because he believed he had (merely) been given the prerogative by God the Father. However, on the one hand, there is no passage in the Gospels which states or implies that Jesus was merely functionally divine (as noted earlier, passages such as Mark 10:18 do not imply a denial of true divinity). On the other hand, it has been noted earlier (citing Grindheim 2011) that the parallels between Jesus and God in the Synoptic Gospels far surpass the parallels between Jesus and various intermediaries in Second Temple Jewish literature who are said to have been given prerogatives by God. More seriously, the ‘merely functional divinity’ interpretation is inconsistent with the widely held understanding of Jesus among the earliest Christians; i.e. as truly divine rather than merely functionally divine, as shown in Chapters  2 to 4. To interpret any text properly, it is important to understand the intended readers’ pre-understanding, and in this case the Christian readers’ pre-understanding of Jesus is inconsistent

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with a merely functional interpretation. Additionally, as argued in Section 6.6, it is unreasonable to think that this pre-understanding originated as a misunderstanding of Jesus’ intention, which in its original context must have been clearly and unambiguously understood by a significant number of people. It should also be noted that the view that Jesus indicated that he regarded himself to be truly divine ‘pre-resurrection’ is clearly stated in the Gospel of John (most evidently in the pre-resurrection ‘I AM’ passage in John 8:58–59), and there was no hint of disagreement in first-century Christian documents concerning this view. One might conclude that the main difference between the Gospel of John and the Synoptics concerning Jesus’ self-understanding ‘pre-resurrection’ is not a matter of substance but a matter of emphasis or expression. Bauckham explains this when he writes A major difference between the Synoptic Gospels and the Gospel of John is that, whereas in the Synoptics Jesus is notably reticent about his identity, in John he frequently speaks explicitly about who he is and his relationship with God … In John’s Gospel Jesus frequently speaks of himself as ‘the Son’ (along with calling God ‘the Father’), but this usage is not absent from the other Gospels. It occurs in them in rare, but significant, examples. This gives the clue to what John is really doing. He is reflecting on Jesus’ indirect claims and making explicit the full significance he finds in them. (Bauckham 2011, 90–91) In any case, even if ‘pre-resurrection’ passages do not portray Jesus regarding himself as truly divine, ‘post-resurrection’ passages such as Matt. 28:19 and John 20:28–29 seem quite clear and unambiguous, as explained previously. It is also noteworthy that the contexts of these passages (Matt. 28:16–20; John 20:26–29) portray the experiences of a sizeable group that includes most (if not all) of the most influential members of the earliest Christian community (i.e. members of ‘the Twelve’). As argued in previous chapters, this is the kind of experience (rather than the kind of subjective experience which Hurtado cited, e.g. the experience of Stephen in Acts 7)  that is required to produce a widespread conviction among earliest Christians that obedience to God demanded the worship of Christ. While critical scholars might point to various features in these passages (e.g. the ‘Mosaic aura’ in the context of Matt. 28:19) and argue that these passages had been redacted by later Christians, as explained previously

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such arguments do not prove that each and every detail in all of these passages is unhistorical or does not have a historical root. Therefore, the possibility that the root of certain detail(s) (however distorted) in any one of these passages is a memory of Jesus giving a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine is not excluded by such arguments. On the other hand, if there were no such root, the question ‘what caused these Gospel writers to come up with such details in the first place’ comes back to haunt us (one might answer, ‘the highest Christology of earlier Christians’. But what caused them to have such a Christology? This leads back to the discussion in the previous chapters of this book). Thus, to think that these passages have no such root would only increase the load of the data to be explained, while to regard any of these passages as historical and relevant (or that they have such a root) would explain the data, including the evidences for the earliest Christians’ highest Christology noted previously. On historical roots, it is worth considering the following comment by Burridge, Instead of peeling away the evangelists’ layers, we need them to reveal the impact Jesus had upon people and why his followers believed he was still alive. We require an historical ‘core’ to start it all off and to explain what produced these four extraordinary portraits. (Burridge 2005a, 172–173) Likewise, Allison argues for the importance of observing repeated patterns across various characteristics and sources as well as focusing on the overall impression the sources give in making historical claims about Jesus (Allison 2010, 14–16). He notes elsewhere that many scholars regard the Gospels as a subspecies of Greco-Roman biography (Burridge 2004). He also observes that ancient Jewish readers found their past in the so-called historical books of their Scriptures, which were understood as relating what really happened, and that there are evidences that the early readers of the Gospels understood them in that way as well (Allison 2010, 443–445). With regard to the earliest Christians’ perception of Jesus’ claims, it should be emphasized that we are not just dealing here with one isolated passage from one of the Gospels. Rather, a number of scholars have cited quite a few of them from all four Gospels as explained above, and we need to consider wider plausibility factors concerning the highest Christology of the earliest Christians and its origination as argued in previous chapters.

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It is instructive to compare my argument with Hurtado’s proposal concerning visionary experiences such as Stephen’s in Acts 7. With regard to the historicity issue, Hurtado says he is not claiming that each and every detail of the depiction of Stephen’s experience in Acts 7 is historical, stating that ‘this narrative may well reflect some dramatic heightening by the author’. Nevertheless ‘the story of the death of Stephen may preserve remembrance of the earliest such incident’, and it ‘may be taken by us as at least an indirect reflection of the sorts of visionary experiences that were reported among early Christians’ (Hurtado 2005, 70–71, 199). Likewise, I am arguing that, regardless of whether every detail of the depiction of the disciples’ experience of Jesus claiming to be truly divine in the Gospels is historical, the Gospels’ portrayals may have preserved remembrance of the earliest such incident and may be taken by us as an indirect reflection of the sorts of experiences that were reported among early Christians. Moreover, the historical plausibility of a Jesus ‘who said and did what only God could say and do’ (Grindheim’s phrase) is strengthened when we consider the point made earlier in Chapter 6 concerning the difficulty of regarding a flesh-and-blood human figure as the Creator of the universe, in the context of strict Jewish monotheism which the earliest Christians held. To overcome this difficulty, Jesus must have been perceived to have claimed and showed himself to be truly divine, in order that these disciples would eventually find it acceptable (after the ‘resurrection appearances’) to come to the widespread acknowledgement that he was truly divine. (As explained in Section 5.6.2, resurrection appearances [though important] by themselves would not have been sufficient to cause the pervasive and persistent conviction among the earliest Christians that Jesus was truly divine.) Showing himself to be truly divine would involve some of the actions Grindheim mentioned, including ‘miraculous deeds’. While ‘miracles’ by themselves do not warrant the conclusion that Jesus was truly divine (as noted earlier, prophets also supposedly did ‘miracles’), it would be quite difficult to think that the earliest Christian Jews could eventually come to the widespread acceptance of Jesus’ claim to be truly divine, if he was not perceived to have done ‘miracles’ during his ministry. New Testament scholar Graham Twelftree observes that there has been an increased interest in the study of Jesus’ ‘miracles’ in contemporary historical Jesus scholarship. This is contributed by numerous factors which include ‘the failure to show that miracles originated outside the Jesus tradition’; ‘the increased confidence in the historical

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reliability of the gospel traditions’ (Twelftree 2011, 2518–2519), ‘an increasingly rigorous philosophical and theological defense of the possibility of miracles’,18 and the ‘recognition that the miracle traditions have not arisen in an entirely credulous world’ (Twelftree 2011, 2518 n.10). Scholars of diverse worldviews have come up with various proposals concerning how Jesus should be understood as a miracle worker, such as a Gentile type of ‘divine man’ (θεῖος ἀνήρ) (e.g. Hahn 1969), a Jewish ‘holy man’ (e.g. Vermès 1973) or a ‘magician’ (e.g. Smith 1978), as well as various suggestions on what the ‘miracles’ meant.19 In response, Twelftree argues that, for Jesus, the ‘miracles’ expressed the kingdom of God and the compassion of Jesus in the lives of those who experienced them, and indicated that Jesus was a key figure in this kingdom. The importance of ‘miracles’ for the perception of Jesus’ self-understanding is indicated by the Gospels’ portrayal of Jesus who, in reply to the question whether he was ‘the one who is to come’, says ‘the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them’ (Matt 11:3, 5/Luke 7:19, 22) (Twelftree 2011, 2521; Twelftree goes on to cite other passages such as Matt 11:22/Luke 10:13 and Matt 12:28 /Luke 11:20; for more details, see Twelftree 1993; 1999). The strict Jewish monotheism of the earliest Christians and the widespread conviction among them that Jesus was involved in the work of creating all things – which have been defended in previous chapters – add another element to the historical consideration. For ‘miracles’ such as healing the blind and calming the storm at will (Mark 2:1–12; 3:1–12; 4:35–40; 5:1–37) would be the sort of things which the earliest Christian Jews would expect the Creator of the universe to be able to do. The apostles would have encountered many spontaneously arisen situations in their daily life with Jesus in first-century Palestine (e.g. meeting a blind person, facing a storm at sea) in which they would have easily found out whether Jesus could do such things. It is also noteworthy that the portrayal of Jesus doing many ‘miracles’ is not only found in the earliest traditions about Jesus which

18 For example, philosophers Moreland and Craig have argued that, instead of understanding a miracle as ‘a violation of the laws of nature’, a miracle should be understood as ‘an event which would not have been produced by the natural causes operative at a certain time and place’ (Moreland and Craig 2003, 566–568). Therefore, unless we assume that causes other than natural causes do not exist – which would be begging the question against the existence of God – miracles are possible. 19 Useful information concerning the relevant Greco-Roman, Jewish and early Christian background can be found in Becker (2002) and Eve (2002).

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were preserved in the four Gospels, but also in early non-Christian literature. For example, Josephus referred to Jesus as ‘a doer of “startling deeds” ’ (Ant. 18:63). Even the opponents of Christianity, such as Celsus (Origen, Contra Celsum 1.6, 28, 68, 71; 2.32, 48–49) as well as the rabbinical tradition (b. Sanh 43a; 107b), did not deny that Jesus had supernatural power but admitted to it. They only disputed the source of that power: for example, claiming that Jesus relied on demonic power (Stanton 1994; Van Voorst 2000, 114–119; in addition to the above, Stanton also cites other texts such as Justin, Dial. 69.7; 108; Justin, Apol. 1.30.1; Acts Thom. 96; 102; 106–107). In addition to miracles, the earliest Christian Jews would also have expected the Creator God to be perfectly good and to teach them moral truths, as affirmed in their Scriptures (e.g. Deut. 32:4; Ps. 86:11). In Jewish Scriptures the transcendent goodness of God is frequently contrasted with the sinfulness of mere humans, concerning whom the psalmist writes ‘All have turned away, all have become corrupt; there is no one who does good, not even one’ (Ps. 14:3). The standard of perfect goodness among the early Christians is evidently of a very stringent sort, as shown by Jesus’ teaching that people should love even their enemies and do good to them, his admonitions against lying, hypocrisy, etc.,20 and Paul’s description of perfect love as being patient, kind, not self-seeking, etc. (1 Cor. 13:4–7). It is noteworthy that, apart from Jesus, none of the prophets, teachers or ‘heroes of faith’ such as Abraham, Moses, David, Peter or Paul was ever portrayed as living up to a perfect standard of morality. On the contrary, the authors of the Scriptures revealed their flaws, such as lying, adultery, murder, etc., with blatant honesty. For the earliest Christians, not attaining to God’s absolute standard of goodness is ‘sin’, and all humans (except Jesus) were regarded as sinful (Rom. 3:23–26). This is consistent with Jesus’ saying that ‘No one is good but God alone’ (Mark 10:18; see Section 7.2). This indicates that the earliest Christians had an extremely stringent criterion for ‘living a sinless life’. It is therefore astonishing that the earliest Christians would regard Jesus to be sinless, and that they would place their salvation on this belief (e.g. 2 Cor. 5:21). It is unlikely that the earliest

20 Historians have argued that the best explanation for the origination of the moral teachings of the earliest Christians, such as to love one’s enemies and do good to them (Rom. 12:14, 17–20; 1 Cor. 4:12; 1 Thess. 5:15; 1 Peter 3:9), is that they came from Jesus himself. These teachings are found in the earliest traditions of Jesus preserved in the Four Gospels. See Piper (1979, 171–172).

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Christians could come to a widespread agreement that Jesus was truly divine and proclaim him as an atoning sacrifice for the sins of humanity, if they did not perceive Jesus to have consistently lived up to the stringent standard of perfect goodness which they held. While contemporary non-Christian Jewish opponents evidently denied that Jesus was sinless, their denial is arguably based on disputes concerning the claims of Jesus (e.g. Mark 14:61–64, see above) and their different interpretations of the Jewish Scriptures with regard to issues such as Sabbath observance, tithing and purity rules (see Meier 1991–2009, vol.3). In contrast with the Pharisees who expressed their concern for holiness by separating themselves from ‘sinners’, Jesus was known as ‘The Friend of Sinners’. New Testament scholar Richard Burridge observes that the historical Jesus’ very rigorous and demanding moral teaching might lead one to expect him to be the sort of person who has high standards for those around him, and whom ordinary fallible human beings would find rather uncomfortable. Yet, when we consider his activity, the exact opposite is the case (Burridge 2007, 62). Burridge writes the Jesus who taught a rigorous ethic in the areas of key human moral experience, such as money, sex, power and violence, also spent a large part of his time with ordinary people and even ‘sinners’ with difficulties in these areas. He not only accepted them, ate and drank with them, but also healed them from disease and impurity and probably saw his own death as ‘for’ them. (Burridge 2007, 68) Burridge also observes that At the very least, it is reasonable to assume that some teachers of the law would have debated with the historical Jesus … Both the four gospels and the great majority of historical reconstructions today agree that one of the main causes of offence which led to opposition to Jesus and to his eventual death arose from Jesus’ table fellowship of eating with tax collectors and sinners. (Burridge 2007, 62–63) Additionally, given the Jews’ strongly held notion of divine transcendence and their widespread expectation of a Messiah who would deliver them from foreign powers, it is easy to explain why the claim that a person shamefully crucified by the Romans was the Messiah and was truly divine would have been extremely difficult for these Jewish opponents to accept. (Indeed, it is noteworthy that, although

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there were a number of messianic movements between BC 150 and AD 150, these did not survive the violent death of their founders at the hands of their enemies [Wright 2003, 699].) What is more difficult to explain is how other Jews (e.g. the first disciples) could eventually come to the widespread conviction – which persisted and spread after his death  – that such a person was indeed truly divine and sinless. Given what has been said previously, the best explanation is that, in addition to perceiving Jesus’ claims and resurrection from the dead, the earliest Christians also perceived that Jesus’ ministry was marked by ‘miracles’, that he taught them about God’s purposes with a divine authority and that he manifested an extraordinary standard of moral behaviour. These factors should not be considered separately (each of them is insufficient but necessary for the explanation). Rather, they should be considered together (they are jointly sufficient for the explanation), with the resurrection appearances being the final and crowning piece of evidence for the earliest Christians. In summary, there are good reasons for thinking that the Gospels contain the required hint that the earliest Christians perceived Jesus to have claimed and showed himself to be truly divine. Where Jesus’ claim is concerned, the main proposal of this book is complementary to the proposals by Wright, Lee, Bock, Grindheim, etc. However, it is not dependent on any one of them. I have contributed to the discussion by suggesting that the roots of certain details in Matt. 28:16–20 and/or John 20:26–29 contain a memory of the ‘post-resurrection’ Jesus giving a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine. However, the main proposal of this book is not dependent on this particular suggestion either. All that it depends on is the defensibility of just one of the proposals – or one of the possible combinations of proposals – by Wright, Lee, Bock, Grindheim, etc., or the suggestion concerning Matt. 28:16–20, John 20:26–29, etc. In this chapter I have indicated the defensible elements in these proposals and suggested how some of them can be combined. Finally, my conclusion is consistent with the idea that, in addition to being perceived to have claimed to be truly divine, Jesus also served as a Jewish teacher and an apocalyptic prophet21 (although as noted earlier he was regarded as the ultimate prophet whose ‘I say to you’ sayings transcends the typical prophetic ‘Thus says the Lord’). The complexity of the historical character of Jesus is one which cannot be reduced to any single category. 21 For responses to objections concerning a number of Jesus’ prophecies, see Witherington (1992); Bock (2002, 234, 346–347, 572–574).

8 CONCLUSION

The question concerning the origin of divine Christology is an important question for anyone who is interested in how Christianity began. In this book, I have argued that there are significant problems with a variety of proposals in the literature. Against the Later Unfolding Theory (Dunn) and the Later Evolutionary Theory (Casey), I have argued that the highest Christology was present among the earliest Christians. This is indicated by various evidences in the earliest Christian documents, such as 1 Cor. 8:6, Phil. 2:6–11, the indications of devotional practices (e.g. ‘calling upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ in 1 Cor. 1:2) and the expressions of spiritual desire for Jesus. I have shown the inadequacies of various objections, defended the appropriateness of using philosophical distinctions (e.g. between ontology and function) and Trinitarian concepts for explaining early Christology, highlighted the importance of the Creator–creature divide in earliest Christianity and demonstrated that Jesus was regarded to be on the Creator side of this divide. I have also argued that highest Christology was widely held among the earliest Christians and replied to objections by Ehrman and others. The crucial question is how to explain this widespread conviction. I have argued that proposals which do not involve Jesus claiming to be truly divine, such as Early Evolutionary Theory (Bousset), Resurrection and Ascension Theory (Ehrman), Religious Experience Theory (Hurtado) and Theological Deduction Theory (DeConick), fail to account for this. I conclude that the best explanation for the origin of divine Christology involves the earliest Christians perceiving that Jesus claimed and showed himself to be truly divine. This conclusion is supported by various historical considerations, such as the earliest Christians’ regard for Jesus as the supreme communicator of God’s will, their evident concern to pass on the traditions of Jesus’ teachings, the difficulty of the idea of regarding a human Jesus as also

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truly divine, the issue of falsification of Jesus’ intention and the fact that Christ is the best historical explanation for a diversity of other peculiar beliefs and practices of the earliest Christians. I have argued that, to explain the widespread conviction, Jesus must have given a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine to a significant number of disciples. The early Christians subsequently modified the language that had been used in earlier literature to describe intermediaries such as the Word, Wisdom and Spirit, and utilized the modified language to express the highest Christology that came from Jesus. By basing the earliest Christians’ conviction that Jesus was truly divine on their understanding that this was God’s demand as known through Christ, my proposal is appropriately Theocentric and Christocentric. Finally, I have argued that traces of my proposal can be found in the ‘pre-resurrection’ and ‘post-resurrection’ passages in the Gospels. Concerning whether Jesus claimed to be truly divine, Ehrman objects by arguing at various points in his book that such claims are only found in the Gospel of John. He claims that they are not authentic because they are not multiply attested, not found in the Synoptic Gospels and do not pass the test of dissimilarity as they express the view that the author of the Gospel of John seems to hold. He also notes that, although we have a few of Jesus’ sayings in Paul, we do not find Jesus claiming to be divine in Paul. He argues that the view that Jesus claimed to be divine is not contextually credible because we have no record of other Palestinian Jews claiming to be divine, and that if one were to claim that Jesus was the exception one would need very strong evidence, but we have only the sayings in the Gospel of John which Ehrman thinks is unreliable (Ehrman 2014). In reply, it has been pointed out in Chapter 1 that the criterion of dissimilarity is highly problematic. Contrary to the implications of this criterion, it is plausible to suggest that that the author of John’s Gospel held certain views about Jesus because he wanted to follow the views of his beloved master, i.e. Jesus himself! Moreover, it has been argued in Chapter  7 that various statements and actions of Jesus portrayed in the Synoptic Gospels can be understood as implicit claims to be truly divine as well, and that the author of the Gospel of John is merely reflecting on Jesus’ indirect claims and making more explicit the full significance he finds in them (Bauckham 2011, 90–91). Likewise, Kruger explains,

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Conclusion We can agree that John’s Gospel makes such claims to divinity even more direct – as the last Gospel it is not surprising that it offers a more sustained theological reflection on the person of Jesus. But, we should not confuse the directness of a claim with the existence of a claim. The historical evidence suggests the Synoptic Jesus and the Johannine Jesus both claimed to be the God of Israel. (Kruger 2014)

Ehrman says, ‘If Jesus really were equal with God from “the beginning,” before he came to earth, and he knew it, then surely the Synoptic Gospels would have mentioned this at some point … But, no, in Matthew, Mark, and Luke he does not talk about himself in this way’ (Ehrman 2014, 270). However, this is an invalid form of argument from silence. Why must Jesus be portrayed by the Synoptics as saying ‘I am equal with God from the beginning’ if he knew it? Why can’t Jesus be portrayed by the Synoptics as giving less direct but nevertheless clear and unambiguous claims to true divinity (see Chapter  7), and letting the readers draw the implication? The latter might be more strategic and appropriate in certain circumstances given the strong Jewish reverence for God. It is true that the Synoptic Gospels do not explicitly declare Jesus as the pre-existent divine person who was on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide (cf. John 1:1–18 and the ‘I AM’ saying in John 8:58). However, it can be argued that one of the intentions of the authors of the Synoptic Gospels is to emphasize instead how the disciples gradually came to realize, through Jesus’ words and actions such as his ‘mighty works’ associated with God’s creative acts (McDonough 2009), that he was within the being of God the Creator (e.g. Matt. 28:19, see Chapter 7). Given the Jewish monotheistic pre-understanding, this implicitly carries the connotation of his pre-existence on the Creator side of the divide. As for Ehrman’s objection that we do not find Jesus claiming to be divine in Paul, this is another invalid argument from silence. It is instructive to compare Ehrman’s objection with Allison’s observation that 1 Cor. 15:3–11 contains only a bare outline listing the individuals and groups to whom Jesus was supposed to have appeared, without mentioning the details of the appearances. Allison insightfully argues that, since it is implausible that the Christians in Corinth (or anywhere else) would have believed based on the scanty information in 1 Cor. 15:3–8 alone without knowing (or at least wanting to know) some of the details (e.g. what did these disciples see? Did they touch

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Jesus?), 1 Cor. 15:3–8 must have been a summary of traditional resurrection narratives which were told in fuller forms elsewhere (Allison 2005, 235–239). Likewise, it can be argued that the best explanation for Paul’s failure to refer to important details concerning whether Jesus claimed to be truly divine – even though Paul himself regarded Jesus to be truly divine and was concerned to pass on Jesus’ teachings (see Chapters 2 and 6) – is that these details were told elsewhere. That is, Paul knew that these details were already in circulation in the form of various traditional narratives, some of which might have been included in the Gospels later, for example, in Mark 14:62, Matt. 28:16–20 and John 20:28–29 (see the argument for the historical root of these passages in Chapter 7). It may well be that there was no controversy about these details among the earliest Christians  – just as there was no controversy about Christ’s divinity among the earliest Christians, as argued in earlier chapters – therefore Paul did not see the need to discuss them. Ehrman’s argument from silence assumes that there was such a need, but he has not excluded other possible explanations such as those offered here, thus his argument fails. Ehrman might object that Paul did not say in his letters that ‘a sizeable group of earliest Christians perceived that Jesus claimed to be divine, and they thought that God vindicated this claim by raising Jesus from the dead’ was the cause of earliest highest Christology. In reply, Hurtado observes that the early Christians ‘were more concerned to proclaim Jesus’ significance and to express their devotion to him than to provide explanations of how they came to the convictions that prompted them to do so’ (Hurtado 2005, 198–199). Thus the key question of this book has to be answered by other historical considerations, and I  have argued that various historical considerations favour my proposal over the alternatives. If, as I have argued, a sizeable group of earliest Christians did perceive that Jesus claimed to be truly divine and the details of such event(s) were circulated elsewhere as traditional narratives which were well known to their audience, then there would have been no need for Paul to explain what was the cause of earliest highest Christology to his readers, since this would have been well known to them. As noted earlier, Ehrman objects that the view that Jesus claimed to be divine is not contextually credible because we have no record of other Palestinian Jews claiming to be divine. Likewise, it has been claimed that no first-century Jew could have thought of a human being – much less himself – as the incarnation of God. For example, Goulder writes, ‘Being a monotheist, Jesus cannot have thought

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of himself sanely as being Yahweh’ (Goulder 1979a, 143). Wright replies that this claim is what two generations of history-of-religions scholarship had presupposed, not usually argued (Wright 2003, 50). Now Ehrman does argue that, if one were to claim that Jesus was the exception one would need very strong evidence, but we have only the sayings in the Gospel of John. However, Ehrman’s argument is problematic. He seems to presuppose that ‘extraordinary claim requires extraordinary evidence’, a philosophical principle which is famously associated with David Hume’s objection to miracles (see his An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding [1777]). In reply, other scholars have warned that one must be careful not to exaggerate this sensible requirement into an insuperable epistemic barrier, as it would lead to the destruction of common sense and the failure to recognize extraordinary individuals and events. As philosopher Timothy McGrew explains, The 19th century saw a proliferation of satires in which Humean scruples about accepting testimony for extraordinary tales were applied to the events of secular history, with consequences that are equally disastrous and humorous … Whately’s satire, which is the most famous, ‘establishes’ on the basis of many historical improbabilities that Napoleon never existed but was a mythic figure invented by the British government to enhance national unity. (McGrew 2013) The lesson is that, while one may legitimately require more evidence for an extraordinary story than for a mundane story, one must be careful not to exaggerate this sensible requirement into an insuperable epistemic barrier, for this would result in a standard that cannot be applied without absurdity in any other field of historical investigation (McGrew 2013). To avoid the absurdities, one should not require the evidence for ‘extraordinary claim’ to be extraordinary in the sense of forming an insuperable epistemic barrier, but rather sufficient for demonstrating the unreasonableness of alternative hypotheses. Thus, if someone claims that he saw an aeroplane, one could easily believe the person without demanding evidence that would demonstrate the unreasonableness of alternative hypotheses. However, if someone claims that he saw a UFO with aliens, then one would need to consider this more carefully by examining whether there are evidences to rule out alternative explanations (e.g. hoax, mis-identifications). I have argued that we do have evidences to indicate the implausibility of those explanations concerning the origin of divine Christology

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which do not involve Jesus claiming to be truly divine. And contrary to Ehrman, the case for thinking that Jesus claimed to be truly divine is not merely based on the sayings in the Gospel of John, but also on a number of sayings in the Synoptics and, more importantly, the historical considerations evidently in the letters of Paul, as argued previously. To do history properly, one must allow for the possibility of exceptions involving extraordinary individuals, and the exception in this case is well justified by the evidences. Concerning Goulder’s claim, the fact that Jesus was a monotheist and held many beliefs that were the same as the Jews of his day does not imply that he could not have thought of and expressed beliefs about God (such as the belief that he and the Father are both within the one being of God, a belief which is consistent with monotheism as explained in previous chapters) that were beyond the Jews of his day. To claim that Jesus would have rejected the idea of himself as divine as blasphemous (Hick 1993, 27) or that ‘in the Jewish piety that Jesus shared, it would have been totally inappropriate for him to claim any status until it had been conferred by God’1 would be to foreclose what texts like Dan. 7:9–13 may well have permitted (Boyarin 2012; Hamilton 2014, ch.6; see Chapter  3 of this book). Additionally, it would beg the question against various possibilities, such as the possibility that Jesus was indeed truly divine and knew this all along, and thus could have regarded it appropriate and in accordance with the will of the Father to claim this status in order to reveal his identity to his disciples.2 Proponents of this view might argue that Ehrman’s observation that we have no record of other Palestinian Jew claiming to be truly divine only goes to show how difficult it would have been to make up such a claim or to be mistaken about it, given the Jewish monotheistic context.3 In any case, the point here is that a historian qua historian should not beg the question for or against such possibilities. If one were to exclude a priori the possibility that Jesus was indeed truly divine such that he could have thought of and expressed beliefs about God that were beyond the Jews of his day, it would be to import theological and philosophical assumptions into 1

I thank Professor Hurtado for mentioning this point in private conversation. One might object that the claim that Jesus was truly divine and yet human is logically incoherent (compare the discussion of ‘ortho-paradoxes’ in Ehrman 2014, ch.9). I have replied to this objection in Loke (2014). 3 For a discussion of the possibilities, see the exchange between Davis (2004; 2009) and Howard-Snyder (2009) and between Williams (2016a, 2016b) and Barkman (2016a, 2016b). My book responds to the sort of objections Barkman raises. 2

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his/her judgement. Likewise, if one were to exclude, on the basis of naturalistic assumptions against the resurrection, the possibility that the root of certain detail(s) in Matt. 28:16–20 and/or John 20:26–29 could have been a memory of the ‘post-resurrection’ Jesus giving a clear indication that he regarded himself as truly divine, this would be to import theological and philosophical assumptions into his/her judgement as well. Concerning the historical question whether Jesus claimed to be truly divine, a historian should make his/her judgement based on historical considerations  – such as those listed below  – rather than assuming beforehand whether divine intervention is or is not possible and then make his/her judgement on the basis of such assumptions. The historical considerations which I have established in this book include the following: (1) (2)

(3)

(4) (5)

(6)

(7)

The conviction that Jesus was truly divine was present among the earliest Christians. This conviction was held by certain Jews who remained deeply committed to their monotheism with its strict Creator–creature divide. The worship of another figure (i.e. Jesus) alongside God the Father was probably the greatest change for these Christian Jews. Those who held this conviction included those traditionalist Jewish Christians who opposed Paul. The earliest Christians did not avoid disagreements with one another in matters of importance, and traces of such disagreements can be found in the earliest Christian documents. The conviction that Jesus was truly divine was widespread and persistent among the earliest Christians from the very beginning. There is no trace of disagreement concerning this in the earliest Christian documents. On the contrary, there are evidences for thinking that Paul considered the Jerusalem saints to be fully Christian, assumed the authority of Jerusalem leaders and proclaimed the same gospel concerning Jesus Christ; these evidences imply that Paul’s highest Christology was also the Christology of the Jerusalem Christians. Considering the strict Jewish monotheistic context of the earliest Christians, it is unlikely that the idea of worshipping a human figure whom some of them had followed closely for some time could have originated from them.

Conclusion (8)

(9)

(10)

(11) (12)

(13)

(14)

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Even if it did, it is unlikely that other earliest Christians would have followed and maintained this idea, especially if they knew that Jesus himself did not have such an idea. Additionally, there would have been those among Jesus’ earliest disciples who would have defended Jesus’ own views against such falsification; in which case there would not have been widespread acknowledgement that he was truly divine. The idea that the human Jesus should be worshipped alongside God the Father while maintaining strict monotheism was a difficult idea to originate and maintain. It was a disadvantageous idea to originate. The earliest Christians were concerned to pass on the traditions of Jesus’ teachings, and they would have been interested in what the historical Jesus himself thought or would think about the worship of him. The view that, in order to know a person’s identity, it is important to know what he/she thinks about himself/herself and what he/she does, was present among the first-century Christians. The best historical explanation for a wide variety of peculiar beliefs and practices of the earliest Christians is that they were following Jesus.

With regard to the historical question concerning whether Jesus was perceived to have claimed to be truly divine, the above historical considerations, taken together, are evidences that he was. On the other hand, it has been explained in previous chapters that the Later Unfolding Theory (e.g. Dunn) and the Later Evolutionary Theory (e.g. Casey) are contradicted by Consideration 1, the Early Evolutionary Theory (e.g. Bousset) and the Resurrection and Ascension Theory (Ehrman) do not fit Considerations 2 to 14, and the Religious Experience Theory (Hurtado) and the Theological Deduction Theory (DeConick) do not fit Considerations 4 to 14. It might be objected that Considerations 4, 6 and 9 are based on argument from silence. In reply, I have already defended the validity of using an argument from silence for these considerations in Chapters 5 and 6, and I have also shown that these considerations are not merely based on silence; on the contrary, there are also positive evidences which imply that Paul’s highest Christology was also the Christology of the Jerusalem Christians. Moreover, Considerations 4, 6 and 9 are only one part of my cumulative-case argument in this

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book. The other parts of my argument include the historical considerations numbered 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14, and these do not involve argument from silence. Thus, my conclusion is not entirely dependent on the argument from silence. On the contrary, Considerations 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14 are already sufficient to constitute a powerful cumulative case for my conclusion, and the argument from silence (together with the positive evidences for Considerations 4, 6 and 9) only adds to the case to make it even more powerful. Conversely, given the context of Considerations 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14, the argument from silence is even more plausible. It should be emphasized that these considerations should not be assessed separately when we examine the origin of divine Christology. Rather, they should be considered together as part of a cumulative case. Taken separately, one might find a number of exceptions in the history of religions to some of these considerations. For example, taken apart from the consideration of monotheism, we do find many exceptions to Consideration 8 in certain pantheistic or polytheistic cultures in which ‘good’, ‘noble’ and ‘heroic’ people are thought to become divine after their death, regardless of whether they regarded themselves as divine when they were alive. However, such ‘exceptions’ to Consideration 8 are irrelevant when we consider the case of Jesus, whose truly divine status was affirmed by Christian Jews who held to a strict form of monotheistic belief with its sharp Creator–creature divide (see Chapters 2 to 4). In what follows, I  shall consider two cases which are apparently more relevant and which are likely to be the two most striking potential counter-examples to my argument, one coming out from the Christian tradition and the other from the Jewish tradition. These two cases are the deification of the Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie (1892–1975) by members of the Rastafarian faith, which claims hundreds of thousands of adherents worldwide, and the deification of Menachem Mendel Schneersohn (1902–1994) by members of the Elokist Chabad Jews. These two cases are more relevant than the new religious movements discussed in Hurtado (2005, 203–204; see Chapter 5): The Qumran ‘Teacher of Righteousness’, Muhammad, Baha Ullah, Guru Nanak, and the American native ‘Ghost Dance’ and ‘Handsome Lake’ movements. Although these movements involve religious experiences generating modifications in devotional practice, they do not involve a deification of human figure against his/her own will in a monotheistic tradition. Whereas the cases of Selassie and Schneersohn apparently do, and mystical religious

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experiences were involved as well. Examining these two cases might seem a strange task for biblical scholars, nevertheless the usefulness of such a procedure is well stated by Cameron and Miller: Like anthropologists, biblical scholars can gain insight from the study of texts and cultures that appear to be strange, uncommon, or remote. ‘For there is extraordinary cognitive power in … “defamiliarization”  – [in] making the familiar seem strange in order to enhance our perception of the familiar.’ Since the origins of Christianity seem so self-evident to most students and scholars of the New Testament, what is needed is another point of departure, some other text or topic that will enable us to retest the discoveries of the past and see old truths in a new light. (Cameron and Miller 2004, 19)4 Thus, I  shall end this book by testing my historical considerations and conclusion in light of these two ‘strange cases’. With regard to the case which came from the Christian tradition, the deification of Selassie is remarkable in a number of ways. The deification of other figures, such as ancient Roman emperors and the Indian Guru Sai Baba (1926–2011), occurred with relative ease in largely polytheistic or pantheistic cultures (as noted in Chapter 3, even those so-called ancient pagan monotheists condoned the worship of many divine beings; see Athanassiadi and Frede 1999, 9). By contrast, the deification of Selassie started among Jamaican Christians who were supposed to be monotheists. More shockingly, unlike those figures who claimed to be divine and who led their followers to hold such a view (e.g. Antiochus IV Epiphanes [c. 215 BC – 164 BC]; Jim Jones [1931–1978]), the deification of this Ethiopian emperor seems to have been against the will of the emperor himself, and it began when he was still alive. It should be noted that cases of historical figures who claimed some kind of exalted status, such as being the brother of Jesus (e.g. Hong Xiuquan 1814–1864,

4 In their work in the Redescribing Early Christianity Group of the Society of Biblical Literature, Cameron and Miller (2004; 2011) rightly emphasize the importance of social anthropology for studying Christian origins. However, their publications are affected by a surprising lack of engagement with the analysis of textual evidence by scholars of the New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule such as Martin Hengel and Larry Hurtado, summarized in the earlier chapters of this book. A  historian should not merely focus on social anthropology and neglect the relevant textual evidences; rather he/she needs to take into account the whole range of evidences.

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the leader of the Taiping Rebellion in China; for other examples, see Allison 2010, 253–263), should not be regarded as counter-examples to my conclusion. The reason is because I am arguing that Jesus was perceived to have made a claim to exalted status himself. To qualify as a potential counter-example, the historical figure must have been exalted against his will rather than in accordance with his claim, and Selassie’s case seems to fulfil this necessary condition. How did this remarkable event happen? The main event which led to Selassie’s deification was the ‘prophetic’ preaching of Marcus Garvey (1887–1940), who exhorted the oppressed Jamaicans to ‘Look to Africa for the crowning of a Black King; he shall be the Redeemer’. Together with Selassie’s coronation in 1930 in front of representatives from many nations, his declaration of himself to be in the line of King Solomon and his taking of the names Haile Selassie I (Might of the Trinity), ‘King of Kings’ and ‘Lion of the Tribe of Judah’, many Jamaicans came to think of him as the fulfilment of messianic prophecy and even God incarnate (Partridge 2005, 320–321). While Rastafarians have been interested to pass on certain teachings of Selassie (e.g. his speeches), many of them interpreted Selassie’s denial of divinity as an expression of his humility and wisdom. An objector to my proposal might therefore argue that the case of Selassie provides a rare, but compelling counter-example to my claim that the considerations which I have listed above warrant the conclusion that Jesus claimed to be truly divine. On closer examination, however, certain problems emerge concerning this potential counter-example. Scholars have noted that, in the years prior to the emergence of Rastafarianism, Afrocentric kinds of Christian beliefs and cultic practices, including worship of sky-bound spirits, angels and archangels alongside the Triune God, had separated from orthodox Christianity and become dominant in Jamaica (Partridge 2005, 310–312). The subsequent preaching of the deity of Selassie was informed by this Afro-Christian occulture and by a strongly immanentist theology in which the divine was understood to be present within all people (Partridge 2005, 321–322). One of the Rastafarians’ earliest leaders, Leonard Howell, also claimed to be divine himself (Edmonds 2003, 37–40). Rastafarian religiosity is characterized by a focus on the individual’s mystical links with God and the cosmic energy called earthforce; it de-emphasizes dogma and social organization (Edmonds 2003, 68). The above-mentioned factors made it easier for the idea of Selassie’s divinity to originate and be widely accepted. By contrast, as argued in previous chapters,

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the earliest Christian Jews were deeply committed to a strict form of monotheism with its clear Creator–creature divide (Considerations 2, 3, 4, 7 and 10), and there is no indication that their leaders such as Peter and Paul claimed to be divine. With respect to Consideration 14, it is noteworthy that a wide variety of peculiar Rastafarian beliefs did not originate from Selassie in Ethiopia, rather they originated in faraway Jamaica under the leadership of Howell and others who developed several central beliefs and practices, such as the sacramental use of cannabis, from a range of sources (Partridge 2005, 324). Mystical experiences seem to have been more important for many Rastafarians than finding out from Selassie who he thought he was (cf. Consideration 13). Nevertheless, with respect to Considerations 5, 6 and 9, there have been traces of discussion and disagreement among the claimed followers of Selassie within forty years after his death concerning whether he was truly divine. Certain Rastafarians such as members of the ‘Twelve Tribes of Israel’ sect who have continued to honour Selassie have nevertheless denied that he was divine (Partridge 2005, 321). Of course, if we define Rastafarians as those who regard Selassie as divine, then the members of this sect would not be considered Rastafarians, but this would then be a circular argument against my consideration (there are nevertheless some others who have ceased from calling themselves Rastafarians altogether because of Selassie’s denial of his divinity).5 As explained in Chapter 1, I avoid circularity in my argument by defining ‘Christians’ broadly as ‘those who claimed to follow Jesus’ rather than as ‘those who regarded Jesus as truly divine’. It is also significant that the overwhelming majority of Selassie’s supporters in Ethiopia, who knew him better and followed him more closely than those in faraway Jamaica, do not regard him as divine, and there are traces of disagreements between these two groups. For example, the former group has condemned the Jamaican Rastafarians’ deification of Selassie as madness (MacLeod 2014, 65–66, 75–76). This is unlike the case of Jesus, in which the acknowledgement that he was truly divine was widely held by his earliest disciples, which included those who had followed him closely for some time in Palestine (Considerations 7 and 8; see Chapters 2 to 4).

5 Some of these discussions can be found on Internet forums http://forums.rasta-man. co.uk/smf/index.php?topic=1837.0;wap2; www.orthodoxchristianity.net/forum/index. php?topic=26385.25;wap2; www.answers.com/Q/Did_Haile_Selassie_accept_being_considered_God_by_the_Rastafarians (accessed 9 October 2015).

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Let us consider the second case, the deification of Schneersohn within the Jewish tradition. Concerning this tradition, it has been noted in previous chapters that there is no example of cultic practice of worship (rather than merely literary speculation) of human figures in Second Temple Judaism that is analogous to the worship of Jesus. One could hardly find any such examples in the subsequent history of Judaism either. Although there were many messianic figures such as Judas Maccabeus (d. 160 BCE), Theudas (?–46 CE), Simon Bar Kokhba (d. 135), Abu Isa (eighth century) and Abraham Abulafia (1240–c.1291) (Lenowitz 1998), these were not regarded by their followers to be on the Creator side of the Creator–creature divide but merely as human agents of God. A minority of followers of Sabbatai Zevi (1626–1676) came to regard him and his supposed successor Barukhia Russo (d. 1720 or 1721) to be Messiah and divine. However, their beliefs could hardly be considered as strictly monotheistic since they distinguished Zevi and Russo from the supreme God who was thought to have no concern for this world (Lenowitz 1998, 169–170; it is also interesting to note that they believed that there was a higher form of Torah which commanded them to practise incest and adultery). Additionally, Zevi and Russo had made exalted claims about themselves prior to their exaltation by these followers, and therefore they cannot be regarded as genuine counter-examples to my proposal that Jesus was perceived to have made exalted claims about himself. A more noteworthy case is that of Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, an outstanding rabbi (‘Rebbe’) and popular leader of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement. A  personality cult grew around him, a proportion of his followers exalted him as the Messiah (‘Moshiach’) and a tiny minority of extremists (the Elokists) even considered him to be divine. Remarkably, this started among Jews who were supposed to be monotheists and against the will of Schneersohn himself.6 Nevertheless, on closer inspection it is observed that the Chabad doctrines, which had originated centuries earlier, had already

6 It has been argued by others that Schneersohn did believe that he was the messiah but he remained equivocal (Allison 2010, 258–263), but if that were the case it wouldn’t be a counter-example to my conclusion that claims about Jesus were perceived to have come from Jesus himself. I also argued in Chapter 5 that if Jesus’ claims were unclear and equivocal there would have been significant disagreements among his earliest followers, and as noted in the text below there has indeed been significant disagreement among Schneersohn’s earliest followers concerning his status, with the majority of the leaders arguing against the view that he was the Messiah (let alone divine).

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compromised the traditional Jewish monotheistic Creator–creature divide by developing a theosophical system in which all things in the world are permeated by a divine element and which denies that the world is a distinct entity from the divine essence (Skolnik and Berenbaum 2007, vol.4, 554; cf. Considerations 2, 3, 4, 7 and 10). Even then, many Chabad leaders would have felt uncomfortable with the deification of human beings, and it is noteworthy that the Elokists constitute only a tiny minority of Schneersohn’s followers. By contrast, as argued in earlier chapters, there was widespread agreement that Jesus was truly divine among the earliest Christians who affirmed the traditional Jewish monotheistic Creator–creature divide. More importantly, in a manner consistent with Consideration 9, Schneersohn’s emissaries have fiercely defended the views of Schneersohn himself by criticizing those who exalted his status (Skolnik and Berenbaum 2007, vol.18, 149). A statement issued by the Central Committee of Chabad-Lubavitch Rabbis in United States and Canada on 19 February 1998 provides an illuminating confirmation of the predictions of the considerations which I listed. In that statement, the highest ranked leaders of the movement condemned the deification of any human being as ‘contrary to the core and foundation of the Jewish faith’, and they mentioned that ‘The preoccupation with identifying [the deceased] Rebbe as Moshiach is clearly contrary to the Rebbe’s wishes.’ By contrast, there is no indication that the strict monotheistic Jewish leaders of the earliest Christian movement (i.e. the Twelve, James or Paul) condemned the deification of Jesus as ‘contrary to the core and foundation of the Jewish faith’, and there is no indication that they mentioned that ‘the preoccupation with identifying the deceased Jesus as Messiah or as truly divine is clearly contrary to Jesus’ wishes’. On the contrary, there were evidences of widespread agreement that he was truly divine. Hence, instead of being genuine counter-examples to the considerations which I  have listed, these two fascinating cases actually serve to illustrate the strength of these considerations, taken together. One might object that historical figures sometimes become the object of religious worship because this helps the preservation of group coordination efficiency for groups above a certain size-threshold (Dávid-Barrett and Carney 2015; citing the example of Rastafarianism along with others such as Roman imperial worship, the deification of Aztec emperors, Egyptian pharaonic gods and ancestor worship). However, the preservation of group coordination efficiency is clearly not the only consideration relevant to

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deification, and it may be overridden by other considerations, such as beliefs concerning a strict Creator–creature divide. As noted earlier, it is significant that there is hardly any example of cultic worship of human figures in Second Temple Judaism and in the subsequent history of Judaism, even though this might have helped the preservation of group coordination efficiency in certain conditions. Additionally, even if deification occurs, there would likely have been evidences of disagreements rather than widespread acknowledgement among the earliest followers, if this leader himself had not claimed to be truly divine. It is true that factors such as social oppression, mystical experiences and charismatic leadership can spark remarkable transformation of beliefs among certain people, sometimes even to the extent of going beyond and contrary to the views of those leaders concerning their own identities. However, as illustrated by the case of Schneersohn, there would likely have been a significant number of earliest followers who had heard from those charismatic leaders themselves and who would defend the views of their beloved leaders against a falsification of their identities. The above-mentioned considerations, together with the previously mentioned dissimilarities between the cases of Schneersohn and Selassie and that of Jesus, the rarity of potential counter-examples and the lack of any genuine counter-example, indicate that Jesus must have been perceived by the earliest Christians to have made exalted claims about himself. Following the good historical methodology of assessing what is the best explanation for a set of historical phenomena and considerations, it is very difficult to avoid the conclusion that the most plausible explanation which can address all fourteen considerations adequately is that the earliest Christians regarded Jesus as truly divine, because they thought it was God’s demand which was known in the following way: A sizeable group of earliest Christians perceived that Jesus claimed and showed himself to be truly divine, and they thought that God vindicated this claim by raising Jesus from the dead. From a historical perspective, this is the best explanation for the origin of divine Christology.

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SCRIPTURE AND APOCRYPHA INDEX

Page numbers in italic refer to footnotes. 6:4–9, 45 Genesis 6:5, 78 1:26–27, 34–35, 62 10:17, 72 3:15, 73 13:1–5, 44 4:26, 42 18:15, 73 6, 52 32:4, 191 6:2–4, 70 32:17, 54 13:4, 42 32:21, 54 16:7–13, 67 21:33, 42 Judges 25:23, 73 2:1, 67 26:26, 42 1 Samuel 41:50–51,  32n. 5 15:29, 63–64 49:10, 73 2 Samuel 7, 69 Exodus 7:12–14, 52 3:2, 67 7:14–16, 70–71 3:6, 67 2 Kings 3:13–15, 175 17:35–36, 95 3:14, 67 1 Chronicles 4:16, 53 29:20, 61 7:1, 77, 168n. 9 10:2, 47 Job 22:27, 169n. 10 1:6, 70 22:28, 50 23:20–21, 66–68 Psalms 34:6, 157 2, 69–70 2:7, 53, 70, 84, Numbers 87–88, 92n. 4 24:17, 73 2:7–8, 70–71 8, 118 Deuteronomy 14:3, 191 6:4, 26–27, 78, 125

232

Scripture and Apocrypha Index 16:11, 46 21:6, 46 22, 155 27:4, 46 35:23, 180, 183 42:2, 46 42:2–3, 46 45, 69–70 45:6, 69, 70 45:6–7, 53 51:11, 46 63:1, 46 72, 73 73:3f, 46 73:25, 46 78:6, 42 79:18, 42 82, 52 82:6, 12, 67n. 7 82:7, 54 82:8, 54 84:10, 46 85:10–11, 55n. 2 86:11, 191 89, 73 89:20–27, 71 89:24, 70 89:26–27, 90–91 89:28–37, 70 95:2, 46 96:4–5, 13, 58, 61, 63 100:2, 46 104:1, 42 104:3, 63n. 5, 74 105:4, 46 110, 69–70, 76 110:1, 52, 53, 70, 137, 167, 169 118:4, 42 132, 73 136:2, 60 Proverbs 8, 52, 63n. 4 8:22, 55, 156, 159 8:22–25, 32

233

9:13–18, 55 18:10, 175 Isaiah 4:2, 73 7:14, 73 9:6, 73 9:6–7, 53, 71–74, 141 10:21, 72 11:1, 73 11:2–4, 72 11:10, 73 19:1, 63n. 5, 74 37:20, 157 40:13, 55 43:10, 157 44:24, 15, 16n. 16, 28, 54n. 1, 55, 82 45, 125 45:22–25, 121, 147 45:23, 39–40, 76 53, 139 54:5–6, 47 61:1, 72 62:5, 47 64:6, 42 Daniel 2:46, 62, 63 2:48–9, 62 3, 63 7, 52, 74–75, 140n. 3, 170, 177, 179–180 7:9–13, 199 7:13, 169 7:13–14, 66n. 6, 76 Hosea 2:16, 47 4:1, 47 6:6, 47 11:1, 53, 70 Joel 2:28, 79

234

Scripture and Apocrypha Index

Joel (cont.) 2:32, 27, 42 Micah 5:2, 74 Jeremiah 10:25, 42 31:9, 32n. 5, 70 31:34, 47 32:18, 72 Zephaniah 3:9, 42 Zechariah 3:1–10,  67n. 7 13:9, 42 Sirach 34:1–8, 128 45:1–5, 52 2 Esdras, 72, 74 Matthew 1:20, 67n. 7 1:23, 174 2:2–11, 161 3:11, 171 3:15, 89 4:6, 68 4:11, 68 4:16, 72 5:9, 124 5:21–26, 166 5:32, 135 5:39, 135 5:44, 135 7:6, 179 7:22, 171 8:2, 161 9:2, 186 9:18, 161 10:10, 135 10:41–42, 40 11:2–6, 136–137

11:3, 190 11:5, 173, 190 11:22, 190 11:25–27, 167, 185–186 12:21, 171 12:28, 190 14:33, 161 15:25, 161 18:20, 171 18:26, 96 19:17, 154 19:28, 21n. 25 20:20, 161 23:34–36, 171 24:5, 171 24:30–32, 135 25:34–46, 173 26:53, 68 26:63–66, 168 26:64–65, 186 28:16–17, 127 28:16–20, 109, 150–151, 174–180, 181n. 16, 187–188, 193, 200 28:17, 68 28:19, 112, 126, 151, 174–180, 187–188 Mark 1:4, 89 1:8, 171 1:9, 89 1:9–11, 83, 88–90 1:13, 68 2, 186 2:1–12, 171, 172, 190 2:5–6, 58–59 2:12, 171 2:28, 171 3:1–12, 172, 190 4:35–40, 172, 190 5:1–37, 172, 190 9:2–10, 89 9:32, 162 10:11–13, 135 10:18, 186, 191 10:18–21, 153–154

Scripture and Apocrypha Index 10:45, 155 12:1–12, 167, 185 12:28–31, 65, 175 12:29–30, 90 12:35–36, 167 13:6, 171 13:27, 68 13:32, 167, 185 14:22–25, 135 14:36, 20 14:61–63, 185–186 14:61–64, 58–59, 167–168, 192 14:62, 170 14:63, 169 15:24, 155 15:29, 155 15:34, 153, 154–155, 157–158 16:8, 178 16:14, 127 16:14–20, 174 Luke 1:4, 87 1:11, 67n. 7 1:32, 87 1:35, 75, 87 1:43, 87 1:51, 87 1:79, 72 2:9, 67n. 7 2:11, 87 3:3, 178 3:15, 136–137 3:16, 171 3:22, 84, 87, 88n. 3, 91 3:38, 70 4:3, 87 4:9, 87 4:10, 68 4:41, 87 6:27–28, 135 7:18–23, 136–137 7:19, 190 7:22, 190 8:28, 87

9:35, 84, 87, 91 10:7, 135 10:13, 190 10:21–22, 167, 185 11:17–23, 173 11:20, 190 16:18, 135 20:44, 70 21:8, 171 22:30, 21n. 25 22:67–71, 168 22:70, 87 24, 148 24:36–41, 127 24:36–49, 174 24:47, 178 24:50–52, 109 24:52, 68, 79 John 1:1, 156, 157n. 3, 159 1:1–3, 156, 158 1:1–14,  24n. 1 1:14, 157 1:18, 159 1:33, 171 4:20–24, 158 4:23–24, 182–183 5:17–18, 158 5:19, 156, 158 5:19–23, 147, 149 5:22–23, 148 5:26, 155, 158 5:30, 158 6:57, 158 7:16, 156, 158 7:16–7, 167 8:41, 158 8:44, 157 8:54, 158 8:58, 158, 181 8:58–59, 157, 187 10:29, 159 10:33-36, 67n. 7 10:37,  66n. 6

235

236

Scripture and Apocrypha Index

John (cont.) 10:38, 66n. 6 13:16, 159 14:28, 156, 159 15:26, 171 17:2, 157 17:3, 155, 157 20:17, 156, 157–158 20:19–23, 174 20:24–29, 127 20:26–29, 187–188, 193, 200 20:28, 24n. 1, 156n. 2, 158, 159 20:28–29, 109, 126, 156, 180–185, 187–188 Acts 2:17–21, 125, 128 2:21, 42, 80 2:33, 171 2:36, 80, 83, 84, 86–87, 88, 148 2:38, 80, 177, 178 3–4, 106 3:6, 80 3:16, 80 4:10, 80 4:12, 79 4:17–18, 80 4:30, 80 5:12–42, 106 5:31, 83 5:40, 80 5:41, 107 6:8–15, 106 7, 189 7:54–56, 120–121, 126 7:58, 120 7:59–60, 120–121 8:12, 80 8:16, 177 9:14, 42, 80, 106–107 9:21, 42, 80, 106–107 10:25, 182 10:25–26, 61, 79, 96

10:48, 80, 177 11:2, 101, 128 13:32, 83 13:32–33, 84 13:33, 87–88, 92n. 4 13:34, 88 14:8–18, 60–61 14:11–18, 182 15:1–35, 110 19:5, 80, 177 21:20, 103 22:16, 42 26:9, 107 Romans 1:3–4, 83, 84–86 1:4, 84, 85–86 1:18–25, 13, 59, 65 1:20, 20 1:25, 56, 58, 59, 63, 65 3:23–26, 191 3:25, 96 3:30, 20, 25, 60 5:12–21, 34 6:3, 177 6:3–4, 178 8:3, 33 8:15, 91 8:23, 91 8:29, 91 9:4, 91 10:9–13, 27, 115 10:12–13, 42 11:35, 28n. 4 11:36, 28–29 11:36a, 27–28 12:1, 95 12:14, 135, 191n. 20 12:17, 135 12:17–20, 191n. 20 13:1–7, 83 15:3, 102 15:6, 80 16:7, 108 16:20, 42

Scripture and Apocrypha Index 1 Corinthians 1:2, 42–43, 104 1:9, 25, 47 1:11–15, 175–176 1:12, 110 1:13–15, 178 1:18–25, 32 1:22, 116 1:23, 103, 104, 139 1:24, 31–32 2:10–11, 76 3:5–9, 110 3:19–23, 31 3:22, 109 3:23, 81, 82 4:12, 191n. 20 4:26, 125 4:30–32, 125 6:11, 43 6:13, 45, 95 7:10f, 135 7:34–35, 45, 95 8, 60, 89 8:1–3, 29 8:4, 25, 60 8:4–6, 60, 65 8:5, 31, 60 8:6, 13, 16, 20, 25, 26–32, 39, 54n. 1, 64, 66, 68, 76–77, 81, 86, 102, 104, 115, 125, 175, 184 9:5, 109 9:14, 135 10, 60, 89 10:14–22, 43, 60 10:19–20, 60 11:1, 81 11:3, 81, 82 11:23–25, 135 11:23–26, 43, 108 11:29–32, 43 12:4–6, 178, 179 12:4–11, 44 13:4–7, 191 14:26, 120, 128 14:29, 128, 149

14:30–32, 128 15:1–11, 108 15:3, 108 15:3–8, 196–197 15:5, 20n. 24, 21n. 25 15:6, 134 15:11, 65, 108 15:14–19, 134 15:20–28, 148 15:21–22, 34 15:24–28, 46, 81, 82 15:27, 118 15:30–32, 134 15:44b–49, 34 16:3–4, 111 16:12, 110 16:22, 42–43, 115 16:23, 42 2 Corinthians 1:3, 80 3:18, 35 4:4, 35, 50, 60 4:6, 35 5:9, 45, 95 5:16, 102, 135 5:16–18, 28 5:21, 191 10:1–11, 102 11:1–3, 102 11:2–3, 47 11:4, 101–103 11:23–26, 103 11:31, 80 12:1–4, 120, 126 12:7, 125, 128 12:11–12, 102 13:1–4, 102 13:14, 178, 179 Galatians 1:6–10, 101 1:11–12, 108n. 2 1:13–14, 103, 105, 107 1:15–16, 125, 128 1:18, 135

237

238

Scripture and Apocrypha Index

Galatians (cont.) 1:23, 65, 108 2, 144 2:2, 109, 125, 128 2:7–9, 65, 108 2:10, 112 2:11, 110 2:11–14, 101, 128 2:11–21, 134 3:13, 103 3:20, 60 3:26, 70 3:27, 177 4:4, 33, 86 4:5, 91 4:8, 15 4:8–9, 50 4:14, 53, 68 6:12, 103 Ephesians 4:6, 25 Philippians 1:21, 45 1:22–23, 45 2:5, 81 2:6, 14, 82 2:6–7, 32 2:6–11, 16, 25, 33–41, 43–44, 54n. 1, 64, 76–77, 84, 86, 91–93, 121 2:7, 14, 16, 81 2:7–8, 82 2:8, 20 2:9, 107n. 1 2:9–11, 39–41, 50, 52, 82, 93, 115, 121, 125, 147–148, 149–150 2:10–11, 76 2:11, 80 3:2, 144 3:5–6, 107 3:6, 103, 105 3:8, 45, 46–47

3:10, 45 3:19, 60 Colossians 1:15, 32, 35, 62, 64 1:15–20, 86 1:16, 28, 64, 66, 68 1:18, 86 2:18, 64, 68 1 Thessalonians 1:9, 157 1:9–10, 25, 60, 89 2:14–16, 103 2:17, 45 3:10, 45 3:11–13, 42 4:15–17, 135 4:17, 46 4:17–18, 42 5:10–11, 42 5:15, 135, 191n. 20 5:19–22, 125, 128 2 Thessalonians 2:16–17, 42 3:5, 42 1 Timothy 2:5, 25 2 Timothy 2:22, 42 Titus 1:2, 63–64 Hebrews 1:1–4, 148 1:2, 28, 66 1:3b, 15 1:5, 68, 87 1:8, 69n. 8 1:13, 68 2:10, 27 5:5, 87 6:17–18, 63–64 7:10, 73

Scripture and Apocrypha Index James 2:14–26, 112 1 Peter 3:9, 191n. 20 4:16, 40 2 Peter 1:4, 62 3:15–16, 111 1 John 1:1, 149 2:20–25, 149

4:1–6, 149 4:2, 109–110 Revelation 3:21, 170 5:1–14, 120, 126 6:10, 157 11, 118 19:10, 68, 182 22:8, 182 22:9, 68

239

INDEX OF OTHER ANCIENT SOURCES

Page numbers in italic refer to footnotes. 2 Enoch Acts of Thomas 22:1–10, 52 96, 191 22:5–10, 51 102, 191 24:1–3, 51 106–107, 191 33:4, 55 Apocalypse of Abraham, 52 3 Enoch, 67 10:3, 51 3–16, 168n. 9 17:2, 51 10–12, 51 Apocalypse of Ezra, 76n. 12 16, 58 2 Baruch 51:3–10, 52 Eusebius of Caesarea, 176–177 Commentarius in Lucae Cyril of Alexandria Evangelium 6, 37 De adoratione 1.25, 37 Historia ecclesiastica 8.12.2, 37 Ezekiel the Tragedian Dead Sea Scrolls Exagoge 68–89, 4QPrNab 242 4 (Prayer of 168n. 9 Nabonidus), 171, 172 4 Ezra 13, 138 11QMelch 2:10, 52 Didache Gospel of Thomas 7:1, 177, 179 43, 113 7:1–3, 176 9:5, 177, 179 Heliodorus of Emesa, 37 Diodorus Siculus Bibliotheca historica 40.3.3–8, 61 Isidore of Pelusium 1 Enoch, 52, 62, 63–64, 77, 78n. Epistola 4.22, 36 15, 141 37–71 (Book of Parables or Josephus Similitudes), 51, 74, 138 Against Apion (C. Ap.) 48:2–6, 51 2.190, 35 48:5, 61 Antiquities 62:6–9, 61 11.331–335, 61 70–71, 51

240

Index of Other Ancient Sources 18.63, 191 20.97–98, 139 Jewish War (B.J.) 5.218, 27 Jubilees 36:7, 175 40:7,  63n. 4 Justin Martyr 1 Apology 30.1, 191 33, 75 Dialogue, 74, 139 32.1, 76n. 12 33–34, 73 49.1, 76 69.7, 191 105.1, 75 108, 191 Life of Adam and Eve, 62, 63–64 12–16, 61–62 13:3–14:3, 52 Origen Commentarii in evangelium Joannis (Comm. Joh.) 2.31, 51 Contra Celsum 1.6, 191 1.28, 191 1.68, 191 1.71, 191 2.32, 191 2.48–49, 191 Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas, 66 Philo Cherubim

127, 27 Creation of the World 75, 16n. 16 Decalogue, 169 65, 56 Dreams, 169 Life of Moses 1.66, 35 1.155–62, 168n. 9 Sacrifices of Cain and Abel 9–10, 53, 168n. 9 The Worse attacks the Better 160–162, 168n. 9 Plutarch Alexandri 1.8, 37 Prayer of Joseph, 51, 52, 64 Sibylline oracles Fifth book, 74, 76n. 12 Similitudes of Enoch, see under 1 Enoch Tacitus Histories 5.1–2, 58 5.5.4, 59 Talmud b. Haggigah 14a, 58 b. Sanhedrin 38b, 58 43a, 191 107b, 191 The Testament of Job, 118 Theodore of Mopsuestia, 181n. 16

241

INDEX OF AUTHORS

Page numbers in italic refer to footnotes. Allison, Dale C., 145, 163, 177, 188, 196–197 Athanassiadi, Polymnia, 123–124 Awad, Najib George, 20n. 23 Bates, Matthew, 16, 19n. 21, 30, 85, 89, 92n. 4 Bauckham, Richard, 15–16, 15n. 15, 18n. 18, 26–30, 40, 53–55, 56, 59–60, 76, 96, 111, 116–117, 143, 172, 174–175, 187 Bauer, Walter, 110 Bird, Michael F., 118 Bock, Darrell, 69–70, 89, 154, 167–171 Bousset, Wilhelm, 4, 114–117 Boyarin, Daniel, 138–139, 180 Brown, Raymond E., 154, 157, 180, 183–184 Burridge, Richard, 188, 192 Cameron, Ron, 203 Capes, David B., 42, 103, 106 Carson, D. A., 180–181 Casey, Maurice, 4, 190n. 18 Chester, Andrew, 6, 57 Chilton, Bruce, 89 Clements, R. E., 72 Collins, Adela Yarbro, 14, 28, 53, 71, 156, 159 Collins, John, 28, 53, 71 Craig, William Lane, 190n. 18

242

Cupitt, Don, 171, 183 Daube, David, 70 Davies, W. D., 177 Dearman, J. Andrew, 69n. 8 DeConick, April, 50–51, 64, 130–131 Dodd, C. H., 167 Dunn, James, 3n. 2, 4–5, 30, 31–32, 39–40, 43, 51, 59, 80–81, 94, 95, 96, 103–106, 107–108, 125, 135, 137, 157n. 3, 171–172, 175, 177–178, 182–183 Ehrman, Bart, 11, 36, 37–41, 48–49, 51, 52–53, 60–61, 64–65, 70, 71, 72, 75, 83–84, 86, 88–89, 92–93, 96, 100, 111–114, 117–119, 195–199 Eisenman, Robert, 112 Erickson, Millard J., 167n. 8 Fabricatore, Daniel, 35 Fee, Gordon, 14, 25, 32, 34, 35, 39, 68, 82, 107n. 1 Ferguson, Everett, 178 Fiddes, Paul, 20n. 23 Fletcher-Louis, Crispin, 61–62, 63–64, 66n. 6, 127 France, R. T., 25–26, 177, 178–179 Frede, Michael, 123–124

Index of Authors Fredriksen, Paula, 50, 57, 58 Fuller, Reginald, 14–15 Gathercole, Simon, 153–154, 175 Goulder, Michael, 171, 197–198, 199 Grillmeier, Aloys, 67–68 Grindheim, Sigurd, 173 Hamilton, James M., 75 Harris, Murray, 26 Hartman, Lars, 80 Harvey, Anthony E., 7–8 Hengel, Martin, 5, 105, 115, 116, 140–141, 142 Hick, John, 135n. 1, 153 Hill, C. E., 108–109 Hill, Wesley, 16, 17–18, 18n. 19, 30 Hodge, Charles, 158n. 4 Hooker, Morna, 34, 155–156, 166, 183 Hoover, Roy W., 36 Horbury, William, 50, 52, 56, 68–69, 72, 73, 74, 75–76, 141 Hume, David, 198 Hurtado, Larry, 3n. 2, 5, 13, 16n. 16, 41–44, 49–50, 55–56, 58, 60, 61, 68–69, 75, 77–78, 79–80, 89–90, 94, 101, 102, 103, 106–107, 110–111, 113, 119–130, 138, 141–142, 147–151, 159, 161–163, 166–167, 170, 174, 189, 197 Jenson, Robert, 20n. 23, 171 Kähler, Martin, 9 Käsemann, Ernst, 167n. 8 Keener, Craig S., 87–88, 156–157, 159, 178n. 14 Kruger, Michael, 65, 68, 195–196 Labahn, Michael, 135–136 Lee, Aquila, 55n. 2, 167 Little, Daniel, 10–11

243

Macquarrie, John, 34 Martin, Dale, 84, 85, 91, 100 Martin, Michael Wade, 35, 36–37, 38 Martin, Ralph P., 102 McDonough, Sean, 55, 166 McGrath, James, 27, 155, 183 McGrew, Timothy, 198 McKnight, Scot, 108n. 2 Meier, John P., 24n. 1 Miller, Merril, 203 Moreland, J. P., 190n. 18 Moss, Candida, 66 Moule, C. F. D., 4n. 3 Nash, Bryan A., 35 North, Lionel, 92n. 5, 95, 96–97 O’Neill, J. C., 36–37 Oswalt, J., 72 Owen, Paul., 74 Pannenberg, Wolfhart, 19n. 22 Peppard, Michael, 49, 56, 57, 60, 61, 65, 66, 86, 87–91, 121–122, 123–125 Provan, Iain W., 73 Rowe, C. Kavin, 87 Rowland, Christopher, 128 Royalty, Robert, 109 Sanders, E. P., 8 Sandmel, Samuel, 49 Schibler, Daniel, 73–74 Schrage, Wolfgang, 28–29, 46 Schröter, Jens, 160 Schweitzer, Albert, 9 Segal, Alan, 51 Stuckenbruck, Loren T., 68, 77n. 14 Theissen, Gerd, 102 Thompson, Marianne Meye, 158

244

Index of Authors

Thrall, Margaret E., 102 Tilling, Chris, 29, 42, 45–47, 78, 82–83, 105 Twelftree, Graham, 189–190 Vermès, Geza, 79, 177 Vollenweider, Samuel, 37–41

Waltke, Bruce, 55, 63n. 4 Weymouth, Richard, 37–38 Wildberger, Hans, 71, 72 Winn, Adam, 70–71 Wright, N. T., 8, 9n. 8, 34, 39, 85–86, 92, 118, 134–135, 160, 164–165, 166, 181, 198

INDEX OF SUBJECTS

Page numbers in italic refer to footnotes. Adam typology, 34–35 Adam, worship of, 52, 61–62, 64 Adoptionism, 83–93 Akiba, Rabbi, 58 Angel of the Lord, 66–68 angels, 14n. 12, 64–65, 66–68, 77n. 14, 182 arguments, presence or absence of, 101–103, 125–126, 127–129, 142–144, 146, 181n. 16, 205, 206–207 Arius, 155, 157 ascension, 117–119, 126–127 baptism of Jesus, 88–90, 92n. 4 in the name of Jesus, 43, 80 in the name of the Trinity, 151, 174–180 being (definition), 19 bias, 9, 10–11 biblical criticism, 7–8 Big-Bang theory of Christology, 5–6 blasphemy, 58–59, 120, 167–171, 169n. 10, 172n. 12, 186 bowing down (proskynesis), 61–62, 79, 95, 96–97, 161–162 Christ and Adam, 34–35 and angels, 67–68, 70n. 9

and creation, 26–29, 31–32, 40, 55n. 2, 165–166 as mediator, 46 pre-existence of, 31–32, 33–41, 67n. 7, 86, 91–93 spiritual desire for, 45–47, 93 and Wisdom, 31–32, 63n. 4, 231, see also Jesus Christology, divine extent of in earliest Christianity, 100–133 Gospel evidence, 153–193 origin of, 134–152 theories concerning origin of, 3–6 Creator–creature divide, 13, 53–66, 165–166 criterion of dissimilarity, 7–8 criterion of double plausibility, 8 critical realism, 10–11 crucifixion, 139 Daniel, 62–63, 66n. 6 deification of humans, 202–208, see also exalted figures desire for Christ, spiritual, 45–47, 93 disagreements, presence or absence of, 101–103, 125–126, 127–129, 142–144, 146, 181n. 16, 205, 206–207 dissimilarity, criterion of, 7–8

245

246

Index of Subjects

diversity in earliest Christianity, 100, 110–114 divinity, 13, 93, 141–142, 157n. 3, 186–187, see also God Docetists, 110 double plausibility, criterion of, 8 earliest Christians and Christianity, 20–21, 100, 110–114, 134–137, 140–144, 147 Early Evolutionary Theories, 4, 114–117, 201 Early Unfolding Theory, 5 Ebionites, 111–112 emperor cult, 121–123 Enoch, 51, 52, 62, 168, 168n. 10, 169 evolutionary theories, 3–5, 201 Exaltation Christology, 83–93 exalted figures, 48–53, 76–78, 97, 138–139, 168 Angel of the Lord, 66–68 Creator–creature divide, 53–66 kings and messiahs, 68–78, 96, 141–142, 202–208 explosion theories, 5–6 Ezekiel the Tragedian, 77 falsification of Jesus’ intention, 140–144 firstborn (prototokon), 32, 91 forgiveness of sins, 171–172 function vs. ontology, 13–17 functional divinity, 93, 186–187 functional subordination, 18n. 19, 41, 46, 55n. 2, 82–83, 85, 150, 157–159 sonship and kingship, 87–88 Gentile influence, 114–116, 119, 121–125 glorification of Jesus, 148 Gnostic Gospels, 7, 113–114

Gnostic redeemer myth theory, 116n. 5 God Creator–creature divide, 13, 53–66, 165–166 crucified, 139 definition of term, 13 demands of, 147–151 form of (morphe), 34–36 goodness of, 191–193 image of, 34–36, 63 name of, 40, 174–176 Paul’s use of term, 80–81 rarity as term for Jesus, 25–26, 183–184 goodness, 153–154, 191–193 Gospel of Thomas, 113–114 Gospels, highest Christology in, 112–114, 153–193 counter-evidence, 153–159 post-resurrection claims of Jesus, 174–185, 187–193 pre-resurrection claims of Jesus, 164–174, 185–187 Haile Selassie, 202–205 Hellenism, 115 henotheism, 50, 52–53 highest Christology (definition), 17–19 historical considerations (summary), 200–202 Holy Spirit, 76, 147, 171–172 human nature of Jesus, 33–34, 81–82, 137–139, 157–158 sinfulness, 191–193 humans, deification of, 202–208, see also exalted figures hymns, 43–44 ‘I AM’ sayings, 157, 187 identity, 29–31, 158 image of God, 34–36, 63

Index of Subjects incarnation, 138, 164 Incarnation Christology, 83–84 intermediary figures, 147, see also Holy Spirit; Wisdom; Word (Logos) Jacob, 64 Jesus and angels, 67–68, 70n. 9 ascension of, 117–119, 126–127 baptism of, 88–90, 92n. 4 as communicator of God’s will, 148–151 falsification of his intention, 140–144 forgiveness of sins, 171–172 humanity of, 33–34, 81–82, 137–139, 157–158 impact of, 119 as Lord (kyrios) in the Letter of James, 112 origins of Christian use, 115, 121, 137 in Pauline epistles, 26–27, 31–32, 42–43, 80–81 miracles, 172–173, 189–191 name of, 39–40, 79–80 as new Torah-giver, 164–165, 166–167 as originator of Christian belief and practice, 144–145, 146, 191n. 20 as prophet, 167, 193 quests for the historical, 6–7 rarity of God-language for in New Testament, 25–26, 183–184 resurrection of diversity of significance, 113, 114 historicity, 159–161, 160n. 6, 200 as new beginning (functional enhancement), 87–88, 149–150

247

as origin of divine Christology, 117–119, 148 as vindication of Jesus’ claims, 149–150, 165 self-understanding, 6–9 as not divine, 153–159 place of miracles, 190 post-resurrection claims, 174–185, 187–193 pre-resurrection claims, 164–174, 185–187 relevance of, 119, 134–137, 140–141 as truly divine, 159–193, 199–200 as separate and subordinate to the Father, 80–83 teachings of, 134–137 veneration of, 94–95 worship of, 41–44, 61, 64, 79–80, 104–107, 119–121, 125–127, 147–151, 181–183, 231, see also Christ Jewish Christians, 103, 106–107, 127 Jewish objection to divine Christology, 103–107, 192 John the Baptist, 136–137 John’s Gospel, 155–159, 187, 195–196 Judaism, see exalted figures; Messiah(s); monotheism kings, 68–78, 87–88, 96 kyrios, see Lord Later Evolutionary Theory, 201 Later Unfolding Theory, 5, 201 Logos (Word), 55, 147, 156, 157–158, 159 Lord (kyrios) in the Letter of James, 112 origins of Christian use, 115, 121, 137

248

Index of Subjects

Paul’s use of, 26–27, 31–32, 42–43, 80–81 as title applied to the messiah, 52 Lord’s Supper, 43 maranatha, 42–43, 115 Mark’s Gospel, 112–113 martyrs, 66, 68–69 Matthew’s Gospel, 161–162 Melchizedek, 52 Messiah(s), 52, 53, 68–78 Haile Selassie, 204 Jesus as, 140–142, 165–166 Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, 206–207 suffering of, 139, 192–193 Metatron, 58, 168, 168n. 10 miracles, 172–173, 189–191, 190n. 19 modalism, 30, 183 monotheism, 49–50, 53–56, 64–66, 77–78, 89–90, 119, 137–139, 162–163, 190 definition of term, 12–13 of Jesus, 65–66, 175, 199–200 and the name YHWH, 40 and paganism, 124 and Paul’s spiritual desire for Christ, 46–47, 93 in Pauline epistles, 25 and persecution of Christians, 105 and worship as reaction to religious experience, 181–182 moral goodness, 191–193 Moses, 51, 52, 53, 76–77, 168n. 9 name of God, 40, 174–176 name of Jesus, 39–40, 79–80 New Religionsgeschichtliche Schule, 5–6 on 1 Cor. 8:6, 26–32 on devotional practices, 41–44

on expressions of spiritual desire for Christ, 45–47 on Phil. 6:6–11, 33–41 new religious movements, 129, 202–203 Octavian, emperor, 122 ontological (definition), 13–17 ontology vs. function, see function vs. ontology pagan influence, 114–116, 119, 121–125 Paul and Pauline epistles, 24–25 1 Cor. 8:6, 26–32 desire for Christ, 45–47, 93 lack of disagreement on Christology, 101–103, 143–144 Phil. 6:6–11, 33–41 silence on Jesus’ divinity, 25, 196–197 persecution of Christians, 103–107 person(s) Christ’s pre-existence, 34 definition, 19–20 plurality of, 27, 30–31, 67, 138, 155, 157–158 post-resurrection claims of Jesus, 174–185, 187–193 pre-existence of Christ, 31–32, 33–41, 67n. 7, 86, 91–93 of the Messiah, 74–76 pre-resurrection claims of Jesus, 164–174, 185–187 primitive Palestinian Christian community (definition), 21 prophet, Jesus as, 167, 193 prophetic speech, 44 proskynesis (bowing down), 61–62, 79, 95, 96–97, 161–162 prototokon (firstborn), 32, 91, 113, 114

Index of Subjects quests for the historical Jesus, 6–7 Rastafarianism, 202–205 Religionsgeschichtliche Schule, 4 Religious Experience Theory, 119–130, 148–149, 150–151, 201 resurrection diversity of significance, 113, 114 historicity of, 159–161, 160n. 6, 200 as new beginning (functional enhancement), 87–88, 149–150 as origin of divine Christology, 117–119, 148 as vindication of Jesus’ claims, 149–150, 165 Resurrection and Ascension Theory, 117–119, 201 Roman influence, 121–125 Russo, Barukhia, 206 sacrifice, 95–97, 123 saints, 66 Schneersohn, Menachem Mendel, 202–203, 206–208 Selassie, see Haile Selassie silence, arguments from, 104–106, 107–110, 112–113, 142–144, 201–202 sinfulness and sinlessness, 191–193 Son of God, 70–71, 121–125 Son of Man, 51, 52, 74–75, 138–139, 167–171 sonship, adoptive, 87–91 Spirit of God, 76, 147, 171–172 Spirit-Christology, 75 spiritual desire for Christ, 45–47, 93 Stephen, 120–121, 126, 189

249

strict monotheism (definition), 13 subordination, 18n. 19, 41, 46, 55n. 2, 80–83, 85, 150, 157–159 Synoptic Gospels, 112–113, 173, 187, 195–196 Theological Deduction Theory, 130–131, 201 Trinitarianism, 17–19, 140n. 3, 174–180 true God, truly divine (definition), 13 Twelve, the, 21n. 25 Unitarianism, 13, 30–31, see also modalism veneration vs. worship, 94–95 visions, 120–121, 125–126, 148–149, 189 will of God, 147–151 Wisdom, 31–32, 52, 55, 63n. 4, 147, 156, 159 Word (Logos), 55, 147, 156, 157–158, 159 worship of angels, 64–65, 68, 77n. 14, 182 and divinity, 50 of exalted figures, 50–52, 60–64 as involving the whole of life, 45 of Jesus, 41–44, 61, 64, 79–80, 104–107, 119–121, 125–127, 147–151, 181–183 and monotheistic commitment, 55–56, 57–58, 59–61 sacrifice, 95–97 vs. veneration, 94–95 Zevi, Sabbatai, 206