Christianity won over paganism by epitomizing pagan ideals

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by Neil Godfrey

Rubens – Achilles Slays Hector

This continues my previous post, which was slightly misleadingly titled Why Christianity Spread So Rapidly . . .. It is for most part a distillation of Gregory J. Riley’s chapter, “Mimesis of Classical Ideals in the Second Christian Century”, found in Mimesis and Intertextuality edited by Dennis MacDonald. A related post is my discussion of Paul’s Christ crucified message and its relationship to Stoic philosophy, Why Paul did not need “the historical Jesus”. (Riley himself, however, is certainly not a Jesus-mythicist as far as I am aware.)

Riley is attempting to redress what he sees as an imbalance in the scholarship of early Christianity by pointing out that key Christian themes and messages originated in the Greco-Roman world, and were tacked on to Jewish heroes. Christianity’s attraction to many in the Roman Empire lay in the way it epitomized the best and noblest of Classical ideals as it narrated these through very “paganized” Jewish characters.

Anyone familiar with the New Testament who reads the classical literature of Greece and Rome cannot help but notice the many coincidences of thought and expressions. This was certainly my own experience. Questions inevitably begin to arise as one sees this so often the more one reads. It is refreshing and enlightening to see Riley address this question head on.

This part 2 post looks at “what made the Christian Gospel something familiar and alluring, even captivating, for the masses of people of the Roman world.” (p.99) I flesh out some of Riley’s notes with quotations from the classical sources themselves.

Contrasting Greek and Jewish ideals

“Greek tradition,” Riley points out, “had developed to a very sophisticated degree a world-view  called ‘Greek pessimism.’ The literature they held in most high regard is termed ‘Greek tragedy.'”

The Greek goddesses of fate, Moirae, who were known as Fata among the Latin speaking Romans (compare our “fatal”), determined not only the destinies of earthly mortals, but even that of the chief god Zeus himself.

“It was one of the joys of the gods to disabuse people of their false hopes for long life, health, wealth, offspring, peace, even intelligence.”

Contrast the promises of the Jewish scriptures: It was long life, health and well-being that were promised to all who obeyed the Law of Moses. Curses were the consequence of disobedience.

Deuteronomy 28

1 If you fully obey the LORD your God and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the LORD your God will set you high above all the nations on earth. 2 All these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the LORD your God:

3 You will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country.
4 The fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land . . .
5 Your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed.
6 You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out.
7 The LORD will grant that the enemies who rise up against you will be defeated before you. . . .
8 The LORD will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. . . .
. . .  11 The LORD will grant you abundant prosperity—in the fruit of your womb, the young of your livestock and the crops of your ground . . .

15 However, if you do not obey the LORD your God and do not carefully follow all his commands and decrees I am giving you today, all these curses will come upon you and overtake you:

16 You will be cursed in the city and cursed in the country.
17 Your basket and your kneading trough will be cursed.
18 The fruit of your womb will be cursed, and the crops of your land, and the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks.
19 You will be cursed when you come in and cursed when you go out.
20 The LORD will send on you curses, confusion and rebuke in everything you put your hand to, until you are destroyed and come to sudden ruin because of the evil you have done in forsaking him. 21 The LORD will plague you with diseases . . .

This is not the way of the Greek (or Roman) gods. Piety did not promise blessings in this life. Blessings were always temporary.

A well-known line in Homer’s Iliad is spoken by Achilles when Priam, the father of the son he has just killed in battle, approaches him for the body of Hector:

sit now upon this seat, and for all our grief we will hide our sorrows in our hearts, for weeping will not avail us. The immortals know no care, yet the lot they spin for man is full of sorrow; on the floor of Jove’s palace there stand two urns, the one filled with evil gifts, and the other with good ones. He for whom Jove the lord of thunder mixes the gifts he sends, will meet now with good and now with evil fortune; but he to whom Jove sends none but evil gifts will be pointed at by the finger of scorn, the hand of famine will pursue him to the ends of the world, and he will go up and down the face of the earth, respected neither by gods nor men.

Note the urn of evil is mentioned first. And the one with blessings is always poured out with a mixture of curses. There is no life of unbroken blessing: “the possibility did not exist.”

This is the idea that lies behind Greek historian Herodotus’s account of the conversation between Solon, the wisest of the Greeks, with Croessus, the richest of the barbarian (non-Greek) kings.

Croesus received him as his guest, and lodged him in the royal palace. On the third or fourth day after, he bade his servants conduct Solon over his treasuries, and show him all their greatness and magnificence. When he had seen them all . . . Croesus addressed this question to him. “Stranger of Athens, we have heard much of thy wisdom . . . I am curious therefore to inquire of thee, whom, of all the men that thou hast seen, thou deemest the most happy?” This he asked because he thought himself the happiest of mortals:

but Solon answered him without flattery, according to his true sentiments, “Tellus of Athens, sire.” Full of astonishment at what he heard, Croesus demanded sharply, “And wherefore dost thou deem Tellus happiest?” To which the other replied, “First, because his country was flourishing in his days, and he himself had sons both beautiful and good, and he lived to see children born to each of them, and these children all grew up; and further because, after a life spent in what our people look upon as comfort, his end was surpassingly glorious. In a battle between the Athenians and their neighbours near Eleusis, he came to the assistance of his countrymen, routed the foe, and died upon the field most gallantly. The Athenians gave him a public funeral on the spot where he fell, and paid him the highest honours.”

Thus did Solon admonish Croesus by the example of Tellus, enumerating the manifold particulars of his happiness.

When he had ended, Croesus inquired a second time . . . “Cleobis and Bito,” Solon answered; “they were of Argive race; their fortune was enough for their wants, and they were besides endowed with so much bodily strength that they had both gained prizes at the Games. Also this tale is told of them:- There was a great festival in honour of the goddess Juno at Argos, to which their mother must needs be taken in a car. Now the oxen did not come home from the field in time: so the youths, fearful of being too late, put the yoke on their own necks, and themselves drew the car in which their mother rode. Five and forty furlongs did they draw her, and stopped before the temple. This deed of theirs was witnessed by the whole assembly of worshippers, and then their life closed in the best possible way. Herein, too, God showed forth most evidently, how much better a thing for man death is than life. For the Argive men, who stood around the car, extolled the vast strength of the youths; and the Argive women extolled the mother who was blessed with such a pair of sons; and the mother herself, overjoyed at the deed and at the praises it had won, standing straight before the image, besought the goddess to bestow on Cleobis and Bito, the sons who had so mightily honoured her, the highest blessing to which mortals can attain. Her prayer ended, they offered sacrifice and partook of the holy banquet, after which the two youths fell asleep in the temple. They never woke more, but so passed from the earth. The Argives, looking on them as among the best of men, caused statues of them to be made, which they gave to the shrine at Delphi.”

When Solon had thus assigned these youths the second place, Croesus broke in angrily, “What, stranger of Athens, is my happiness, then, so utterly set at nought by thee, that thou dost not even put me on a level with private men?”

“Oh! Croesus,” replied the other, “thou askedst a question concerning the condition of man, of one who knows that the power above us is full of jealousy, and fond of troubling our lot. A long life gives one to witness much, and experience much oneself, that one would not choose. Seventy years I regard as the limit of the life of man. . . . not one [day of these years] will produce events unlike the rest. Hence man is wholly accident. For thyself, oh! Croesus, I see that thou art wonderfully rich, and art the lord of many nations; but with respect to that whereon thou questionest me, I have no answer to give, until I hear that thou hast closed thy life happily. For assuredly he who possesses great store of riches is no nearer happiness than he who has what suffices for his daily needs, unless it so hap that luck attend upon him, and so he continue in the enjoyment of all his good things to the end of life. For many of the wealthiest men have been unfavoured of fortune, and many whose means were moderate have had excellent luck. Men of the former class excel those of the latter but in two respects; these last excel the former in many. The wealthy man is better able to content his desires, and to bear up against a sudden buffet of calamity. The other has less ability to withstand these evils (from which, however, his good luck keeps him clear), but he enjoys all these following blessings: he is whole of limb, a stranger to disease, free from misfortune, happy in his children, and comely to look upon. If, in addition to all this, he end his life well, he is of a truth the man of whom thou art in search, the man who may rightly be termed happy. Call him, however, until he die, not happy but fortunate. . . . so no single human being is complete in every respect- something is always lacking. He who unites the greatest number of advantages, and retaining them to the day of his death, then dies peaceably, that man alone, sire, is, in my judgment, entitled to bear the name of ‘happy.’ But in every matter it behoves us to mark well the end: for oftentimes God gives men a gleam of happiness, and then plunges them into ruin.

Such was the speech which Solon addressed to Croesus, a speech which brought him neither largess nor honour. The king saw him depart with much indifference, since he thought that a man must be an arrant fool who made no account of present good, but bade men always wait and mark the end.

After Solon had gone away a dreadful vengeance, sent of God, came upon Croesus, to punish him.

Prosperity and blessings brought with them the danger of hubris (self-satisfaction) and neglect of dike (“the proper balance of justice in one’s soul that brought forth respect for one’s companions, hospitality for the stranger, and courage in the face of the inevitable change in fortune.”)

So to the Greeks “virtue” was something quite unlike the “Old Testament” idea of obedience to a set of rules defining sin and righteousness. Obedience to the laws of Zeus was important, and disobedience certainly brought punishment, “but obedience was little better.”

The stories teach us that Greek life was short and harsh, even for the highly placed, and that suffering was the fundamental human experience. And worse: for the innocent or especially pious, suffering unjustly was inevitable. (p.98)

“By suffering comes learning” (pathei mathos)

Escape from painful fate was impossible, but suffering did bring some profit. The famous line of Aeschylus in his tragic play Agamemnon was:

Zeus, who sets mortals on the path to understanding, Zeus, who has established as a fixed law that “wisdom comes by suffering.” But even as trouble, bringing memory of pain, drips over the mind in sleep, so wisdom comes to men, whether they want it or not. Harsh, it seems to me, is the grace of gods enthroned upon their awful seats.

Suffering here means the suffering of death.

In this play the learning comes too late for Agamemnon. The ones who learn from his tragic death are the audience of the play. This was the pattern and lesson of Greek tragedies.

Xenophon illustrates how this learning the most important lessons of life was the point of studying the likes of Homer. In Symposium he writes as part of an exchange with Socrates:

So now, Niceratus, suppose you tell us on what knowledge you most pride yourself.

He answered: My father, in his pains to make me a good man, compelled me to learn the whole of Homer’s poems, and it so happens that even now I can repeat the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey” by heart.

I recall how in high school on reading the Homeric epics how I was left mystified by my teacher’s claims that these were in some sense considered “the Bible” of the Greeks. I could see no lessons in them comparable to the direct “thou shalts” and “thou shalt nots” in the Bible I knew. I was too young at the time to truly understand the more sophisticated lessons they do indeed teach. Riley explains:

What one learned from the classical tradition was what it meant to be a respected person in the larger context of the Greek cosmos, a world controlled by the jealousy of the gods and the vicissitudes of Fate. One learned piety towards the gods, to respect the rights of others, especially the unfortunate, the suppliant, and the stranger. But what one learned above all was how to face the ultimate test, unjust suffering, the inevitable suffering unto death, with courage and integrity. The texts display a remarkable sophistication on this point . . . (p. 98)

Riley compares the images that the Greeks used in this instruction with those we find in the New Testament. Among many other comparable phrases, one:

  • practices self-control in all things
  • endures to the end
  • fights the good fight
  • runs the course
  • arms oneself with the weapons of righteousness
  • receives the crown

These and many other ideas are found in common in ancient classical and New Testament writings.

The point is that one is engaged in a battle or context that one cannot win except by courageous death.

The Hebrew Bible teaches that falling in defeat before one’s enemies is a shameful curse.

But for the Greeks, one found victory if, in falling in defeat to one’s enemies, one held on to one’s courage and integrity to the end. “One could in fact lose a fight and be killed, yet still win a moral victory.”

This, of course, is the lesson of the deaths of Socrates, Achilles, Jesus, the Christian martyrs.

Falling in defeat did not matter — that was one’s fate. The same would happen to your enemy in his time.

During a critical moment on the battlefield Odysseus found himself suddenly alone:

Odysseus famed for his spear, was left alone, nor did anyone of the Argives abide by him, for that fear had laid hold of them all. Then mightily moved he spake unto his own great-hearted spirit: “Woe is me; what is to befall me? Great evil were it if I flee, seized with fear of the throng;, yet this were a worse thing, if I be taken all alone, for the rest of the Danaans hath the son of Cronos scattered in flight. But why doth my heart thus hold converse with me? For I know that they are cowards that depart from battle, whereas whoso is pre-eminent in fight, him verily it behoveth to hold his ground boldly, whether he be smitten, or smite another.” (Iliad 11)

The story of Jesus is a Greek tragedy

Suffering was a curse from God according to the Hebrew Bible. Being crucified was a curse from God. So Deuteronomy 21:23. The paradigmatic biblical hero, David, lived a long and wealthy life.

But in the Gospel of Mark 8:34-36 crucifixion is the way to the Kingdom of God.

In other words, as Riley observes, the early Christian authors “understood and told the story of the Son of God on earth not according to the Deuteronomists but according to the [Greek] tragedians.”

They took from the Old Testament what they could use and side-stepped the rest through allegory, spiritualization, and silence. (p.99)

Riley’s remarks remind one of the more general trends around the time of the early Christian era for pagan philosophers to allegorize their myths, too, in order to explain away their less ethical traits.

What made the Christian Gospel so alluring for the masses

This was what made the Christian Gospel something familiar and alluring, even captivating, for the masses of people of the Roman world. It was a story they had heard long before and had learned to admire and respect. Stories of endurance of suffering and courage in the face of overwhelming fate had prepared them to hear the same story again, but now one in which they themselves were included in a new way: they themselves were invited to participate individually as protagonists and main characters. In the Christian story, each individual was required to repeat the story of the captain, to take up his or her own cross and follow to the end of life, whatever that end might be.

A few suffered literal crucifixion or the lions. Many suffered criticism and rejection by friends and family. The Gospel was not the Jewish Scriptural promise of health, wealth and long earthly life.

The Jewish form but Greek tragic substance of the New Testament

The Gospel of Mark, the letters of Paul that speak of his life, the Book of Hebrews, the Book of Revelation — all are replete with Old Testament quotations and allusions. But their substance is “the call to endure with faithfulness to the death in language straight out of Greek tradition.”

1 Clement

Riley points out a “fundamental contradiction” in the famous letter of Clement over its abundant use of the Septuagint (Greek) Old Testament and his message that comes straight out of Greek heroic tradition.

Clement was ostensibly writing from Rome to address a rebellion against church leaders in the church at Corinth. His theme was to exhort submission to authority, the younger are to submit to the elder (“possibly unjust”) authorities in humility, “much like the ambassadors asked the young Achilles to submit to the authority of Agamemnon.”

Digressing from Riley’s chapter:

This comparison Riley makes with Achilles refers to a scene in Homer’s Iliad in which Achilles, who has been wronged by the leader of the army besieging Troy, King Agamemnon, and has refused to join the fight as a result, is approached by two emissaries from Agamemnon who beg him to return and submit.

To step aside from Riley’s chapter for a moment, this is a scene that comes to my mind when I read of the baptism of Jesus by John in the opening scene of the Gospel of Mark. Achilles was the personal superior to Agamemnon, being half divine and half mortal, yet he is clearly at fault for not swallowing his pride and failing to submit nonetheless to the (even unjust) authority of King Agamemnon.

Scholars who declare that Jesus’ baptism by the inferior John must have been some sort of “embarrassment” to the early church have struck me as unaware of the wider cultural tradition with which any author of a Greek narrative would have been familiar.

If the cross was the way to salvation, and this was essentially a Greek idea, then why not accept the submission of the greater Jesus to the lesser John as another noble illustration of a humility that is to be emulated — as even taught among the Greek epic poets and tragedians?

Clement has a problem in his letter. He quotes many examples from the Bible, but he seems to be conscious that they hardly fit the point he is trying to make, or only slightly in some cases. He is wanting examples of people who submitted humbly to authority, even unjustly, but the ones he scrapes from the Bible are mostly negative ones, those who failed to submit when they should have: Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, Joseph, Moses, Aaron and Miriam, Dathan and Abiram, David.

His examples from the OT show that the rebellious unrighteous suffer punishment. It is only the new exemplars of Christianity who can truly demonstrate the ideal of the righteous suffering persecution and death.

The most positive examples he can find are those who are the newly created Christian ones themselves, Peter and Paul and other Christians who suffered unjust martyrdom. He glosses over the weak and negative examples he gives by exhorting his readers to keep in mind “the sufferings of Christ”, to keep their eyes on “the blood of Christ”. (I am aware that the authenticity of the references to Peter and Paul in his letter is debated by some.)

In fact

  • in the Old Testament the righteous heroes killed their persecutors or watched God destroy them!


  • the virtues of the Christian martyrs are those of Homer, and even given the language of Homer:
    • they endured humiliation and suffering
    • they kept courage in the face of death
    • they strove for the spiritual victory
    • they gained the prize
    • and now as a consequence of all that they enjoy fame

Riley comments:

Here we see an example of the window dressing of the Old Testament on the framework of Greek heroic tradition. (p. 101)

Justin Martyr

In his Dialogue with Trypho, Justin (around 140 ce) puts into the mouth of the Jew (Trypho) the difference between Jewish and pagan ideals of righteousness:

Trypho . . . smiling, says, “I approve of your other remarks, and admire the eagerness with which you study divine things; but it were better for you still to abide in the philosophy of Plato, or of some other man, cultivating endurance, self-control, and moderation, rather than be deceived by false words, and follow the opinions of men of no reputation [i.e. Christians] . . . If, then, you are willing to listen to me (for I have already considered you a friend), first be circumcised, then observe what ordinances have been enacted with respect to the Sabbath, and the feasts, and the new moons of God; and, in a word, do all things which have been written in the law: and then perhaps you shall obtain mercy from God.

The language of endurance, self-control, is the language of Greek philosophy — not Trypho’s Judaism!

Again in a later work, the “Second Apology“, Justin explains what attracted him to Christianity:

For I myself, too, when I was delighting in the doctrines of Plato, and heard the Christians slandered, and saw them fearless of death, and of all other things which are counted fearful, perceived that it was impossible that they could be living in wickedness and pleasure.

Justin illustrates this Christian message by the example of Heracles as told by the Greek philosopher Xenophon:

Hercules, says Xenophon, coming to a place where three ways met, found Virtue and Vice, who appeared to him in the form of women: Vice, in a luxurious dress, and with a seductive expression rendered blooming by such ornaments, and her eyes of a quickly melting tenderness, said to Hercules that if he would follow her, she would always enable him to pass his life in pleasure and adorned with the most graceful ornaments, such as were then upon her own person; and Virtue, who was of squalid look and dress, said, But if you obey me, you shall adorn yourself not with ornament nor beauty that passes away and perishes, but with everlasting and precious graces.

And we are persuaded that every one who flees those things that seem to be good, and follows hard after what are reckoned difficult and strange, enters into blessedness.

For Vice, when by imitation of what is incorruptible (for what is really incorruptible she neither has nor can produce) she has thrown around her own actions, as a disguise, the properties of Virtue, and qualities which are really excellent, leads captive earthlyminded men, attaching to Virtue her own evil properties. But those who understood the excellences which belong to that which is real, are also uncorrupt in virtue.

And this every sensible person ought to think both of Christians and of the athletes, and of those who did what the poets relate of the so-called gods, concluding as much from our contempt of death, even when it could be escaped.

Riley sees the thoughts of this passage being behind Paul’s statement in 1 Corinthians 9 where he speaks of buffeting his body to make it his slave:

Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.

2 Clement

This treatise from the late third century also uses the above pagan illustration of Xenophon’s Heracles, but without mentioning Heracles this time. The work encourages righteousness, faithful endurance under persecution, to be fearless in the face of death, to follow virtue and give up vice – both personified as in Xenophon’s tale.

let us the rather pursue virtue, but forsake vice as the forerunner of our sins

And the language is the language of the Greek classics:

So then, my brethren, let us contend, knowing that the contest is nigh at hand, and that, while many resort to the corruptible contests, yet not all are crowned, but only they that have toiled
hard and contended bravely.

Let us then contend that we all may be crowned.

Wherefore let us run in the straight course, the incorruptible contest. And let us resort to it in throngs and contend, that we may also be crowned.


in a trial of the living God we strive and are exercised in the present life, that we may obtain the crown in that which is to come.

Pathei mathos (“by suffering comes learning”)

This Greek tragic concept typifies the Jesus of the Book of Hebrews.

Hebrews 5:8; 12:2

Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

Epictetus and Christian ethos

Riley concludes with a discussion of the above ideals or “Christian ethos” as expressed by the second-century Stoic philosopher Epictetus. Ethos, he explains, refers to what is customary or habitual. Epictetus’ discussion is in the fourth book of his Discourses.

He urges his fellow philosophers to emulate the values of courage in the face of death and detachment from material wealth. By doing so they will be “free, serene, happy, unharmed, high-minded, reverent.”

A madman, he writes, despises death and has no desire to hold on to material or earthly things, including home and family. “Galileans” can reach the same values through “ethos”. A philosopher, through reason.

And is it possible that any one should be thus disposed towards these things from madness, and the Galileans from mere habit; yet that no one should be able to learn, from reason and demonstration, [such things of God]?

Conclusion: 3 ways

Recall that the goals set by the Deuteronomists were wealth, long life, and the like. Here in the Greek tradition they are a disregard for possessions, contempt of death, fearlessness in the face of the swords of tyrants. There were, apparently, three ways to achieve these ideals of Greek philosophy: insanity, training by reason and demonstration, and Christian ethos. (p. 103)


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14 thoughts on “Christianity won over paganism by epitomizing pagan ideals”

  1. An interesting post, the theme you have been exploring concerning the Greek influence on Christianity is certainly worth discussing. Given the background of Paul’s congregations it would be hard for them to not have a lot of background in Greek philosophy. I think a lot of people familiar with only a Sunday school presentation of Christianity might assume that Greco-Roman morality revolved around orgies and gladiators. It’s behavioral values were, in truth, not really that different though from that of the Roman world. Instead it was the the exclusivity of its God and skepticism toward reason that made it a bit of an outcast faith.

    While Acts presents Paul as using arguments from Greek philosophy to promote his “good news” to Greeks, he doesn’t seem very knowledgeable of them in his own letters, and in fact a little dismissive of it. This leads me to question just how much philosophy is directly influencing Christianity as opposed to the the indirect influence. I see a similar development in neo-paganism, as it has developed to to be compatible in a world shaped by Christian morality as opposed to the world view of real pre Christian Pagans. I’m cautious of ascribing to much to Greek philosophy or viewing Christianity as a type of philosophy, The Jews had been developing a cult of martyrdom for awhile and I could hardly see the good value of self sacrifice for the good as a solely Greek idea. It is possible for people like Paul and Peter to develop it without any knowledge of Greek literature.

    1. Riley does not mean to suggest that Christianity itself was a “type of philosophy”. It is a religion that embraces the values of Greco-Roman culture. The values themselves express how people viewed life and the meaning they see in its ups and downs. These values are expressed, naturally enough, in their cultural works: their poetic, dramatic and philosophical literature.

      To be fair to Riley, I should clarify that he speaks mainly of the “Deuteronomist” when referring to Jewish religion. Jewish ideas were not monolithic, as the truism goes. From the Maccabees on we find conflicts between Hellenizing Jews and “traditional” Jews. I have discussed Levenson’s study on certain Second Temple views of the sacrifice of Isaac and atoning matyrdom. This owes more to Hellenistic values than “Deuteronomist” ones. But — and continuing beyond Riley’s discussion — there were more Hellenistic influences among some of our biblical books, too. Some see the influence of Plato on the Genesis creation account:

      But the point is that such “Jewish” stories are themselves drawn from Hellenistic culture and values.

      I tend to see “traditional” Judaism as an extension of archaic Mid-East / Mesopotamian city-state religious concepts. (There was no Abraham or Moses to trace a “tradition” back to, any more than there was a real Noah or Adam.) And after the 66-70 war, this “traditional” Judaism mutated into rabbinism, and stood in opposition to other developments that led to what we would recognize as various forms of Christianity and “gnostic” movements.

      So I see the rise of Christianity being even more rapid than Riley’s 300 years. Make it 200. (Paul may have been doing his work in the first century, but even if he were, his writings had no impact in the wider religious controversies until the second century.)

      Paul and Peter are necessarily creatures of their society and culture. (No-one is or ever can be really “ahead of their time”.) If they developed any ideas they developed them from their cultural influences, whether “Jewish” or “Greek”. But what if both or either of them was nothing more than a creation of later (unknown) authors. The mere fact that names exist in the literature is not in itself evidence of the historicity of those names or the stories surrounding them.

      1. Ah the godfearers, yes! I’ve been wanting to do a post on them ever since I started this blog — and in particular on the related issue of the cult of Theos Hypsistos (God the Highest) throughout the Eastern Mediterranean regions. I suspect the significance is huge. But each time I start I’m a bit overwhelmed over how to reduce the material to something manageable at post level and still do it some sort of justice — and to do this within a normal time limit that allows me to live a responsible real life too.

        I also wonder if a more historically accurate portrayal of how Christianity spread is through studying someone like Justin Martyr. I imagine such Christian “philosophers” with their household and other client attendants sharing ideas with their fellows, and their client and households following their patron’s ideas as a matter of course. A bit like the way philosophical schools usually spread? The notion in Acts and the Gospels of Elijah-like prophets and apostles touring around, I wonder, is a literary construct later invented to attach a more “historical-narrative” explanation for how their religion originated from Jesus/apostles. Just thoughts.

      2. It seems there’s some debate over the historicity or at least the true impact of Godfearers on the rapid growth of the early church. But if the author of Acts is telling us the truth, then Synagogues frequently attracted Gentiles who did not fully convert to Judaism. They liked the ethics, the fellowship, etc., but not the dietary laws and the voluntary surgery. They “sat in the back pews” and declined to become proselytes.

        These people could have been easy pickings for itinerant apostles who were spreading the gospel (referring here to the earliest “good news,” not the written gospels that would appear many decades later). “The way” could have become a different path to full acceptance within the group. After a little dunking ceremony and a confession of fealty to Jesus, they were in.

        As for both Peter and Paul, they could be historical but buried under the rubble of Acts and the epistles, every one of which could be pseudonymous for all we know. On the other hand, they could simply be archetypes of two (of the many) competing Jesus movements.

  2. Neil, your a kind of perfect storm of fringe ideas, an Art Bell of Biblical History. It’s hard to keep up without common ground, I find my self going deeper in a rabbit hole. I haven’t heard much on the Genesis from the Hellenistic era yet, and the parallels provided in the article, Genesis myth Inspired by Plato, were in substantial. If that is what constitutes evidence I am not surprised it hasn’t made more of an impression. It shows that the earliest sure external attestation of a work may not be taken as conclusive evidence of when it was composed, only the latest time it could have been.

    1. I hardly think that the view that the Old Testament literature and Judaism itself is a product of the Persian and Hellenistic eras is any longer a fringe one. It is grounded in sound historical methodology that really IS the same as applied among other nonbiblical ancient historical topics. (Unlike much NT historical scholarship.) I have posted on the works of Mandell and Freedman and others before in this connection, and the “minimalists” have had a significant impact on changing the way OT historical studies are done, so I don’t think you can call them ‘fringe’. Much more of an impression has been made than you seem to think.

      It may not be “mainstream”, if that means the dominant public view of things in the U.S. in particular. The original reason for my blog was to share scholarly views that are not well known publicly — even scholarly views of Jesus mythicism (Schweitzer, Avalos and Stevan Davies are hardly “fringe”) — and to point to some of their methodological and evidential bases.

      ETA: The literary approach to the evidence is the most secure methodological starting point. It begins by analyzing the evidence we have — the texts — without making any presumptions about the historicity or otherwise of their narratives. The views of “historians” like McGrath et al that insist that historical and literary studies must be kept separate from each other are baseless and contradictory. To assume that a text can be mined for history is to already have made a literary judgment about it. But without literary criticism of some sort, we have no idea how to interpret the texts – whether they are meant to contain history or not.

      That is what scholars like Riley, Hock, MacDonald, Brodie et al are doing. They are working with the evidence itself, and not with presumptions of historical or theological backgrounds to the evidence.

    2. Calling ideas “fringe” and alluding to Art Bell hardly adds to the discussion, does it? Unless, of course, your object is to short-circuit honest discussion before it even starts. Every new hypothesis is by its nature a minority viewpoint.

      As Neil points out the notion that Judaism was influenced by Canaanite, Babylonian, and Greek myths (and philosophies) is very much in the mainstream. The earliest stratum in the Hebrew Bible describes Yahweh as a war god who helps the tribes win battles. He commands the winds, the rains, lightning; he slays the enemy and brings victory. He is not a god of the harvest or a creator god. So as Judaism began to conceive of Yahweh as the chief god or (at some point) the only god, it was only natural that assimilation would occur. (See Frank Moore Cross’s classic Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic.)

      As far as the specific point about Platonic influence on the Genesis creation myth, I suppose it depends on how late the P source was added to Genesis and how much the P writers were influenced by the dominant Hellenistic culture (post Alexander). We already know that Judaism was quite adept at assimilating ideas — dualism (recasting ha-Satan as an Ahriman-like figure), resurrection/afterlife, etc.

      One last curious note: Quite a few mainstream scholars think the Asherah groves are related to the sacred groves in Hellenistic religion. And we all know how the “good kings” of Judah kept having to cut down the groves. The OT itself bears witness to a persistent religious practice with Canaanite and Hellenistic roots.

  3. “I hardly think that the view that the Old Testament literature and Judaism itself is a product of the Persian and Hellenistic eras is any longer a fringe one.”

    That there is a lot of material dating to the Persian period is widely accepted, that Daniel is a work of the Hellenistic period is virtually uncontested. That Genesis is based on Plato is fringe and Lukas Niesiolowski-Spano’s work on this, as presented in the link, is garbage. His points of comparison are far to broad. That God’s spirit moves is supposed lead us to believe the author is familiar with Plato? His other points are even worse, these ideas being so genral that they could be linked to any number of other mythologies.

    It’s fine to present odd ideas for discussion to a wider audience, but your using this guy to support your idea that certain Jewish ideas are really Hellenistic ones. He can’t even support his own ideas much less anyone else’s. There is no justification for the statement “But the point is that such “Jewish” stories are themselves drawn from Hellenistic culture and values” if the argument for it comes from the articles you linked to.

  4. My apologies to Neil for the Art Bell crack. I shouldn’t have taken your use of LN-S’ work as a whole hearted endorsement but rather a statement that “some one believes x”. In all I guess your reference to his work was more of a foot note than a central argument, and didn’t really add to the discussion. I would have saved it for another time, as I don’t think there is any good use to dropping controversial theories into a discussion if they aren’t needed, they distract. I don’t think there is much in Genesis to support a martyrdom theology. I think you would agree that this a more a product of the prophetic works. Genesis is all about how the righteous get their just reward in this life.

    On to another controversial idea, Neil, do you think there is much support for the idea that Paul and Peter are not actual people as you seem to imply with
    “Paul and Peter are necessarily creatures of their society and culture….But what if both or either of them was nothing more than a creation of later (unknown) authors. The mere fact that names exist in the literature is not in itself evidence of the historicity of those names or the stories surrounding them.”
    Some of your other post seemed to imply that you thought Peter with his symbolic name was a creation of the gospel writers, which I thought odd, but you seemed comfortable using Paul as a primary source, but if your meaning that someone created the character of Paul to be a mouth piece for someone else’s ideas in the form a collection of letters to churches in the early years of Christianity, …. well what is left to say? Is this some sort of exercise to keep everyone on their toes about the unreliability of ancient sources or do you believe this?

    1. Sorry mikelioso, but your recent comments are starting to come across as juvenile scoffing at concepts you are not familiar with and posts and comments that you fail to understand. I am always willing to backtrack and explain things (especially since I realize in some of my replies to you I occasionally slipped into going deeper into some points for other readers), and was preparing the best way to clarify my posts in response to one of your comments. But when you dismiss scholarly peer-review publications with nothing more than “that’s garbage” or something like, “there’s no reason to think this or that about such and such”, then I think I would be wasting my time. I disagree with scholarly peer-reviewed arguments, too, but I always attempt to do so with the support of clear evidence and reasoned argument, and where I have the time, with supporting viewpoints from other scholars.

      When I was an undergraduate it was easy for me to screw up my face at some of the more advanced writings of scholars I did not understand and either wonder “what the hell are they talking about?” or “that sounds so obvious it must be a lot of hot air about nothing just to please their egos” or “what idiots, don’t they know . . .” — but I look back now and realize how much I had to learn at the time.

      It seems you are looking for some definitive argument or case from me in my posts and comments. My posts are largely exploratory, less often definitive. The evidence we have does not allow for definitive answers to many questions. I have no idea if Peter and Paul were historical or fictional because I have no way of determining the question either way. I can see evidence both ways for Paul, and I can accept the need to work with that ambiguity. So sometimes I will cite Paul as the mid first century author but it is always a provisional argument. This does not mean I am not interested in knowing one way or the other. It only means that I am open to learning more before being more decisive. Or if I do feel more strongly that Paul was a second century creation, I will not dogmatically insist on arguing the point, because I realize I could well be wrong. I have read quite a lot, but have much much more to learn.

      You have misread my comments about Genesis and their context. I never said Genesis supports “a martyrdom theology”. It is not a “fringe” view that the entire collection of OT writings are from the Hellenistic/Persian eras. Not just Daniel. Genesis, too. And the Prophets, and the Pentateuch. I referenced in one of my comments to you Mandell and Freeman: they were among the first to publish the case that the entire OT collection of books (as a ‘canon’ or corpus) is modelled on Herodotus’ Histories (Greek historian of the 5th century bce). They may be wrong. But it is not “fringe” to argue this.

      But even if it were “fringe”, then why not examine it on the merits of its arguments? If you want to only stick to mainstream views, that’s fine. If you find controversial theories distracting then you will find much of my blog distracting. But I don’t see any point in repeating here what everyone knows already. I used to have a little saying: Questions liberate, answers bind. I did not mean we should reject answers, but that answers always need to be challenged, made to justify themselves, and be accepted as tentative — otherwise we close our minds to any further learning.

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