2023-04-26

Acts of the Apostles: Title and Foreword

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by Neil Godfrey

The Acts of the Apostles

a balancing of

Paulinism

and 

Judaism within the Christian Church.

——

by B. Bauer.

——

Berlin

published by Gustav Hempel.

1850.

 

iii

Foreword

After Schrader and Dr. Baur first noted the difference between the Paul of Acts and the Paul of the Epistles, the conformity of the “First” with Peter and the Pauline character of Peter of Acts *) – after Schneckenburger **) then proved in detail the conformity of the figure in which the Paul of Acts appears with that of Peter, there are still two points in dispute, two questions that await decision.

*) The former in the fifth volume of his writing: the Apostle Paul 1836, – the latter in his essays in the Lübinger Zeitschrift. 1836. 1838. 

**) in his writing on the purpose of the Acts of the Apostles. Bern. 1841.

The purpose and point of view of the author of Acts is still to be determined and the question of historical credibility, i.e. the question of whether the author of Acts created freely or used reliable sources for his composition, has neither been solved by Schnekkenburger’s effort to assert the Pauline character of this writing alongside that of the Epistles, nor by the admonition of Dr. Baur, who urgently recommends *) that “from the special purpose which the later living historian had, no too disadvantageous conclusion may be drawn about the historical credibility of the Acts of the Apostles in general, since the apologetic interest of the author does not outright excludes it, but only in a limited and modified way.”

*) Paul, the Apostle of Jesus Christ. Stuttgart 1845. p. 13.

iv

In addition, we have the natural explanation which Neander lastly and with the most assiduous effort gave to the Acts of the Apostles, i. e. that explanation which is satisfied and believes to have achieved all, when it has made one miracle after another into a half-natural, but in truth only more unnatural, event by the imposition of strange, natural or psychological elements, is abandoned to its own worthlessness and insignificance, in which it is forever exposed and even removed from the sphere of investigation as soon as the question has received its proper position, – we will lead the investigation to that point of unity in which the questions of the author’s purpose and standpoint, the question of whether he is a free creator or dependent on earlier works, the question of the time in which he wrote, will no longer appear as separate questions and their answer will depend neither on the violent presuppositions that Schneckenburger holds, nor on the precarious caution that Dr. Baur recommends.

From this point of unity of the investigation, which will clarify the relationship of the author of Acts to the Gospels in general, but especially to the Gospel of Luke, the relationship between Paul and Peter in Acts will receive its final clarification, and the difference between the former and Paul in the Epistles can only be fully established.

v

Raised to this point of unity, the investigation will finally prove its strength by drawing the Pauline epistles into its circle and subjecting them to the same question to which the Acts of the Apostles are subject. Dr. Baur, who still possesses undoubtedly authentic letters of the apostle in the New Testament canon, can only arrive at the “conviction” from the comparison of these with the Acts of the Apostles, “that in view of the great difference between the two accounts, the historical truth can only be either on the one side or on the other” *) – he must keep within this limited and arbitrary alternative, because the authenticity of the main Pauline Epistles is certain to him – but cannot both representations of the apostle be free works of reflection, late creations – cannot both representations have sprung from the same soil of deliberate reflection and on this soil still assert their difference, indeed, only now assert their difference with full force?

*) a. a. O. p. 5

Between the two accounts, remarks Dr. Baur **), “there is generally a similar relationship as between the Johannine Gospel and the Synoptic Gospels”, and so it is – we shall even prove the correspondence of the authorial relationship in the fact that in the Acts of the Apostles we find in the same way lost and imperfectly processed key words of the Pauline Epistles, as the dissonants of the fourth Gospel – partly also result from the fact that the author could not completely master the key words, echoes and borings which he borrowed from the Synoptic Gospels, But just as we have, with the help of our criticism, proved the difference between the fourth Gospel and the Synoptic Gospels, and at the same time the common origin of Gospel historiography in general from the formative Steflexioa, so we shall now also subject to criticism the boron assumption of the authenticity of the Pauline main Epistles, and bring the question from its previous half-ness to full and complete unity.

**) ibid. 

vi

The presupposition that “historical truth can only be either on the one side or on the other” can no longer assert itself before the seriousness of the question.

The Acts of the Apostles and the Pauline Epistles are subject to one and the same question, and the following examination of the former can therefore only be the preparation for the critique of the Epistles.

————-


BRUNO BAUER: Acts of the Apostles – in English

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by Neil Godfrey

The German text that I used for the translation is on Google Books:
Die Apostelgeschichte: eine Ausgleichung des Paulinismus und des Judenthums innerhalb der christlichen Kirche.

 

 


2023-04-25

BRUNO BAUER: Critique of the Gospel of John – English translation

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by Neil Godfrey

With the assistance of machine translation tools I have been making some of Bruno Bauer’s key works on New Testament criticism available in English. This page links to BB’s chapters on his Criticism of the Gospel of John, published in 1840. I will continue to add more chapters as (a) attempt to proof-read translations for accuracy and readability and (b) format them for online posting here. Unfortunately I have not been able to render all of BB’s words with the clarity I would like, especially his more philosophical and theoretical discussions. But there is still much more that is clear for those who are interested.

The page numbers correspond paragraph by paragraph to the published online text on Google Books so if you want to compare what I have posted here with the German original it should not be too difficult to do so.

The German text I have used is located on Google Books. Consider my effort a draft awaiting someone more knowledgeable of Bauer’s thought and the German language to refine into a more respectable translation.

Criticism of the Gospel of John

BB does not go beyond 10:39 in this volume. He continues discussion of the Gospel of John in Criticism of the Gospels and History of their Origin – in English. The reason for the break is that up to 10:39 the Gospel of John can be analysed for the most part independently of the Synoptic Gospels but in order to investigate the origin of the later chapters comparisons with the Synoptics are essential.

 

Comments by Martin Kegel on Bauer’s criticism of the Gospel of John

Comments on the Bruno Bauer’s Criticism of the Gospel of John by Martin Kegel: Bruno Bauer und seine Theorien über die Entstehung des Christentums [= Bruno Bauer and His Theories on the Origin of Christianity]. Quelle & Meyer, 1908.

The plan:

Bauer’s original plan had been to continue his “Critique of the History of Revelation” (Part I) by presenting the historical preconditions of Christianity to the critical examination of the New Testament Revelation. This plan – he says in the preface to his new work on the Gospel of John – of a presentation following the course of history, he has given up and with his new writing has entered a path that will lead more quickly to the goal1). He wanted to proceed in a literary-critical manner and begin his investigation with the latest form of New Testament literature. For, he later said (“Deutsche Jahrbücher” 1842, p. 670): “With the insight into the composition and tendency of the Gospels and their individual sections, the insight into their origin and into the historical basis or ideal meaning of their reports is also given”. He wanted to begin with the latest structure and then penetrate further and further into the early period of the production of New Testament literature and thus come closer and closer to the origins of Christianity itself.

But what was this latest structure? Bauer was certain that it was the Gospel of John. At the beginning of the century, this Gospel had been subjected to sharp attacks2) : the time was preparing itself in which one would no longer draw one’s knowledge of the founder of Christianity from the Gospel of John, as had been the case hitherto, but from the Synoptics alone, the time within which we still stand to some extent. Bauer helped to bring about this time; his work was intended to show that the fourth Gospel was not suitable to inform us about the origins of Christianity. — p. 25 — all quotations here are translations

Early days:

In his critique of John’s Gospel, Bauer had still admitted a number of important positive propositions with regard to the common view of the origin of Christianity; so in particular he had asserted the existence of Jesus and the revelation that had taken place in him of a power (if not quite transcendent, then at least) reaching beyond “all” humanity. — p. 36

Evolution of thought:

Already in his writing on the Gospel of John (p. V and especially p. 418 ff.) he had come to the conclusion that the history of Jewish consciousness, as it had developed from the conclusion of the canon to the appearance of Jesus, was still an unknown area; but there he had still assumed that the messianic views were widespread at the time of Jesus (p. 277 f.), that above all Jesus found his messianic self-awareness confirmed in the Old Testament (p. 335). There he only gave evidence in a supplement that at the time of Jesus the concept of the Messiah as a concept of reflection was not at all present among the Samaritans, let alone generally widespread . . .  — p. 37

History of Jesus or the Community?

But if Mark is of purely literary origin, it is obvious that what Luke and Matthew have more than their source Mark is also only a literary extension without a historical background. And this assumption, Bauer shows, can also be proven: nowhere in them do we find anything factual either, but always only construction! In the Gospels, whose conclusion is John, we have nothing more than a development of Christian self-awareness . . . — p. 40

The writing on the Gospel of John had already caused widespread offence by its content and tone . . . — p. 44

Bauer, as has been shown, had founded the whole edifice of his new theories on the proof that in the Gospel of John we have before us a unified work of reflection. From here he advanced to the assertion of the artistic structure of the Gospel of Mark and came to the conclusion: the story could not have proceeded in this way, so the Gospels do not report real facts to us, but they only give us views of the community. — p. 58

 


2023-04-23

§ 95. The report of the fourth

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by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

333

§ 95.

The report of the fourth.

John 20, 21.


Not only do the contradictions which theology thought it would have to spend the whole of history dealing with to the end of the world resolve themselves easily and without effort, but they also resolve themselves without much loss of time as soon as the true key is found – a proof that mankind will no longer need to spend much time – – no! at all on these things.

In the fourth Gospel, the women no longer watch Jesus being buried — the fourth, as has been noted, has advanced them by a few lines; Nicodemus and Joseph already embalm the corpse so abundantly – with a hundred pounds of aloes and myrrh — that the women have nothing left to do the next day after the Sabbath – – so they stay at home. The fourth sends only the Magdalene to the tomb; he must send a woman to the tomb so that the matter may be initiated at all, he sends only one because the others are superfluous and also disturbing for the elaboration of the contrasts which the evangelist has in mind for the following conversation of Jesus with Mary.

Mary Magdalene finds the stone taken from the tomb and immediately runs — why only to these two? — to Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them that the stone had been taken from the tomb. She suspected the enemies of what Matthew’s priests had imposed on the disciples out of malice, but the outcome disproves their assumption.

334

She runs to Peter because the fourth reads in Luke’s writing that Peter ran to the grave at the women’s message. He has to do the same here, except that the Fourth makes him run a noble race with the other disciple. Already their walk to the tomb is a race, they both run together, but the other disciple arrives first, bends over — like Luke’s Peter to see into the tomb, and sees the linen lying there, but does not go in. Peter also arrives, goes in and sees – so that he also sees something special! O, wonderful discovery! — He sees the linen lying there and the face-cloth that was on Jesus’ head, not – no, not! — lying with the linen, but — oh, how important! how great! how glorious! – but wrapped together on one side in a special place. “The great Peter! And yet how small! His glory is only that he first went into the tomb and saw the face-cloth, but — he thought nothing of it! He did not know how to appreciate his find. Only the other disciple, who now also went into the tomb and now also saw the face-cloth, believed – as Luke’s Peter wondered at the incident.

Well, if he believed, why not Peter? Why not Mary Magdalene, who is now suddenly standing by the tomb again and weeping? She must not yet believe for the sake of the following contrasts. She must first see the angel or the two. She does indeed see Luke’s two, but the fourth – oh, how symmetrical! – places the one at the head, the other at the feet where Jesus had lain. But why must Mary be here again? The two angels did not answer her complaints, saying that Jesus’ body had been taken away. She has to come back to the tomb – how clumsy! – because the fourth reads in Matthew’s scripture that Jesus appeared to the women as they were going away from the tomb. Yes, but that is something else; that is at least an external connection; but the last trace of connection disappears, we lose sight and hearing when Mary, after walking back to the city, suddenly stands at the tomb again.

335

The tasteless web of contrasts, where Mary, when she expresses her complaint to the two angels, looks around and sees Jesus but does not recognize him, mistaking him for the gardener – of the garden created by the fourth gospel – asking if he – imagine! – has taken the body away, recognizing Jesus only when he calls her by name “Mary!”, and Jesus saying “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father,” these contrasts fall to the ground before any human eye. The last one is not even properly developed and is only explainable from the scripture of Matthew, which is not taken from it, but only the assumption of this page is silently derived from it. In fact, the women of Matthew approach Jesus and worship him, embracing his feet.

Matthew’s Jesus does not forbid them to worship at all, but only tells them not to be afraid, nor to endure, but rather to bring the good news to the disciples.

Suddenly and mysteriously, Luke’s Jesus appears in Jerusalem in the midst of the hurrying people, calling out “Peace!” to them, and when they are frightened, shows them his wounds with the words: “Touch me and see!

From this, the fourth gospel has made the story that Jesus – correctly! – suddenly appears among the disciples late in the evening of the same day, with locked doors, saying “Peace be with you” and showing them his wounds. But contrasts! Contrasts! The fourth gospel wants them. So this time, he only breathes on the disciples and gives them the Spirit through this breath – as he promises them the power from above at the same occasion in Luke – and thereby also gives them the power of forgiveness of sins (– Matthew 18:18).

But the contrasts! the contrasts! Thomas was not present this time. Therefore, after eight days, Jesus must appear once again because Thomas, in the meantime, had proven himself to be unbelieving against the report of his brothers, so that the previously omitted feature of touching could be supplied and Thomas could have the desired opportunity to touch the resurrected one. Poor Thomas! What has he suffered so far! *)

*) The assumption that Jesus had to fight with those who doubted the reality of His person, is very clumsily brought up by Matthew – and only in a few words – when he brings it up in C. 28, 17 at the only meeting of Jesus with the disciples and even at the same moment he lets some doubt that the disciples worshipped Jesus at all. Under these circumstances, since we do not know where some of them came from, Matthew’s account must have become as confused as it has in fact become. Only Luke’s account is coherent: first the disciples doubt, then they are taught, and afterwards, when the Lord departs from them, they worship Him.

336

But doesn’t Luke also tell the story that Jesus ate to prove his reality back then? Patience! The fourth gospel also reads in the scriptures of Mark and Matthew that Jesus met with the disciples in Galilee? Patience! The fourth gospel seems to end his writing right after the Thomas section (Chapter 20, verses 30-31), when he says: “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.” The fourth gospel was impatient; he connected this reflection too early to the saying, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” As we are used to seeing from him, he made a mistake and will continue in his laborious and disconnected manner soon enough. But haven’t the greatest theologians proven that Chapter 21 is spurious and written by a later hand? We have proven, on the other hand, where the fourth gospel took his material from: from his imagination and from the writings of the Synoptics. We saw that he copied Luke everywhere – if one were to strike out as spurious what is borrowed from Luke, without lamenting the loss, this gospel would have to be struck out from the beginning, from the questioning of John until the end, with a mighty cross. The fourth gospel has just copied from Luke again: well then! He is now also copying what he had not yet copied last: he lets Jesus eat with the disciples, by letting him appear before the disciples in Galilee out of obedience to Mark and Matthew. He lets him appear before them at the Sea of Galilee because he believed he could bring in Luke’s story of Peter’s fishing here. He lets Peter be instructed with the office of the chief shepherd on this occasion because he reads in Luke that Peter should strengthen and establish his brothers, he brings this investiture of Peter here because it seemed to him to be a fitting conclusion for his writing and (according to Matthew) the laying of the foundation for the building of the Church. Finally, he could bring in a contrast here, which made it possible for him to mention “the other disciple” and to assure that he wrote the gospel of the heart.

337

It is no longer worth the trouble to point out how shapeless and inhuman the elements of the original report have become under the hand of the Fourth – for this reason alone it is not worth the trouble, since we have already proved how unsubstantial and vapour-like these elements all are already in the original report, in Luke’s report. What, then, they had to become under the hand of the Fourth! The disciples, among them Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, had spent the night casting their nets in vain on the lake: there stands Jesus on the shore! on the shore! they do not know him, like the disciples of Emmaus, and he asks them: Children, have you nothing to eat? — — — No! we avert our gaze from it for ever and ever!

Only the question remains, who is the “other”, the favourite disciple who wrote the Gospel? It is not John! He is hidden among the “two others” whom the Fourth mentions next to the sons of Zebedee (C. 21,2). The fourth man would have been so clever that he would not have mentioned the two Zebedees in this context and next to the unnamed one, if he had the Scriptures of Luke open in front of him, read the names of the two Zebedees here (C. 5, 10) and if he wanted the beloved disciple and author of the Gospel to be understood as John. In the very late time when the Fourth wrote, it was well known among the believers who the Zebedees were, and the Fourth should not have considered it even in one of his unguarded moments? Impossible!

338

But (parenthetically!) did he really write the last verses of his Scripture (C. 21, 24. 25)? Is not the assertion that Jesus did so much that, if one wanted to write it in one, the world would not contain all the books, a too conspicuous repetition of the early! Is it not too striking a repetition of the early conjecture (C. 20, 30) that Jesus had done many other signs? It is rather an exaggerated repetition, which can only belong to the fourth – or one would have to refute our whole previous work! – can belong to. But he says: “and we know that his testimony is true”? Well? doesn’t he say a moment later: “I mean, the world would not contain the books.” The Fourth (Gospel) loves such hyperboles, as we have already seen above in Chapter 19, verse 35, where he so excellently knows how to set up testimonies for himself. In this, as in everything else, he is lacking in restraint, and awkward, because he excessively exaggerates.

The other is also not, as Lützelberger thinks, Andrew, who together with an unnamed person is at the same time the first to follow Jesus (C. 1, 37 – 41). The fourth was so clever that he understood that if Andrew was acquainted with the high priest Annas, then Peter was also acquainted with him, and that he did not need to come to the palace of Annas through the mediation of another, the mysterious other. The other is rather the unnamed one next to Andrew, and with diligence the Fourth immediately has the great unknown appear the first time he introduces the disciples of Jesus.

339

So who is he? That would be a fine conclusion to our criticism if we were to be tempted to build hypotheses into the air.

Before we should stray so far, the contest that the unnamed and Peter wage in this Gospel should rather be more human, more sustained, and in general only be worked out to a more definite image. It is certain that the fourth wants to elevate his unnamed one by presenting him as a dangerous rival of Peter, even as a rival who often wins the battle. But what a battle it is and what matters it revolves around! They race against each other “ah the grave, and the quarrel revolves in the end around who sees the linen or the sweatcloths first; the unnamed one must arrange for Peter to enter the palace of Annas, and satisfy Peter’s curiosity about the Master’s fate! If only the Fourth Gospel had left out this competition and conflict! The struggle is in itself terribly petty and insignificant, and in the end so unsuccessful that the Fourth, through Luke and Matthew, is nevertheless forced to bestow the office of shepherd on Peter.

But in the end, the Fourth Gospel still considers Peter significant! He is the one to whom Jesus says: “No! No!” – it is not known when and how and where he said that he should stay until he comes again. And when does Jesus say that he may say this of the unnamed? When the fourth had copied from Luke’s account of Peter’s fishing expedition, now at so late a time, the note that Peter (C. 21:19,20) was told by the Lord to follow him, now that the fourth goes on to say that Peter turns round and stands following the unnamed man, and says to Jesus, “Lord, what shall he do?”– – Lord, what shall he do?

But if the fourth says that from that word of the Lord the opinion was formed that this disciple, the unnamed one, would not die, does he not then refer to a real conception of time? to a legend? Must the unnamed one not then be a certain, known person?

340

How can we still be impressed by a Gospel that is completely dissolved for us?

he Unnamed One is a nebulous figure, a foggy figure formed by the Fourth Gospel itself, and in this respect the Fourth Gospel has actually hit the mark. He first wanted to create the appearance that there was still a Gospel that came from an eyewitness, written directly by such a person. A nebulous figure was the only worthy author of such a scripture, as the Fourth Gospel has delivered.

————

In the Fourth Gospel, the Gospel story confronts us in its highest perfection, in its truth and as a revealed mystery. As a plastic representation of the same ideas, it might seem that the Synoptic Gospels stand above the Fourth, just as the theology of the Church Fathers, the mysticism of the Middle Ages, and the symbolism of the Reformation seem to stand as the plastic, completed forms above the narrowness, lack of content and nihilistic confusion of the new theology. But this is only an illusion. The relative priority of sculpture should not be denied to both, to those ecclesiastical creations and to the Synoptics – actually, if the whole is important, only to Mark. Only this more restrained, tighter form can itself not even be called plastic and human with any real right. Let us see a dogmatic execution of Augustine, Anselm, Hugo, Luther, and Calvin, which would have human form, inner form, support, and true coherence! Just one dogmatic sentence! The monstrosities of narrowness, of staggering contradiction, of stilted obtrusiveness, lie only hidden in the classical works of those men, and only poorly concealed under the deceptive cover of a tighter form. The newer ones, too, are classical if they present us only with narrowness, only with contradiction, only with obtrusiveness, and present it purely as such, without any further content. The newer ones have only peeled out the true kernel when they offer us the obtrusive nothing; they have betrayed the mystery, they are the true classics.

341

Thus the Fourth has betrayed the secret of the Gospel, which we have critically uncovered – a merit that predestined him to become the ideal and idol of the newer classical theologians and has truly made him an idol.

—————


§ 94. The report of Matthew

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by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

330

§ 94.

The report of Matthew.

Matth. C. 27, 62 — 66.  C. 28.


A healthy person only needs to hear that the chief priests and scholars of Christ, on the day after the crucifixion, go to Pilate, tell him that they remember that the executed man said during his lifetime that he would rise after three days, that they ask him for a guard for the grave, so that his disciples do not steal his body and say afterwards that he has risen, that the guard is placed correctly, but flees in terror when the angel comes to roll the stone from the tomb, that the soldiers run to the priesthood, but are bribed by them to say that the disciples stole the body – one only needs to hear all this to see that Matthew has not invented anything particularly beautiful. Not to mention that Jesus only spoke of his resurrection to the disciples in a small circle, and that the Roman soldiers had to run to their Roman captains to report, the evangelist’s intention to counter the Jews’ rumour, which he expressly combats (28:15), that the disciples had stolen Jesus’ body, is too glaring. The chief priests had to say and fear from the beginning (C. 27, 64) what was only later Jewish desecration.

And it is not even certain, not even probable, that a Jewish legend of this kind was generally spread at the time of Matthew. Perhaps only here and there, perhaps only from individual Jews, Matthew had heard an interjection that made him so concerned that he now sat down and formed this episode.

331

But it is not only clumsily formed, but also interrupts the context of the whole report. The negotiations of the priests with Pilate (C. 27, 62-66) separate the report at the point where the women watch Jesus’ body being buried, and where it should immediately follow that they went to the tomb in the morning after the Sabbath. Hence, because Matthew does not particularly understand the rejoining of the separated, hence, especially, because he had previously said so clumsily, “on the morning day, which came after the preparation day” (27:62), hence it comes that he afterwards so awkwardly and abenthemously inserts the mention of the Sabbath, that he says (28:1) “late on the Sabbath bath,” and that he must therefore also set the time somewhat early: “when it dawned on the first day after the Sabbath”, the women went to the tomb.

The negotiations of the priests with the runaway soldiers not only separate the note that the women went to bring the good news to the disciples from the following (C. 28, 8-16), but they are also to blame for the fact that the women did not bring the message to the disciples at all. The disciples set out on the journey to Galilee without Matthew having actually invited them to do so through the women.

The watch is also against the inner plan of this passage. No unbeliever is allowed to witness the resurrection.

But also no believer! Matthew presents the matter in such a way that at the same moment when the women arrive at the tomb (28, 2: και ιδου. V. 5: αποκριθεις), the angel comes from heaven with an earthquake, rolls the stone from the grave and then sits on it (!). It is inappropriate that the angel rolls the stone away – how embarrassing is this pragmatism, of which Mark knows nothing yet; Mark covers this matter, which, when seriously considered, is very petty, with a benevolent veil, so that now the matter can rather come down to the fact that the stone, when it was time, made room of its own accord for the Risen One. It is inappropriate that the guards and the women should see the resurrection and see the supersensible, mysterious process as a sensual one.

332

But they do not see him. At the same moment when the angel speaks to the women and tells them: He is risen, he presupposes that the resurrection has already happened, i.e. Matthew writes Mark off again.

Matthew has worked out another episode: when the women hurry home to the disciples, Jesus himself meets them and gives them the order to tell the disciples to come to him in Galilee. Inappropriate superfluity! Especially since Jesus had already described Galilee as the point of unification after the resurrection, it was all the more inappropriate that He gave the women the same command again that they had just received from the angel. But Matthew did not remember at this moment that Jesus had already spoken to the disciples about this, the words of the angel: “as he told you”, Mark 16, 7, he changed into the other: “See, I told you”, because he did not know how to interpret the text of Mark immediately, and now Jesus Himself had to appear and give the women this commission.

How easily these contradictions are resolved! They remain, but as explained and resolved, and no art of lying will make them again the labyrinth in which the Minotaur of faith devours its victims.

From “the mountain” in Galilee, the disciples meet Jesus, who, with the formula of later dogmatics, baptises the nations in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Matthew does not explicitly mention the Ascension because he lets Jesus speak as one to whom all authority in heaven and on earth has been delegated and who, although occupying the throne of heaven, nevertheless dwells among His own all the days until the end of the world. He who speaks in this way is already enthroned in heaven and already dwells in spirit among his confessors.

————


§ 93. Luke’s account

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

326

§ 93.

Luke’s account

C. 24. Acts. 1, 3 -11.


Already before, when Jesus left the last supper with the disciples to the Mount of Olives, He told them that He (Mark 14, 28) would precede them to Galilee after His resurrection. Luke, who wanted all the appearances of the Risen One to take place in and near Jerusalem, therefore had to omit that word of Jesus – we have seen how splendidly he filled the gap – and if the angel’s message to the women should still contain the word Galilee, give this mention a new twist. So the two angels who appear to the women in the open tomb say: He is not here, but has risen; remember what He said to you while He was still in Galilee, when He said: The Son of Man must be crucified and rise again the third day (C. 24, 6.7).

The women must not be believed by the disciples with their message, Jesus Himself must first appear to the disciples in Jerusalem and in the city, so that they are held back in Jerusalem – the Lord therefore appears to them on the day of His resurrection (C. 24, 13. 33. 36) – they must remain here in the city, so that Jesus may ascend to heaven at Bethany, and here the Ascension must take place, so that Jesus may command the disciples to remain in Jerusalem until they receive the power of the Spirit (24:49), and so that then the outpouring of the Holy Spirit itself may take place in the holy city and among the crowd of strangers who were present on account of the Pentecost feast.

327

The transition from the appearance of the women in the tomb to the appearances of Jesus himself, as well as the transition from the disbelief shown by the disciples towards the women’s message to the conviction they later gained when Jesus appeared before them – first to two, then to eleven – is represented by the curiosity of Peter, who ran to the grave after the women’s message was received poorly, leaned over and saw only the linen cloths (24:12).

It is worth noting that Luke has the women see two angels, because later at the Ascension he places two beside the disciples, and because he deemed the symmetry of the image more fitting with the number two. Indeed, at the Transfiguration, two heavenly figures also appear at the sides of Jesus.

As for Luke’s additions, first of all, the curiosity of Peter, when it was said before that the disciples laughed at the message of the women as foolishness, is very badly placed, and the laughing at the message is again very inappropriate, when the angels reminded the women that Jesus had previously spoken of his resurrection.

The majority of Jesus’ appearances are a disruptive excess, because they drag the resurrected one, who is supposed to sit at the right hand of the Father in heaven, far too tumultuously into the earthly changes of time and place. It is inappropriate that the appearances, though they are secretive, happen right in the midst of Jesus’ opponents during a walk near Jerusalem, in the city itself, and close to the city at Bethany. One appearance is sufficient, and the only appropriate setting for it is the seclusion of Galilee.

328

It is affected how the two disciples on the walk to Emmaus do not recognize their Lord and only realize who they are dealing with when he breaks bread in the inn. The idea of the solemn expression with which one broke bread in the community during that festive occasion is the underlying concept here and is inappropriate when transferred to this situation. It is affected how Jesus questions the two about the reason for their sadness; it is an insult to the original gospel when Jesus now tells the disciples that all this had to happen so that the scripture would be fulfilled. Has Jesus not taught this before or not sufficiently? Or does Luke have new observations to make on this matter?

It is inappropriate and too sensual when Jesus, upon appearing to the eleven, lets them touch and feel his flesh and bones to convince them of the reality of his person, and when he finally eats fish and honeycomb in front of them for the same purpose. His appearance must be supernatural and momentary.

The extraordinary rapidity with which the Resurrection is followed by the Ascension on the same day is inappropriate, and the confusion that arises from the fact that it is already evening when Jesus arrives with the two at Emmaus is not insignificant. Is it then night when the two return to their brothers and Jesus appears immediately afterward, leading them to Bethany to say goodbye? Luke did not reflect on this.

When Luke closed his Gospel, he was already of the opinion (24:49) that it must be at a certain, thus miraculous, moment when the power from on high seized the disciples; it was certain to him that the disciples would receive this equipping in Jerusalem, so that – as we can now say and as the Evangelist himself indicates, v. 47 – the prophecy of Micah and Isaiah that the salvation of the world would go forth from Jerusalem would be fulfilled. But it was not until he wrote the Acts of the Apostles that he knew how to find out that the Spirit must come upon the disciples at the feast of Pentecost, perhaps because – we are only conjecturing here – in his time the feast of Pentecost was already associated with the law, and it now seemed fitting to him that the proclamation of the new law should begin on this day with Peter’s sermon, or perhaps only because he was mechanically reaching for the next feast, which follows the Passover. Likewise, he had now found out that the Ascension had to happen only after Jesus had shown Himself to the disciples for forty days – forty, the consecrated number of the OT – and had taught them about the Kingdom of God, as if He had not done so sufficiently during His life. (Acts 1, 3.) Now Luke also knows more precisely that Jesus did not ascend to heaven near Bethany in the plain, but rather on the Mount of Olives; it had to happen this way so that Jesus would be glorified on the mountain where Jehovah revealed his power. Zach. 14, 4. Here, at last, Luke brings in what he had not attributed to Mark above in the discourse on the last things (cf. Luk. 17, 37, another variation on this theme), that the disciples ask the Lord when he will restore the kingdom to Israel, and that he answers that it is not their business to know the times which the Father has determined in his authority *) – an inappropriate negotiation in this place, where Jesus already speaks of a date, namely of the one when they would be baptised with the Spirit. Since Luke had already dealt with the saying of Mark on an earlier occasion, could it be that Zechariah, who speaks of the Mount of Olives and of “that hour” in the same context, was responsible for Luke’s again referring to that hour? It is very probable.

*) The original passage Mark 13, 38 is formed after Zachar. 14, 7: καὶ ἡ ἡμέρα ἐκείνη γνωστὴ τῷ Κυρίῳ

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§ 92. The report of Mark

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

323

Fourteenth Section.

The Story of the Resurrection and Ascension of Christ.

 

§ 92.

The report of Mark

C. 16.


When the Sabbath was over, the women, among them Mary Magdalene, bought spices to embalm the body of Jesus and early in the morning after the Sabbath, as the sun rose, they went to the tomb.
Their anxiety as to who would roll away the stone from the vault of the tomb was lifted when they looked up and saw that the stone had been rolled away. They entered the tomb and saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were frightened. But he says to them: Do not be afraid; you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, the crucified – how inappropriate is the detail of this advertisement here in the assumed situation, i.e. how much the intention here betrays itself to present the contrast completely for the congregation—he has risen, he is not here. See there — again, how inappropriate and detailed! But the evangelist wants to exhaust all contrasts in brief — the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he goes before you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.

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After these words, the conclusion begins immediately and not later, which later hands added to the original gospel and which displaced the true conclusion. Even the words, “And they went out and fled from the tomb, for trembling and astonishment had seized them” (Mark 16:8) are already partly the work of a later hand. Matthew still reveals the true content of the original report when he writes, “So they departed quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples” (Matthew 28:8). These words in their later form are inappropriate, for the angel whom the women met in the tomb had already dispelled all fear from them. However, the following belongs solely to the later hand: that the women said nothing to anyone out of fear, that Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene in the morning, that she brought the fleeting message to the disciples but found no belief, that Jesus then appeared to two disciples in a foreign form on a walk, and finally to the Eleven when they were at table (Mark 16:8-14).

Mark’s pragmatism is not so uncontrolled and wasteful that he would leave the angel’s mission to the women so useless and futile, which gave Mary Magdalene a proof of Jesus’s resurrection once again, after she had already learned about it with the other women – as if the angel, who even took so much trouble to convince the women, was not credible enough – and then, after Magdalene again found no belief with her report, the Lord should be sent twice to the disciples. The note of the appearance that Magdalene was honored with is borrowed from Matthew and the Fourth Gospel, the characterization of Magdalene that the Lord cast out seven demons from her is from Luke, the same Luke provides the note that the disciples did not believe the unexpected message, and the note of Jesus’s appearance twice before the disciples.

There is no place in the Gospel for all these things, for only in Galilee should the Risen One appear to the disciples, as the angel expressly states.

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The later hand therefore made a serious mistake in the conclusion by placing the last appearance of Jesus not in Galilee, but still in Jerusalem in connection with the previous revelations. The error became even more pronounced by not separating the last appearance (v. 15-20) from the preceding one that took place at the table, and now the matter comes down to the fact that Jesus gives his last instructions to the Eleven here at the table and is taken up into heaven.

In the original Gospel, Jesus can only appear to his followers once, in Galilee, and he must appear to them outdoors so that, after commanding them to preach the gospel to the whole world and baptize those who accept it, he can be taken up into heaven at the right hand of God without offense. The later glossator overlooked that Jesus, after giving his final instructions to the disciples, leads them out into the open country to Bethany, and that it is only after Luke (24:43-51) that the ascension takes place here.

The description of the miraculous power that is promised to the believers is patched together from the writings of Luke. That they (Mark 16:17-18) should drive out demons in the name of Jesus is necessary so that they may be like the Seventy; that they should pick up snakes is also appropriate so that they do not fall behind the Seventy who tread on snakes, and so that they become like Paul, who shook off a snake that had bitten his hand without any harm coming to him (Acts 28:3-6); that they will not be harmed if they drink something deadly is a proof that, like the Seventy (Luke 10:19), nothing can harm them; they will speak in new tongues, as actually happened according to the Acts of the Apostles, and finally they will lay their hands on the sick, as they had already healed the sick before, following the command of their Lord (Mark 6:13).

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It does not seem that the original account promised the disciples the power of miracles, since they already had this power before and there is nothing in the parallel accounts of Matthew and Luke that suggests a promise of this kind was included in the original text

The power over snakes was given to the believers only by Luke, in whose writing the account of the Seventy was first created. Luke showed, through the example of Paul, that the privilege of the Seventy had been passed on to all messengers of faith. Luke found the source of this privilege in the Old Testament (Psalm 91:13).

———————–


§ 90. The Crucifixion, Death and Burial of Jesus

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

291

§ 90.

The Crucifixion, Death and Burial of Jesus.

 

1. The procession to Calvary

Mark 15, 21, 22


Jesus is led out of the city to Golgotha (i.e. as Mark translates the name of this place, the place of the skull) and a man who has just come from the field is forced to carry the cross. Mark calls him Simon of Cyrene *), and it was from him that the others first learned the name of this man and the place of execution. But nowhere do we complain about the name Golgotha, which Josephus should have mentioned more often; but he didn’t know him yet, because it was only Mark who formed him. And Simon of Cyrene? Before you dare to blame us for our unbelief in this name and its Lord, first answer us, why was he requisitioned, a man who had just come from the field? Did not people go with the procession? Does such a procession happen without escorts?  Who was first curious enough to inquire about that man’s name? As if a name were that difficult to form! As if Mark hadn’t created a Jairus before!
As if that feature shouldn’t serve purely and simply to indicate that Golgotha lies outside the city, because strangers can only meet a person who comes from the field as such if one is close to the gate, either still within the city or already outside of it. Mark doesn’t even say that or if Jesus had carried the cross until then, or if he had given signs of exhaustion. It is determined by one interest only, namely, to impress the reader with the most definite idea that Jesus suffered outside the city; for Jesus is the sin offering of the Day of Atonement, whose body was burned outside the camp. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews already found this evangelical view and explains it correctly when he says: Jesus also suffered outside the gate so that he could sanctify the people with his own blood. C. 13, 11-13. Luke and Matthew took Simon’s note from their account, but the fourth erased it, he says: Jesus carried his cross, because he wants to make the matter more sensitive by saying that Jesus himself “went out to the place of the skull carrying the cross. ” C. 19, 17.

*) The further determination: “the father of Alexander and Rufus” is an overabundance that is alien to Mark. It is an addition that a very late reader added. The two names were taken arbitrarily from the letters of the NT.

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Luke has formed an episode here: Not only does he say here that the two criminals who were crucified with him were led out together with Jesus, but he also tells us that a large crowd of people joined the procession and that the women who also went, mourning and weeping for Jesus. Jesus answers them that they should not weep for him, but for themselves and their children, for there will come a time when people will say what Luke reads in the scripture of Mark (Mark 13:17), that those who are pregnant and nursing should be pitied, when they will say what the miserable say in the scripture of Hosea: Mountains fall upon us (Hos. 10, 8); because, Jesus concludes his discourse (C. 23, 27-32), if that happens to the green tree, what will happen to the dry tree? — whether that means: if this happens to pregnant women, how should it go for hard sinners — or not is unclear, is also extremely irrelevant; – only so much is clear that the evangelist takes a saying of Ezekiel (C. 20, 47. 21, 3), namely the saying that the judgment should fall on the dry and green wood, the unjust and the just, in a very unclear way not processed here, but only attached.

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2. The bitter potion.

Mark 15, 23. 36.


Twice Mark has a bitter and astringent drink given to the Lord, the first time immediately after the arrival at Calvary adding myrrh to the wine, and afterwards, when Jesus uttered his last lamentation, vinegar, with which one of those close to him had soaked a sponge.

When Jesus rejects the wine the first time, we should not, indeed, look for everything that people usually thought and dared to invent. It was believed that, before being executed, criminals were allowed the favor of throwing off the burden of consciousness by drinking heavily spiced wine. Myrrh does not intoxicate! Now, however, when Jesus is still free to dispose of himself, he rejects what someone else will later give him when he can no longer resist; namely, that drink which Matthew has somewhat clumsily revealed, when he wrote for the first time that Jesus was given vinegar mixed with gall. This is the drink over which the Righteous One of the Old Testament already complains, that when he was thirsty, they gave him vinegar to drink (Psalm 69:21). Matthew added gall to the vinegar, of which the Righteous One says that they put it in his food. Mark mixed the drink in such a way that the historical probability was not too greatly violated, and the situation was not too greatly mocked.

Luke knows of one drink, the second one that was given to Jesus when he was already hanging on the cross (Luke 23:36). He says that the soldiers gave him vinegar out of mockery, but he does not say how they came up with such mockery. His episodes did not leave him room for the first drink and for the proper introduction of the second one. He had just reported the speech of Jesus to the women of Jerusalem, and now, as soon as he reports that Jesus was nailed to the cross, he wants to remark that Jesus, as Isa. 53:12 is prophesied, prayed for sinners. Father, says Jesus (C. 23, 34), forgive them, for they know not what they are doing; just as Luke has Stephen pray before his departure (Apostles 7:60): Lord, do not hold this sin against them!

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Because of his episodes (the negotiations of the Jews with Pilate about the title on the cross and the arrangement of the lottery of Jesus’ clothes), the fourth did not have any time left for the first drink either: but he gives the second all the importance that it is due. Jesus not only calls so that the scripture (Ps. 69, 22. Ps. 22, 16) would be fulfilled: I am thirsty, but he also takes the vinegar to be able to have it immediately: It is finished. The thirst of Jesus, the giving of the vinegar and the consumption of it have now put the final seal on the fulfillment of Scripture.

 

3. The lottery of Jesus’ clothes.

Mark 15, 24


Immediately after the crucifixion—immediately thereafter, so that the scene is at the foot of the cross—the soldiers divided Jesus’ garments among themselves in such a manner that they cast lots over them to determine “who shall receive.”

Luke omits the last specification given and merely says that they cast lots when they divided the clothes (C. 23, 34). Matthew reports the matter just as briefly, but he also tells us why Mark wrote this feature, because it was important and necessary for the Scriptures that prophesied of this distribution of clothing to be fulfilled (C. 27, 35. Ps 22, 19). Finally, the fourth, since in the psalm the same thing is signified by two parallel expressions, takes this signification seriously and, as Strauss was the first to remark, forms his new story from it. For it is written in the Psalm: “They divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.” (Psalm 22:18) The fourth gospel then tells us that the soldiers, who had suddenly become four in number, divided Jesus’ clothes into four parts and “cast lots” for his tunic, which was woven in one piece and they did not want to tear apart – as if they had torn apart the other clothes, which not even the fourth gospel dared to say! – so that, as the fourth gospel adds, the scripture would be fulfilled (John 19:23-24), as Matthew had already taught us.

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4. Jesus on the cross.

Mark 15, 26-36.


Mark only knows how to tell of the mockery that Jesus suffered on the cross.

Even the attached plaque with the inscription: the king of the Jews! is a mockery, the continuation of those that Pilate had already allowed himself before.

Two robbers are crucified on either side of him in order to equate him with the rejected.

The passers-by mock him, nod their heads scornfully and say: aha! who wanted to tear down the temple and expand it in three days! rather save yourself and get off the cross!

Even the high priests stoop to this mockery and add to it from the miracle side in general, saying, “He saved others, but he cannot save himself! Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, that we may see and believe.”

Even those crucified with him mock him.

At the sixth hour, darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. Then, at the ninth hour, Jesus spoke with the words of the psalm (Psalm 22:2): “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The exclamation “Eloi, Eloi” gave rise to some thinking about the connection between the Messiah and Elijah, which led to mockery: “He is calling Elijah!” and even the one who gave him the sponge with vinegar said, “Let’s see if Elijah comes to take him down from the cross!”

Matthew also tells the story essentially and in almost the same words in chapter 27, verses 37-49. The small change that he has the entire body of the high priests, along with the scribes and the elders, station themselves at the cross to mock Jesus instead of just the high priests alone, is not noteworthy.

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However, Luke had to make changes because he had left out the testimony of the witnesses about what Jesus said in the temple earlier, and had reserved it for the story of Stephen. He could not have the people in general utter the mocking words, and then have the high priests say something different. He had to simplify or, if he could not do so intelligently, confuse the story. He did both! (Luke 23:35-45) First, he simplified: “The people stood there watching, and the leaders even scoffed at him. They said, ‘He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.'” But now, because Luke did not want to ignore it and, in his slavish dependence on Mark, could not ignore it, he includes the soldiers’ mockery of giving him vinegar – not, of course, mocking the exclamation “Eloi, Eloi!”, but a variation on the same mockery of the leaders, which Mark reports and which Luke had just mentioned himself: “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself!” Only after these words – too late and in the wrong place – did it seem appropriate to Luke to mention the inscription on that sign that was attached to the cross.

A new mockery follows! Only one of the two criminals actually mocked Jesus – but how? – with the words that Luke reads as the mockery of the high priests in Mark’s account: “If you are the Messiah, save yourself – of course! – and us!” With this episode, Luke’s account is directed. The other criminal rebukes his companion, asks Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingly power, and Jesus responds: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

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The note about the solar eclipse that follows is very misleading in Luke’s account, because he had to omit what gives it context in Mark’s account. He does not indicate the duration of the three hours, because he had already reported the incident of someone waving at Jesus out of mockery, which gives rise to the new taunt prompted by Jesus’ cry of “Eloi!” Now he cannot report the taunt again. In his anxiety to fill the gap, but only the spatial gap, he says that darkness covered the land from the sixth to the ninth hour, and the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was torn”, as if the darkness of the sun followed the darkness and as if the tearing of the temple veil did not occur until after Jesus’ death. Luke has everything out of order because he introduced the note about the person who gave Jesus vinegar too early and then wanted to report some new information (v. 48, 49) later.

The original account was as follows: Mark himself says why the two criminals were necessarily placed beside Jesus, so that the scripture would be fulfilled, which says: “He was numbered with the transgressors,” Isa. 53:12. The taunting in general was necessary because the Righteous One of the Old Testament laments: “I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people. All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads” Ps. 22:7-8. Finally, Matthew cites verse 9 from this psalm to emphasize how the people must taunt the Messiah: “He trusts in the LORD,” they say, “let the LORD rescue him if he wants him.”

The fourth gospel only tells of one of these mockeries, namely that two criminals were crucified on either side of Jesus, and the other, that Pilate attached a plaque to the cross with the inscription – in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, as Luke later learned from Mark and from him the fourth gospel learned – “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews”. As already noted above, his episodes took up too much space and time for the evangelist. He now adds a new episode immediately after the casting of lots for the seamless garment, one that makes the mockery mentioned earlier pale in comparison. Notably, the space it takes up must come at the expense of other details reported by Mark. The evangelist has incorporated the notice of the women who “from afar” – as is the only way that makes sense and is reasonable – watched and afterwards observed where Joseph placed the body. The women, together with the beloved disciple, are suddenly standing at the foot of the cross, so that Jesus can entrust his mother to the disciple’s care (John 19:25-27). Since we have already valued the notice of these women in their worth above, the criticism of this episode in the fourth gospel is also given, and it is therefore not worth the effort to mention that the fourth gospel lists other women than Mark, namely three Marys: the mother of Jesus, her sister, and Mary Magdalene.

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5. The hours of the day of death.


The way in which Mark calculates the hours of the day of Jesus’ death is beyond doubt due to the context. When he says in Chapter 15, verse 25, that it was the third hour when Jesus was crucified, and the sixth when the darkness came, which lasted until the ninth hour, at the end of which Jesus died, it is clear that our third hour of the morning is his ninth, his ninth is our third hour of the afternoon, because the sixth hour is noon: the darkness – that is the contrast that Mark worked towards – came when the sun reached its culmination point.

For the remark of when Jesus was crucified, Luke has no space – due to the episode of Jesus praying for his enemies in Chapter 23, verse 34 – and no time, because he struggles with the transition to the mocking of Jesus by the people and the rulers. Afterwards, he reports the time and duration of the darkness; and Matthew reports only the latter, for the remark of when Jesus was crucified, he had no space, since he quoted the scripture that was fulfilled when they divided up Jesus’ clothes.

Luke has no space to comment on when Jesus was crucified because of the episode of Jesus praying for his enemies, c which Obem must torment very much. But afterwards he reports the time and duration of the darkness; the latter is also reported by Matthew alone, for he had no room to note the time at which Jesus was crucified, since he was citing Scripture, which was fulfilled when the robes of Jesus were given away.

Due to his episodes, the fourth Gospel does not even have enough space left to mention the darkness. Without much thought, he uses a number that caught his eye in the writings of his predecessors, for his purposes: at the sixth hour *), it was, he says in chapter 19, verse 14, when Pilate finally gave in to the stormy demands of the Jews and handed Jesus over for crucifixion.

*) Above (in the criticism of the ev. Gesch. d. Joh. p. 45) we probably made a mistake when we accepted the fourth and the connection in honor that the tenth hour is our tenth in the morning. Since the fourth is capable of everything, it is more likely that he calculates C. 1.40 in the same Hebrew way that he also follows C. 4, 6 for in the last place the sixth hour can only be that of noon. The sixth hour of the Suffering Day is nothing at all, it was only thoughtlessly noted down by him.

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6. The death of Jesus.

Mark 15, 37-39.


The last words Mark put in his master’s mouth—my God! my God! why did you leave me? he wrote, without getting involved in any way with the possible consequences, only to show that Jesus had really proved himself to be the Messiah right up to the moment of his last sufferings, and the Holy Spirit already had a picture of his pain revealed long before to the psalmist.

With a loud cry, Jesus soon dies. The temple curtain must tear apart to make it clear that the world now has free access to God, and the captain of the Roman guard, who was standing in front of Jesus, must be prompted by the cry (!) with which Jesus died to exclaim, “Truly, this was the Son of God!” This is not so that one might later ponder in what sense he spoke of a Son of God, but rather so that the last moment of Jesus may be glorified through the testimony of a non-Jewish person. Now that the Jews seem to have won, a harbinger of the faithful Gentile world must come forward to announce the victory of the crucified one in advance.

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How Luke has disrupted the development of this scene is shown. When the temple curtain was torn apart, Jesus – similar to Stephen in Acts 7:59 – said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Luke had to provide an exclamation for Jesus, as he could not use the other one: “Eloi! Eloi!” Additionally, the centurion said, “Truly, this man was righteous.” Luke had to soften the statement of the Gentile, as there was no need for any special testimony after Jesus had just previously told the repentant criminal, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Finally, since Luke had already mentioned the women (in chapter 8, verses 2-3), he had to include the note from Mark about them here, too. He also leaves space (!) for male acquaintances who watched from a distance and for the other note – the counterpart to the above note about the weeping women of Jerusalem – that all the assembled crowds (!) beat their breasts. Now, he believes, it was time for the prophecy of Zechariah (12:10) to be fulfilled. (Luke 23:46-49.)

Matthew follows Mark, but between the note of the renting of the veil and the size of the centurion, inserts the remark that an earthquake happened, the rocks rent, the tombs opened, many of the buried saints—an Abraham, Moses, David, etc. — rose again, emerged from the grave, after their *) resurrection went into the holy (!) city and showed themselves to many (C. 27, 50-54). When it is said that “the chief and the guards who were with him” (which Matthew very inappropriately has them spying and speaking with their leader) saw the earthquake, the point is that they also saw the resurrection of the saints and their departure into the holy city. This miracle was what finally caused them to exclaim, “Truly, this was the Son of God.” In other words, the episode is ultimately overwhelmed by the context – which is only correct in Mark’s writing.

*) not after the resurrection of Jesus, as later scrupulocity changed to give Jesus back the privilege of being the first of the resurrected. It is to be read αυτων, not αυτου.

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The interests already mentioned and the interest that now follows (in verse 31), namely his concern for the purity of the Jews who will be partaking of the Passover lamb that night – all of this has so preoccupied the Fourth Gospel writer that he does not even mention anything about the tearing of the temple curtain.

 

7. The Real Death and Burial of Jesus.

Mark 15, 42-46.


While Mark reports that an honest councillor, Joseph of Arimathea, plucked up the courage and asked Pilate for the body of Jesus, he does not yet think of overwhelming the interest to the point that he would dwell on it for a long time and the benevolence of Joseph motivated and explained. Rather, he is only concerned with proving that the dictum of the Holy Spirit, that after his death the Messiah will find his tomb with the rich after he had been appointed with the criminals, was fulfilled (Isa. 53:9), he only has the other interest of confirming the death of Jesus as having actually taken place, in order to at the same time confirm the subsequent miracle of the resurrection as a miracle. Pilate, namely, when Joseph presents his request, is surprised that Jesus has “already” died, lets the centurion stand guard, and asks him whether Jesus—here the evangelist’s interest is betrayed somewhat too keenly—had died “long ago.” , and when he heard the confirmation from the centurion, he gave the corpse to Joseph. He wraps him in linen and places him in a rock vault, in front of which he then rolls a stone.

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Luke does not see the significance of Pilate’s questions to Joseph and the centurion, but rather leaves out everything related to it because he has other interests. He describes Joseph to us more closely: “he was a good and righteous man who had not consented to the counsel and deed of his fellow council members – (or!), Luke writes very carelessly – and he himself was waiting for the kingdom of God.” This formula, which belongs solely to Luke’s standing language, was only inserted into the Gospel of Mark by a later hand. Additionally, Luke suddenly tells us that Joseph also embalmed the body, but like Mark, he also says that the women from Jesus’ entourage watched where Joseph laid the body, and like Mark, he also says that the women went to the tomb on the morning after the Sabbath to perform the embalming, as if they could think of doing so when they had seen that Joseph had already taken care of it. Finally, Luke tells us the news that no one had yet been laid in the tomb (Luke 23:50-55).

Matthew also did not pay attention to how important it was to establish the true death of Jesus; he omits Pilate’s relevant discussions and instead mentions Joseph, probably to incorporate the cue of that prophecy, as a rich man. He further develops the pragmatism of Luke by stating that Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, and finally, only out of negligence and not because he wanted to follow Mark’s account, he leaves out the fact that the women wanted to embalm the body – he only reports that Joseph performed the embalming (Matthew 27:57-61).

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With the cumbersome heaviness of someone who has to struggle to immerse himself in the customs of the Jews, the Fourth Gospel writer narrates the burial of Jesus’ body – in an unused tomb – and its embalming; in particular, he says that Nicodemus, who happens to come along as if on cue, brought the necessary materials – a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes. He also knows that Joseph, a disciple of Jesus, had been hiding out of fear of the Jews. What a clever or curious pragmatism! Then Joseph would have had to be most afraid now.

We are now approaching the point where the question of chronology will be answered.

The Fourth Gospel writer is so meticulous that he says the place where Jesus found his tomb was a garden that happened to be nearby, and they brought Jesus’ body there because time was pressing, as it was now the moment when they had to prepare for the Sabbath – not just for the enjoyment of the Passover meal!

He uses the same motive to remove Jesus’ body from the cross. The Jews, he says, asked Pilate to have the bodies removed from the cross so that they would not remain there until the Sabbath, and to break their bones beforehand – but we do not hear of this custom anywhere else. So the soldiers did this to the two criminals who were crucified with Jesus, but when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they spared him this procedure, and only one of the soldiers stabbed him in the side with a spear. (John 19:31-42)

He himself says why he thought these things were necessary, and he also lets us know how highly he values them when he says, “He who saw it has testified to it, and his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth – the all-knowing one knows that he is telling the truth! – so that you may believe”!! All of this happened, he says, to fulfill the scripture that commanded (Exodus 12:46) that no bone of the Passover lamb should be broken, and which said in another place (Zechariah 12:10) of the Messiah that they would see him whom they had “stabbed”.

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In short, the Fourth Gospel writer has no intention of confirming the death of Jesus, but rather uses the note from Mark that Jesus was truly dead to further his Christological dreams. However, he has another purpose: to prove that he did not write the so-called first letter of John. The author of that letter – whoever he was, it doesn’t matter here, but what is certain is that he was a man and wrote as a man with a soft pen, unlike the Fourth Gospel writer who has softened the forms of his style and taken away every muscle and nerve – that man says that Jesus came with water and blood, meaning that at the beginning of his ministry he was attested as the Messiah through baptism with water and ultimately through baptism with blood, so that water and blood testify on earth in communion with the Spirit (1 John 5:6, 8). And the Fourth Gospel writer makes this testimony, this blood and water testimony, consist in the fact that when that soldier had stabbed Jesus in the side, blood and water flowed out!

Thus, the significance to the Fourth Gospel writer of Jesus finally being shown as the true Passover lamb is evident, and this explains the transformation he allowed himself in the chronology of Holy Week.

 

8. The chronology of the week of suffering.


Therefore, the Fourth Gospel has taken away the character of the Passover meal from the last supper of Jesus with the disciples, he has reported nothing about the institution of the Lord’s Supper, he has afterwards reminded anxiously that the celebration of the Passover meal was approaching that evening, he has finally concocted a feature that made Jesus equal to the Passover lamb, so that it would be certain and every reader would notice that Jesus himself was the true Passover lamb and was sacrificed for the sins of the world, while the Jews enjoyed the shadow, the old legal Passover meal. According to him, Jesus was not sacrificed on the first day of Passover, but on the Sabbath following the Passover evening, which is this first holiday – he therefore says very awkwardly (as if this coincidental circumstance could only have persuaded the Jews not to allow the bodies to remain on the cross) that Sabbath day was a great day (chapter 19, verse 31) – thus, his account is also fragmented on this aspect, as it becomes clear that the significance of this Sabbath, which he initially set to be the first day of Passover, is blurred.

Mark arranged things so that Jesus offered his body, blood, and flesh to the disciples at the same moment that the Jews had to content themselves with the shadow, the Paschal lamb. Jesus was crucified on the first day of Passover, and the Sabbath during which he lay in the grave was now the counterpart to that Sabbath on which God once rested after creating the new world.

Furthermore, it was only Luke who called the first day of Passover the preparation day for the following Sabbath, thus robbing it of its independent meaning (Luke 23:54). The parallel remark in the Gospel of Mark (Mark 15:42) is partly a later addition borrowed from the fourth Gospel, as evidenced by the overcrowding of the sentence, a style not typical of Mark. Matthew only used the term “preparation day” in his episode about the Roman guards after learning it from Luke (Matthew 27:62).

We do not want to hold the Fourth Gospel responsible or rely on it when we overturn the chronology of Mark. We also do not want to note how unlikely it is that the trial took place on the first day of Passover and that the priests dared to execute Jesus on this day when they feared his followers. Nor do we want to remind ourselves that the account of the institution of the Lord’s Supper has dissolved, or that all parts of this story have suffered the same fate of dissolution, so that we have no more history before us. Rather, we need only to recall how the chronology of the Passion Week was shaped by the Christian idea to have the right to say that it was formed later than there was a Christian community, a Christian self-consciousness. This is the kind of tautology that the spirit has suffered from, been tormented and bloodthirsty, for eighteen centuries.

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Like true Christian art, especially painting, when it was still truly Christian, reached its peak in the portrayal of the sufferings and martyrdoms of the saints, and found its highest task in depicting the instruments of torture, the executioners, the gruesome contortions, distortions, and disfigurements that the bodies of the saints must suffer under the rough fists of the persecutors, so in this section the evangelical view has heaped up the most significant descriptions from the Old Testament of the sufferings of the righteous and worked them into one story. The only difference from the Old Testament view is that if in the latter the idea of suffering turns into the victorious revenge, the Christian spirit has given suffering a deeper meaning and sought to bring about the reversal, the peripeteia, in a different way. But not yet in the true sense! Suffering is still worked out too much in its crude externality, not yet fully grasped as inner and in itself world-conquering. Moreover, it is only viewed in this person as the true, as the highest, so its overcoming and dissolution cannot be viewed in a general form in the ongoing development of history. This person must rather rise bodily, she must win by bodily means, as she suffered bodily and as her bodily suffering appeared as a significant object of contemplation: i.e. this person must rise bodily and through the sense of touch convince her own that she has won. —-

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§ 89. The trial of Jesus before Pilate

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

278

§ 89.

The trial of Jesus before Pilate.

 

1. The Report of the Fourth.

John 18:33-40. 19:1-16.

The Jews who have their Passover lamb at hand stay outside remain standing outside when they have handed Jesus over to the governor as a criminal deserving of death. Pilate then goes back into the praetorium, welcomes Jesus and asks him whether he is the king of the Jews. If he now, instead of outright declaring himself, thinks he must raise a counter-question, he should in any case have asked it more clearly than he actually did. His question: are you talking about yourself or did others tell you? the judge couldn’t understand and neither do we. Whether the question is meant to ask whether Pilate is considering Jesus’ claim to kingship from a Roman perspective or from the perspective of the Jews who hold this claim, there would be no difference, which is what Jesus seems to be emphasizing at this moment, as the Jews, when speaking with Pilate about the matter, could only present it to him in the dangerous light in which it must have appeared to the Roman.

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Or, if the question is meant to ask whether Jesus is speaking about his claim to kingship as a divine belief that he himself holds, or whether he has been told this by others, then we might reasonably ask whether it was the time for Jesus to gain new followers or to pursue any even remotely appearing chance of gaining such followers. However, could he really have been uncertain about who Pilate had heard from that he was the King of the Jews?

Both cases that we had to consider as possible, the meaningless tendency of the question and this pretentious one, have crossed the mind of the Fourth [Gospel writer]. Both are present in the question itself, but these already baseless allusions could not be followed up and shaped into a coherent thought by the Fourth [Gospel writer], because he can never shape and because this time he pursued different tendencies at the same time.

(It is not worth noting that it is inappropriate for the Jews to have argued back and forth without telling Pilate what kind of criminal they were bringing, and for the governor to suddenly ask, “Are you the King of the Jews?” However, it is indicative of the Fourth Gospel writer’s style, or rather, the way he borrows from his predecessors and develops their statements. When Mark says that the Jews handed Jesus over to Pilate and he asked him if he was the King of the Jews, that is something completely different; it is told in a sensible manner.)

“Am I a Jew? replies Pilate. Your people and the chief priests handed you over to me. What have you done?” So because he is not a Jew, he has nothing to do with investigating what Jesus’ supposed claims are all about? And what does that mean, putting off the investigation first and then ask, “What have you done? Well, this latter question is only meant to bring about Jesus’ declaration that his kingdom is not of this world. So you are a king after all? replies Pilate, naive and curious as a child, and Jesus has not even denied it hitherto! He was supposed to only have the opportunity to notice that he is indeed a king and to impart the same formulas he uses throughout the whole fourth Gospel about his purpose for coming into the world. As he also mentions the word “truth” for this purpose, Pilate asks, “What is truth?” However, the Fourth Gospel did not come up with all those interesting intermediate thoughts that later cleverness combined with this question. The evangelist simply wanted to end the conversation and therefore lets Pilate pose a question to which he had very little to answer unless he wanted to teach the same old formulas over and over again. He then says that Pilate went out to the Jews with these words.

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We believe Pilate’s report to the Jews that he found no fault in this man during the wonderful interrogation. However, if he was convinced of Jesus’ innocence, he could not even take the middle ground and propose, in accordance with the Paschal custom of releasing a prisoner at that time, whether they wanted him to release to them the King of the Jews. Furthermore, if he wanted to save the accused, it was a childish and reckless obstinacy on his part to provoke the Jews through the form of the proposal, not to mention that it is not the custom of authorities to label the innocent with the title of the accusation.

Although these contrasts all collapse before the human eye, they repeat themselves again and again, until we run out of patience and are compelled and justified to cast down the concoction of this pragmatism with contempt. But it doesn’t even get that bad with him: it falls apart in our hands.

The people want Barrabas, a robber, free. Pilate obeys, takes Jesus, has him scourged, and the soldiers dress him in a mocking royal garb, taunt and mistreat him.

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Now we might think that it’s enough and the matter is over. But no! it goes on again and again from the beginning, and we can’t understand how it can ever come to an end.

Once again Pilate goes out to show the Jews, by bringing Jesus out with him, that he finds no fault in him. What a foolish man! How could he hope to find a hearing for his proposals by presenting Jesus to the Jews in a mocking king’s costume! Of course, the high priests and their servants cry out: “Crucify him, crucify him!”

Then Pilate answers, “Take him and crucify him!” As if they hadn’t already said before that they didn’t have the right to execute the death penalty. And if they had just said it again: “He is guilty, but we are not allowed to execute the death sentence ourselves.” No! They answer: “According to our law, he is guilty because he made himself the Son of God.”

Pilate is said to have become “even more” afraid, and he goes back (!) to the Praetorium, asking Jesus where he comes from – ποθεν, as Pilate is familiar with the language of the holy John – but Jesus remains silent. Pilate tries to win him over, reminding him that he has the power to crucify him or to set him free, and – can anyone treat their hero more frightfully, degrade him more deeply? – with this threatening argument, Jesus is actually moved to answer. However, even an answer that rebuked the governor was inappropriate if Jesus had already decided not to answer; indeed, an answer that only elevated his own person above Pilate’s pretended power was the most inappropriate in this case. He should have better introduced or used his reworked version of the saying he read in Luke, the saying (Chapter 22, verse 53) that “this is the power of darkness at this hour”. Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above.”

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The thing then starts again from the beginning. From then on, it is said – but he had proved from the beginning that he had this intention! — Pilate sought to set him free. But—the steps he tried to carry out his intention are not given! Naturally! because the stuff that his predecessors gave to the Fourth has finally run out — the Jews shouted, if you let him go, you’re no friend of Caesar. Anyone who makes himself king defies the emperor! Finally – as if he hadn’t known from the beginning that this man would attach himself to the kingship, as if it didn’t matter in what sense he attached it to himself etc etc etc — Pilate sits outside on his judge’s seat, carrying Jesus with him, but starts again the unworthy, we should mean long ago hounded joke that he introduces Jesus to the Jews as their king, and then asks them when they demand the crucifixion, should he crucify their king? Only when they reply that we have no king but the Emperor is the matter finally settled. But we still have no rest. Pilate gives Jesus to the Jews to be crucified. The Jews! The fourth, who now had so much to do with the Jews and finally wanted to quench their anger, forgets that Jesus could not be handed over to the Jews, but only to the Roman soldiers, according to the assumptions that he himself had so glaringly emphasized!

But why didn’t he close the matter with the fact that Jesus was handed over to be scourged by the governor and mocked by the soldiers with that king’s habit! Why does he then have this endless tangle of going back and forth, going out and going in, leading out and in! Why is he only now bringing up the fact that the Jews regarded Jesus as guilty of death because he had made himself the son of God! Why does he bring up Luke’s saying about the power of darkness here in the first place! In general, he has to fix the mistakes he made in the composition so poorly, and he even processes the new incident points that the other two have added to the original report, such as the note about the increasing fear of Pilate, even more clumsily than his predecessors!

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We’ll catch our breath when we read the original report.

2. The original report.

Mark 15, 1—21

Jesus is handed over to Pilate by the priesthood. He asks him, are you the king of the Jews? Jesus affirms it, but says nothing about all the accusations of the priests, remains silent even there, to the astonishment of Pilate, when he draws his attention to the seriousness of the accusations.

In short, Pilate is at a loss as to what to do.

The fact that the mob stormed up to the praetorium—the negotiations were taking place inside— *) and reminded him that he was in the habit of releasing a prisoner for them at Passover time. He immediately takes this opportunity to propose to them whether he should not release the king of the Jews to them; for he saw that the priests had handed him over to him only out of spiteful envy. Rather, they incited the people to demand Barrabas, a man who had committed murder in a rebellion and was imprisoned with the conspirators. From this proposal Pilate asks what he should do with the king of the Jews, they cry crucify him! and after he had noticed that he had done nothing wrong, and the people had repeated his cry, he gave him up to be flogged and crucified, but released Barabbas, which the fourth had completely forgotten to report on more important matters. The soldiers now lead Jesus into the courtyard, call the whole cohort together, clothe Jesus in that mocking royal garb, mock him, put his own clothes back on him, and then lead him out to be crucified.

*) V. 8: αναβας. After V. 18 :  ο εστι πραιτωριον is a later gloss.

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Before we examine the original report more closely, we shall first free it from the additions with which the other two hoped to enrich it for its own good.

3. Luke’s account.

Luke 23, 1-25.

Not even at the beginning, although he is still trying to preserve the structure of the original report, can Luke resist the temptation to improve, to change, to define more precisely; but if these changes are already unfortunate in the beginning, the definiteness which Luke imposes on the original features is only fragmentary, namely only spotted out here and there, while the other features remain as he finds them in the writing of Mark:— so he finally broke through the original report at one point and changed one feature so much that in this respect his account can compete with that of the fourth.

It is far too suggestive when the Jews come forward with the accusation that Jesus deceives the people and prevents them from paying taxes to Caesar by saying that he is the Messiah-King; This detailed and suggestive accusation is now the subject of Pilate’s question: are you king of the Jews? afterwards, when Jesus answers this question in the affirmative, it is much too early and unnaturally hasty that Pilate assures “the priests and the crowd” that he finds no guilt in this man, and when the adversaries affirm again , he stirs up the people by teaching throughout Judea, and that he began his career from Galilee to here is, according to the proportion in which the Gospel passages are worked out and expressed, a very unnecessary and superfluous remark.

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To Pilate, the word Galilee was like a godsend. When he heard that Jesus was a Galilean, he remembered that Herod, the accused’s ruler, was present in the capital right now, and sent Jesus to him. Later, after the account of Jesus’ unsuccessful interrogation by Herod, Luke informs us that Herod and Pilate, who had previously been enemies, were good friends at that time.

Pilate hit it very well with his idea. Herod was happy to see Jesus, for he had wanted to see him for a long time and he hoped to see a sign from him. But he asked him a lot!! Jesus was silent and — but where do they come from? did they know that Pilate sent Jesus to Herod? Must they always be where there is something for them to do? — the chief priests and scribes accused him severely! — the chief priests whom Pilate must later call together again when Jesus returns; the high priests, who, if they had accompanied Jesus to Herod, would certainly not have let him go alone on his return!

Later, however, when Pilate calls the priests back, he himself says that he sent them to Herod – but Luke should have mentioned this earlier instead of presenting the matter as if what happened between Pilate and Herod was only a private matter, only a proof of their renewed friendship! And if the priests were sent to Herod with Jesus, shouldn’t they have returned to Pilate with Jesus at the same time?

Things are back to where they were now. Pilate must again protest the innocence of this man and in vain – but no! Luke did not even know how to put the matter in such a way that Pilate, when the people reminded him of the Passover custom, made the suggestion that he should accordingly release the accused — No! after Pilate had declared, without reminding of this custom and without regard to it, that he wanted Jesus, after having him —! — have scourged, release, the people suddenly cry out, without us learning how the idea came about: take him and instead release us Barrabas! Therefore, when Pilate later makes his proposal again and even repeats it once more, despite the people’s outcry, stating that he finds nothing deserving of death in this man, this sets the stage for that endless and senseless expansion that so painfully tormented us in the fourth Gospel. On the other hand, it is not even explained how it came about that the dice were cast between Jesus and Barabbas, i.e., it is not motivated why Pilate persisted with his repeated proposals.

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And yet this interlude was originally intended to give Pilate an opportunity to extricate himself from his embarrassment, even through Luke’s unclear and confused presentation this determination can still be seen. — — —

i.e. if Pilate wanted to get himself out of the embarrassment by Jesus’ settlement to Herod – although Luke did not even know how to write in such a way that he would have clearly stated this intention – then a disturbing excess has entered the account.

Finally, the mockery of Jesus in the royal robe is only intended to conclude the development, and because of its crude character, it can only come from the soldiers and as the conclusion of this act, only from the Roman soldiers to whom the condemned was handed over for crucifixion. And, as Luke says, Herod dressed Jesus in the purple robe, mocked him with his soldiers, and sent him back to Pilate in the purple robe.

Not a word more about a report of this kind! We have already shown above that Luke used what Mark reports about the relationship between Herod and the Baptist in the most adventurous way to work out this novel between Jesus and Herod, and his imagination was so poor in this regard that he only knew how to process in this novel what can be read in the original report of the interrogation of Jesus before Pilate and of his mockery by the soldiers.

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Matthew has other news to tell us.

4. The account of Matthew.

C. 27, 2. 11-31.

He kept the order of things as they were in Mark, and copied more faithfully than Luke. However, when he comes to that incident and mentions the Paschal custom at the time, and then lets Pilate make the proposal without further explanation: “Whom shall I release to you, Jesus or Barabbas?” – how does the governor know that a certain Barabbas comes into play here? It is because Matthew is excessively hasty and inserts what he has learned from Mark’s scripture into Pilate’s mind without considering it. He had already made an extraordinary mistake in allowing Pilate to speak before telling us that the people reminded the governor of that custom.

As he sits on the judge’s seat and makes that very suggestion, the Fourth Gospel has the note from Matthew about the judge’s seat, which he then introduces in his own very laborious and anxious way. He only has Pilate ascend the seat at the end for the sake of solemnity, and also because the harried Pilate has been running back and forth before. Suddenly, while he is making this suggestion, his wife sends word to him, telling him not to harm this innocent man, for she has suffered much in a dream on account of him. It’s a pity that we don’t hear what she suffered, but it’s unfortunate that this episode is drowned out by the context! Because what did the people say in response to that proposal? We don’t hear it! No, because of that episode, once it’s finished, the story starts all over again: the priests convince the people to demand the release of Barabbas, and in response to this demand – as if it had never been made! – Pilate must reply: which of the two shall I release? The story thus falls into a bottomless abyss from which it will never emerge, and the episode is dragged down with it.

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A new episode! Finally, after Matthew has worked his way up to the point with the help of Mark where Pilate is forced to give in to the will of the people, he tells us that Pilate took water, washed his hands in front of the eyes of the people – washing his hands in innocence! – and said, “I am innocent of the blood of this righteous man. You can see for yourselves!” to which the people replied, “His blood be on us and on our children!”

What is the world in which a judge so vehemently protests the innocence of an accused and, when he nevertheless sentences him, thinks himself white-faced and settles the matter completely, as soon as he presents himself before the eyes of malicious persecutors, to whom he exposes the innocent, wash hands? What is the world in which the judge, who sits publicly free in the marketplace among the people, as soon as it enters his mind, immediately has water at hand to wash symbolically, or rather ridiculously earnestly, by washing his hands, to ensure his innocence? It is that world of Matthew in which the Roman governor must at all costs pronounce the innocence of Jesus, whatever the consequences may be. It is the world in which Jesus’ innocence must be declared at any price, even at the price of a Roman governor making himself look ridiculous; it is the same world in which people are sent dreams just as they are necessary for a petty pragmatism: for petty is this effort to establish the innocence of Jesus in every way.

Incidentally, the reason for the last episode, or at least one element that Matthew has processed in it, is that word that, according to Luke’s account, Jesus said to the women who wept for him on the way to Golgotha: Rather weep for you and yours Children!

After the episodes, the contortions, the endless extensions have experienced their fate, the original report will not be able to escape its fate either.

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5. Resolution of the original report.

Very wise remarks have been made that Jesus, after briefly professing himself before Pilate as King of the Jews, is silent on all further accusations; but the thing is simply this: Jesus had to be silent, because the Holy Spirit had dictated to the prophet that it would be so, because Jesus is the Lamb which, when it is led to the slaughterhouse (Isa. 53:7), does not open its mouth.

By resisting the demands of the priests, Pilate must provide the proof that Jesus really was innocent, by his inclination for the innocent he must provide the foil on which the raging fury of the Jews appears in all its gloom. and finally he has to declare that he finds no guilt in this man, so that he can speak like those princes who, in contrast to the vengeful priests, declared that Jeremiah (26:16) was not guilty of death.

However, the evangelical view cannot be consistent because it is never concerned with portraying a character accurately, as it does not recognize the value of any individual character or person, and only its momentary needs and contrasts are of importance. Therefore, it should not surprise us when Pilate is suddenly used in a different way and has to renounce his willingness to support Jesus at the moment when another contrast is necessary. As if he could be heard through such bitter jests, he presents Jesus as the King of the Jews to his opponents, because this is what Mark wants at that moment, as he aims to humble the pride of the priests while also demonstrating the Romans’ contempt for all Jewish beliefs.

As for Barabbas, Mark is the only witness who teaches us about that Passover custom, which the people suddenly thought of when things were quite different, but which they had to think of in order to be accepted by Pilate’s suggestion and through the insinuations of the priests it could happen that the lot was drawn over two people who touched each other in a strange way *). The copyist who wrote about Barrabas Matth. 27, 16 first added the addition “Jesus” may have already seen who Barrabas is. Barrabas, i.e. “the son of the father”, is the image of the Messiah created by Mark, namely the lying image of the true Messiah. The Jews demanded the false image and rejected the heavenly archetype. In a rebellion in which he stained himself with blood, Barabbas wanted to fight for the earthly freedom of his people, while Jesus taught freedom and the service of the kingdom of heaven, whose citizenship one only obtains by accepting it as a child. Furthermore, by his name Barabbas is the lying image of him whom his father from heaven called his beloved son. When finally on the Day of Atonement the lot was thrown over two, namely over the two goats, one of which had to fall to the Lord as a bloody sacrifice for the sin of the people, while the other went free, that one had to be chosen in a similar way who was to shed his blood for the sins of the people and the world.

*) As I said, I don’t want to spoil the end of my work by mentioning theological lies and shamefulness here. The theological archeology of the passion story is only a tautology, which merely repeats the information given by the evangelists and has the impertinence of wanting to count as the result of historical research. In another place, however, if one really wants it, although the matter is completely settled with the above criticism, I shall show to what lies theologians have taken refuge in this matter.

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The mocking coronation of Jesus by the Roman soldiers—the mockery of the world power at the promised king of Israel—is intended to bring the mockery to the extreme it could reach before the crucifixion and before the scenes that took place at it.

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§ 87. The Capture of Jesus

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

259

§ 87.

The Capture of Jesus.


According to the report of the Synoptics, it is Judas who makes Jesus recognizable to the henchmen by kissing him according to the agreement made with them. The Fourth, on the other hand, presents the matter in such a way that Judas only shows the place where they find Jesus, and he makes himself known to the crowd by coming out of the circle of his disciples (John 18, 4) and finally surrendering voluntarily, while he is captured by force according to the Synoptic account. (Mark 14, 46.)

Both are mutually exclusive: if the betrayer has already made Jesus recognizable by that kiss, he does not need to decoupage himself from his henchmen, or the appearance that he still gives himself, as if he wants to expose himself voluntarily to their violence, would be violently affected. Only one of the two is possible. We will first examine whether the report of the Fourth has the greater probability for itself.

Since Jesus – we know this introduction C. 18, 4 from before, C. 13, 1 – knew everything that was to come over Him, He came out to the crowd, asked – did He not also know? – whom they were looking for, and when they answered, Jesus of Nazareth, he said, I am he. Then the henchmen stepped back and fell to the ground, i.e. his appearance made such a wonderful impression on them that they trembled back and fell to the ground in worship, or at least in such a way that their powerlessness in the face of the divine became clearly apparent. For the second time, as if he had not heard it, as if he did not know it by himself and from the beginning, Jesus asks the people: whom are you looking for, they answered as before: Jesus of Nazareth, and he can now answer them: I told you, it is me.

If the people had really fainted, it would still have been timid if he asked again who they were looking for, since he knew their intentions very well and if he wanted to do it he could simply hand himself over to me.

If the people had really fallen down in a swoon, it would still have been a shame if he had asked again whom they were looking for, since he knew their intention very well and could have simply surrendered to them if he had wanted toBut this is only a pretense, that Jesus wants to know where he is and whether these are really the people who are looking for him: the repeated question is rather meant to express the inner joy of the heart over the contrast between his peace of mind and the embarrassment and powerlessness of the henchmen – an inner tickle in which only the evangelist takes such great pleasure, the evangelist who also formed the first question and the whole situation. Jesus, so it seemed worthy to the Fourth alone, is not to be captured by force by the henchmen, but as from the beginning he has always presented his suffering as one which he undertakes voluntarily, so also now, when the hour has come, he is to act absolutely with free will and hand himself over to the enemies. – But just as in the past, when danger threatened him, the attacks of the enemies were thwarted and even the hand that was already ready, the blow that was to be struck, was stopped because the hour had not yet come, so here, too, in the end, the divine power must once again intervene, strike down the enemies and make them powerless, i.e., in the midst of all striving, the divine power must be able to do the same. That is, the evangelist did not notice that he had set in motion his pragmatism, which was already highly unfortunate in itself, at the wrong time, because he was so anxious to secure the power and majesty of the Lord against all doubts. For if otherwise the blow was stopped because the hour had not yet come, now at least it was a very inappropriate waste of the divine miraculous power if the enemies were paralyzed again when the hour had really come.

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Whether the account of Mark is as historical as it is simple, and whether the betrayal kiss of Judas is fabricated for the sake of contrast, will be determined when the final judgment on this whole section of the Passion story is made. Luke no longer simply reports that contrast; he reflects on it by putting the reflection in Jesus’ mouth: Judas, do you betray the Son of Man with a kiss? (22:48), and Matthew has turned this reflection back to the general by merely having Jesus ask: Friend, why have you come? (26:50).

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According to the account of Mark, only a group sent by the chief priests, scribes and elders came with the traitor. Matthew reports the same thing, at least in the beginning of Luke, when he (C. 22, 47) speaks of only a mob. But the fourth distinguishes from this group, which Judas had taken from the servants of the Pharisees and the high priests (C. 7, 32), a Roman cohort, which (C. 18, 3. 12) had come under their leader, i.e. the fourth sent this cohort out of his own power onto the battlefield (!) to immediately summon the Jewish and the Roman power against the Lord. A whole cohort! But the fourth knows no human measure, with one pound of nard Mary anoints the feet of her Lord, with a hundred pounds of species the body of Jesus is embalmed! But as easily as the evangelist, the priests could not command the Roman occupation, they had not yet drawn Pilate into their cause anyway – they did it only on the following day. Luke had given the fourth evangelist these warlike thoughts.

Although Luke speaks at first only of a crowd, he has at once, when he wants to list the persons to whom Jesus spoke the words at the moment of his arrest: “How against a robber have you gone out with swords and staves – of which, moreover, Luke had said nothing before, only Mark mentions them before? Since I taught daily with you in the temple, you did not lay a hand on me” – Luke suddenly (C. 22, 52) summoned the chief priests and elders, created a temple army and summoned their generals, so that they also heard that reproach of Jesus. The latter also had to hear him, because their army was busy in the temple.

Luke took offense at the idea that those words were supposed to be addressed to the subordinate, inherently powerless servants – as Mark portrays it, and Matthew follows suit – he saw correctly that the words were actually a reproach against the priests and the true enemies, but he coped poorly by suddenly making the high priests, elders, and generals of the temple army emerge from the ground.

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In this scene, which he had already overcrowded with Jesus’ repeated question, the Fourth [Gospel writer] could not make that accusation, so he omits it and brings it up later in a different form. Annas, the high priest, asked Jesus about his disciples and his teachings during the first trial of the night, and Jesus answered: (John 18:19-20) I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in the synagogue (!) and in the temple, where — we thank you for the archaeological information; the high priest must have received it with gratitude! (—) all the Jews come together, and I have said nothing in secret.

Mark did not pay attention to the inconvenience that Luke tried to remedy by making it even greater. His attention was rather focused on making sure that the readers would not miss the contradiction between Jesus’ public and free appearance and the secret way in which his enemies now took him into their power – and again, just to reassure the reader that what happened at this moment was done according to the divine plan and under the guidance of a higher necessity, he has Jesus add briefly to that reproach: “But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.” (Mark 14:49). Luke elaborated on this reflection and instead of that short reference to the Scriptures he put the words: “but this is your hour and the power of darkness” into the mouth of the Lord. (C. 22, 53.) Matthew transformed what Mark gives as the words of Jesus into his reflection: “All things were done that the scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled” (26, 56). For this, when the brave disciple was to be rebuked, he lets the Lord say before: “how else would the scriptures be fulfilled, that it must come to this? – Jesus had to say before: “Do you think that I cannot ask the Father at this moment and that he would give me more than twelve legions of angels to command me?” so that the reader is completely convinced of his sublimity above the collision and of his free surrender to it (B. 53. 54).

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Now the tapestry then! Mark, who is only interested in a contrast to the free surrender of Jesus, merely says about that brave one: one of those standing there drew his sword, struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear (14, 47). Luke, who no longer sees that this incident is only a foil to Jesus’ opposite behavior, has the Lord heal the wounded man, whose ear was not cut off, but only hit. Matthew, who, like Luke, describes the brave man more closely as one from Jesus’ environment, lets the ear be cut off without salvation, since he “has no time for the healing: Jesus must not only command the brave to put the sword in its place, but also use the opportunity immediately to pronounce the teaching that whoever takes the sword perishes by the sword. And the fourth? He who knows that the brave man was Peter, who knows that the servant of the high priest was called Malchus, who has united the notes of Luke and Matthew to the effect that the ear was the right one, but that it had been cut off without salvation, for he could not spare any time for the healing, because Jesus commands the brave man to sheathe the sword, and with the words of the synoptic usage – and with reference to the omitted report of the battle of souls – must ask: Shall I not drink the cup which the Father has given me?

Previously, says the fourth, Jesus asked the captors to spare the disciples. We must admit that this request was made in a very appropriate place and time, i.e. it was made and inserted by the Fourth, when the moment after, the brave Peter shaved off the right ear of poor Malchus. There can be nothing more inappropriate. But there is also nothing more inappropriate than the way in which the evangelist sees the fulfillment of a word that the Lord spoke on the same evening (in chapter 17, verses 12 and 18:9), the word: “None of those whom you have given me have I lost,” a word that originally referred to spiritual guidance, i.e., in the moment when the evangelist formed it. But the evangelist knows that his sayings are infinitely profound and contain at least a twofold meaning. How touching it is also when in that prayer, a tender glance is given to Judas, the son of perdition: “None of them is lost, but the son of perdition!”

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The natural sequence up to the account of the fourth Gospel makes it almost impossible for us to agree with Wilke‘s assumption that the note about that brave person who drew the sword must be missing in the Gospel of Mark. It is true that Jesus expected only cowardice from the disciples that night, but the behavior of that brave person is only a momentary recklessness, against which the calm and composure of Jesus stands out all the more brilliantly. It is true that the following statement of Jesus, “Have you come out against me with swords and clubs as though I were a robber?” (v. 48) should immediately follow the note that they laid hands on him (v. 46), and it is also only truly fitting if none of the disciples reached for the sword. But if Mark was looking for a contrast elsewhere, could he not have made a mistake in composition once? Is he a real artist? And perhaps he said with good reason, “one of those standing nearby” drew the sword? Without having found a reason for it in the Gospel of Mark, Luke would hardly have formed his story, and Matthew and the fourth would certainly not have excluded the same story.

*) p. 491. 492.

But in this we must agree with Wilke, that after the words “and they all fled,” Mark did not form the story of that young man who followed Jesus with only a linen cloth on his bare skin, and when they seized him, left the cloth in the hands of the captors and fled naked (14:50-52). Everyone had to flee immediately, only Peter had to follow from afar. None of the other evangelists betray that they read this note in the Gospel of Mark, and the “other disciple” who follows Peter from afar in the fourth Gospel is the least likely to have originated in the original Gospel. So the note is certainly a later addition by a reader who wanted to point out that now was the time – as Amos prophesied when he said, “even the strong shall flee naked on that day” (2:16). —

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Only Peter, say the Synoptics, followed him, “and another disciple,” adds the fourth. But where? To the palace of Annas, answers the fourth, where the Roman cohort and the servants of the Jews brought Jesus, and where he underwent a hearing in the night.

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§ 86. The struggle of Jesus’ soul in Gethsemane

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

247

§ 86.

The struggle of Jesus’ soul in Gethsemane.

 

1. The report of the synoptics.


After finishing the meal, Jesus went with the disciples to the Mount of Olives, and when they arrived at the Garden of Gethsemane, he told them to sit and wait while he went a little further to pray. He took only three with him, Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and told them that his soul was deeply grieved, even unto death. He asked them to stay and watch while he prayed, and he fell on his face and prayed to the Father, asking if it was possible to take the cup from him, but added that he would do the Father’s will, not his own. When he returned to the disciples, he found them sleeping, woke them up, rebuked them, and urged them to stay awake. He went away a second time to pray the same prayer, and upon returning, found the disciples sleeping again. He went away a third time to pray, and finally, upon returning and finding the disciples still sleeping, he said to them: — but of these words later!

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Thus, in essence, Matthew and Mark tell the same story in the same words, except that the originality of the latter’s account, apart from a few more appropriate and precise phrases, is revealed first of all in the fact that it says of the second prayer only that Jesus prayed again with the same words as before, while Matthew turns the words of the first prayer to the effect that Jesus now already – why the third prayer? – Jesus had already said, presupposing the impossibility of what he asked for in the depths of his soul (C. 26, 42): if it is not possible, Father, that this cup pass over me, then let your will be done. Then the prayer in Mark is more urgent, the struggle of Jesus is more serious and the condition under which this struggle alone is possible is really pronounced: Father, says Jesus 14: 36, everything is possible for you, take this cup from me. Only narratively and in the indirect manner of speaking Mark had previously determined the content of the prayer to the effect that Jesus had prayed that this hour, if it were possible, would pass him by: Matthew formed the first prayer from this: 26: 39, Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me!

It is unlikely that Matthew changed his account with the intention of softening the matter, but even if it happened against his knowledge and will, he already represents the transition to the position of those who took offense at Jesus’ struggle in the garden. He may have left the account in its positive form simply because it was given that way, but eventually he could have decided to remove it or at least not take it in the serious form that Mark presented it.

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Beside this direction, which has always asserted itself in the church, even among those who did not understand the suffering of Jesus’ soul as a purely personal, but as a vicarious one, but even in the circle of the latter view, another direction asserted itself, which was pleased to consider and to depict the struggle of Jesus’ soul as a rather gruesome, terrible and lacerating one. Luke has already taken this latter direction, although he still largely agrees with Mark’s interpretation that Jesus’ struggle was an inner spiritual struggle, namely the struggle in which he had to decide whether or not to accept the destiny assigned to him.

Luke has so little desire to take up the details of the original report that he does not even tell us where the struggle of Jesus’ soul and the imprisonment took place. He simply states (in chapter 22, verses 39-40) that Jesus went out to the Mount of Olives as was his custom, and “when he arrived at the place” – it is clear that this presupposes a specific location, which is only mentioned in another account – he told the disciples – but Luke does not say that Jesus took only three of the disciples with him, leaving the others behind. He also does not say that Jesus told these three to stay behind while he went further away to pray. Nor does he say that Jesus told the disciples to wait and only later, when he found them sleeping upon his return, urged them to be watchful and pray. Rather, by combining all the details, he presents the matter in such a way that Jesus advised all the disciples to pray from the beginning. Of course, Jesus could not have told them to stay behind, but he also could not have urged them to pray if it happened involuntarily and without his will that he was separated from the disciples and compelled to pray. He was carried away from them about a stone’s throw, thus being forced by external circumstances into the situation in which he felt compelled to pray, and he offered a prayer that was essentially the same as the one reported by Mark.

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The confusion is therefore very great. Just as great at the end of the report.

Having risen from prayer, Jesus goes to the disciples and finds them asleep with grief. But – not to ask whether sorrow should not have kept them awake, as it usually does, not to notice that Mark knows how to explain their sleep quite differently, namely from the weakness of the flesh, which does not always obey the spom of the spirit – why from sorrow? Jesus had not even told them that his soul was deeply grieved, even unto death, and they had no idea what was happening when their master was forcibly taken away from them. Then Jesus says to them, as before, pray! but now – since immediately, while he is still speaking in this way, the betrayer comes with the crowd – the necessary part is missing, that Jesus calls them to endure, because now the betrayer is near – – thus a word, which could not be missing, so that it would be certain, that Jesus had foreseen the destinies of his last hours also up to the point, that the betrayer would come just now. Luke has taken up the points of incidence of the original report by chance and has cancelled the rhythm that brought them about.

But would he really have had the writing of Mark in mind? We have proved it! But is his report, since he only knows about a continuing fight, not about a threefold beginning of it, not significantly different from that of Mark? Is it not something quite different when it is said that an angel appeared and strengthened Jesus, and that the Lord’s struggle was so violent that his sweat became like drops of blood falling from the earth?

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Answer: if Luke wanted to let the angel intervene for the strengthening of Jesus, then he had to let it be with a single, or in one process continuing fight, because he would have been very embarrassed, if he would have wanted to bring the angel also with the condition of a threefold beginning of the fight. If the angel would have intervened immediately at the first approach, the two following approaches would have been incomprehensible and one would have to ask, where the power remained, which the angel had brought from heaven; or if the angel should come only at the third approach, then the question arises, why he did not come earlier, why rather only in the moment, where according to Mark the fight is already decided also without heavenly miracle power. So the angel and One fight, or three times fight and No angel!

However, although Luke chose the first assumption to make the matter more wonderful and transcendent, he cannot deny that he copied a report that shows the struggle unfolding in several stages. After reporting that an angel appeared and strengthened Jesus, he tells us that Jesus prayed with even greater effort, and finally that drops of blood dripped from his forehead. Here are the traces of the triple approach, but now it is also clear that the angel was summoned by Luke at a very inappropriate time, since despite his heavenly encouragement, he could not prevent Jesus’ inner struggle from becoming even more intense and eventually becoming bloody. Not only is the angel unnecessary, but he is also highly disruptive, as his intervention turns the matter in such a way that Jesus no longer decided his struggle with the divine will by his own resolution and dissolved it in complete surrender to his destiny.

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Luke’s account is resolved on all sides. Now another look at Mark!

At first we must be astonished how only the three chosen ones of the remaining disciples are initiated into the secret of the following battle, even if only in a distant way, as if it were a sublime mystery or a pompous spectacle. It may be pompous with this threefold approach, at least it should become pompous; but in what the sublime and great should lie, we would not know how to find, since, on the contrary, we call the martyrs of history great and worthy of our esteem only when they endure their sufferings calmly by virtue of the self-assurance of their principle and their justification, and thus prove that they stood just as much above the external power and force of the principle they fought as they knew how to overcome it spiritually in their higher self-awareness.

What is the use of this threefold approach to the struggle? We would not know, if it should matter, how it is founded in the nature of the thing. If Jesus has already confessed once: not my will, but yours be done, then this confession is not only weakened, but downright annulled, if a second, even a third beginning of the struggle follows, and it is still always only about the same confession. But it is known that everything great and significant in sacred history must happen three times if it is to prove itself great.

The resolution of the original report will be completed if we listen even more closely to the words of Jesus to the disciples. They are to watch while Jesus walks apart! In what way? Afterwards, indeed, but – we must say at once – only afterward, when Jesus finds them asleep on his first return to them, is it said: watch and pray! Why was this not said earlier? Because Mark did not always want to write the same words, because he wanted to increase the number of words, because he believes that every reader of his writing would be reminded by the keyword: watch! of the admonition in Jesus’ speech about the last things (13: 33. 37): watch and pray! But the disciples had not yet read the Gospel.

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What kind of sentence is it finally, when Jesus finds the disciples sleeping for the “second time” and says: “Sleep the rest of the time and rest – as if they had not slept before! – the hour has come – well, then they may and can sleep even less! – The Son of Man will be delivered into the hands of sinners. Arise, let us go! – but in the same breath Jesus had told them to sleep! How do they have time to do so, when the Lord says at the same moment: “Behold, my betrayer draws near!

Mark considered it necessary that the Lord, at the moment when the last battle and the catastrophe broke out, showed factually, seriously, that he went to meet his fate with free will, but the original evangelist could not depict this moment in any other way than that he first put Jesus with his destiny – compare Ps. 39, 10 – into battle and discord, before he showed how the tolerator voluntarily submitted to his fate.

This was the necessary consequence of pragmatism, that Mark had let Jesus prophesy his end already beforehand and in the most definite way. If it was now important that Jesus in the end should once again and quite reliably express his surrender, then he was not only allowed to speak, no longer only to speak and prophesy; he now had to feel, to mourn, to be afraid, to faint, in order to regain his strength through his inner struggle. This was also the necessary consequence of the lack of artistic composition in the Gospels, of the lack of a clear depiction of the historical struggles of their hero, in general of the complete lack of human, great, dignified struggles – we mean: such struggles in which also the opponent is held great and important – that now finally the struggle of Jesus against the opposing powers collapses into such a suffering of the soul. Other historical or epic heroes do not need such a struggle with their weakness, because they have proved themselves until death, if death is their lot, in the struggle with great and important historical powers.

254

We have now to see how the Fourth has reproduced the report of Mark.

2. The report of the fourth.


On the contrary, he did not reproduce it at all for his readers. After the dogmatic lecture, in which he had long since risen above all historical collisions and had given the disciples all possible information about the purpose, success and necessity of his death, as well as about everything that could only somehow be related to this dogmatic
locus, he was not allowed to present his Lord again as hesitating or even as despairing. The Jesus who, in the long speech that he gives to the disciples after the last meal, speaks as if he already saw himself reinstated in the glory that he possessed before the creation of the world, which he had left only for a moment and to which he returns again to send the Paraclete to his own, the Jesus to whom eternity belongs, could not be troubled by the imminent death that paved the way for him to the seat of his glory.

The fourth was not allowed to take up the report of his predecessor, because his Jesus had become another than that of Mark. Probably now, in order to fill the gap, so that the traitor would not appear immediately, as Jesus goes out – for the space that the evangelists use for writing and fill with their notes turns into time for them – perhaps also merely because he always introduces the scenes ponderously and laboriously and has to prove the cleverness of his pragmatism, he has explained very precisely (C. 18, 1. 2), where Jesus went with the disciples after the last meal, where that garden was located – the name of which, however, he is very careful not to mention in the writing of Mark – and how it happened that Judas went there with the band of the henchmen -!! he knew that Jesus often met there with the disciples!! – These are all things which Mark was justly indifferent to, and which are most indifferent to us also, because they explain nothing, for that a certain garden, called Gethsemane, had been a common place of abode, is a novelty which is much too unexpected for us, that it was Jesus’ custom, that it was Jesus’ custom to stay here in the open so long into the night is too improbable, and this clever pragmatism is also useless, because Judas, if he should find Jesus, could and should have found his victim in that well-known illumination of the ideal world, where everything is bright or somnambulistic, even in the greatest darkness. Mark has placed the whole in this illumination.

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But if the fourth once saw that he had to omit the report, then he should have omitted it only completely and not in another form and not nevertheless in such a way that it takes up all essential elements of the same, in another place.

During the last Passover feast some Greeks, who had come because of the feast – thus incongruously enough proselytes, not pure Gentiles are, like the Canaanite woman of Mark, the centurion of Matthew – had become attentive to Jesus. They wished to see him. As if they could not see him daily, hourly, now, instantly, as if it were a closed, mysterious thing, a hidden sanctuary, an Oriental despot hidden in the innermost part of his palace, they turn to Philip; the latter, as if he were not close enough to the person of the prince or was not allowed to come alone and directly to the terrible despot, presents – how vividly! – the matter to Andrew, and only now do they tell it to the Lord. The latter, who considers and uses everything only as an occasion to speak of his person, immediately exclaims: “The hour has come when the Son of Man will be glorified. Verily, verily I say unto you – (the reader of the Gospel adds to himself beforehand the intermediate thought, which however the present listeners should probably have heard, that death is the way to glorification) – the wheat seed, if it does not die in the earth, remains lonely and does not bear fruit. “But what is the meaning of the saying that was originally intended (Mark 8, 35) to call to follow Christ, the saying: “whoever loves his soul will lose it, etc., a saying that the fourth then continues to comment on in his laborious manner: “whoever serves me, etc., etc.?

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Immediately after this, here completely inappropriate, at least not motivated and properly guided saying, Jesus returns to his true subject, his own person, and since he had previously aroused the thought of death, he cries out: now my soul is troubled, as in Mark: my soul is deeply grieved to the point of death; and what shall I say? as he is really tortured by the possible choice between two decisions in Mark; Father, save me from this hour! as in Mark: Father, take this cup from me! But for this reason I have come to this hour! as in Mark: yet not what I will, but what you will! John 12, 20 – 27.

That Jesus, in one breath after those words of resignation, forces the Father to glorify him, cannot surprise us anymore, considering the well-known manner of the fourth: he has taken what is connected but also separated in Mark, the talk of Jesus about his sufferings and the glorification that followed it, directly together, and he has taken a core saying from Jesus’ talk about the duty of his followers to deny themselves and squeezed it between the two pieces of the Primal Gospel that he presses together here, or rather he has taken these three members of the Primal Gospel: Mark 8, 31-38, the disclosure that he must suffer, the admonition to his followers brought about by Peter’s foolishness, and the transfiguration, partly reworked into an abstract, partly roughly excerpted again in individual key words, and threw everything together in a chaos. In this chaos, of course, he could now also throw in all the elements of the original report of the battle of souls without further ado, since there was once talk of death. The matter is clarified. We therefore only briefly note that if the thunder of glorification takes the place of the heavenly voice that was heard after the transfiguration, the same thunder that some thought to be the voice of an angel (John 12:29) must also be the ministry of the angel who, according to Luke’s account, strengthened the Lord in his anguish. It is not worth the effort, however small, to resolve the following report up to the end, where Jesus, although he has withdrawn (C. 12, 36), nevertheless suddenly stands there again and cries out and, since he from now on no longer speaks before the people, recites the sum of his dogmatics *). We return to the Greeks.

*) Just as little it is worth the effort to expose the speeches, which Jesus holds after the last meal, in their lack of content, in their tautologies, inconveniences, to prove the misunderstandings, which help the halting speech, as groundless and to dissolve this whole creation – all turns, which would have to be considered here, we have already dissolved in the criticism of the fourth gospel. Only the dogmatic content as such is to be considered, when the time is to be determined, in which this gospel was written.

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But we can’t find them again! Despite the effort they made to register, they do not appear and Jesus gets lost in reflections, to which they could only give rise in a very remote way or at least only indirectly: but once those reflections are initiated, the poor strangers are forgotten, because the Fourth [Gospel writer] was only interested in putting his Lord in a mood that, according to his presuppositions, he should have kept him away from, and lending him thoughts and words that should have remained foreign to him.

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The Fourth [Gospel writer] brings strangers, Greeks, onto the stage because the Lord had previously connected the necessity of his death with the necessity that he must lead the foreign sheep to the fold of his own. But if this connection had already been portrayed extremely unsuccessfully and the composition completely failed *), then, if it were possible (but everything is possible for the Fourth), the confusion had to become even greater when the Greeks were already standing there in the flesh, the messengers of the pagan world had already personally announced themselves, and the joy should have been even greater. Mark, Luke, and Matthew knew how to welcome such messengers.

*) John 10, 16 – 18. See Critique of the Gospel History of John p. 383 – 388.

In a gospel that never lets us come to our senses, we cannot be surprised when the author of it uses the words that Jesus speaks to the disciples in the garden at the approaching arrival of the betrayer: “Come, let us go! – because he has no place for them afterwards; as if they should not be missing at all; as if they were magic words! – The Lord speaks after the conversations at the end of the last supper **) – and still lets him stand there afterwards and give a long speech, so that we have to think that he has delivered the sayings of three chapters (15. 16. 17.), this extensive Christology and dogmatics – roughly the fourth part of the entire content of the Gospel – between the door and the threshold! —

**) John 14, 31 : εγειρεσθε αγωμεν εντευθεν Mark 14, 42 : εγειρεσθε αγωμεν

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§ 85. The last supper of Jesus

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

216

§ 85.

The last supper of Jesus.


The meal which, according to the fourth evangelist, Jesus enjoyed with the disciples at the end, is not the Passover meal of which the Synoptics speak, but that it is nevertheless said to be the same meal is evident from the fact that the very scene with Judas is said to have taken place at it, of which the Synoptics report as an intermediate incident at that Passover meal.

 

1. The preparations for the Passover meal.

All three synoptics tell us how Jesus made the arrangements for this last supper. Luke has understood the matter in such a way that Jesus took the initiative, that is, he sent Peter and John to make arrangements for the Passover meal, and only when they asked him where he wanted the meal to be prepared did he instruct them, they should only go into the city, where they would meet a man with a water jug, whom they should follow into the house where he would enter, and tell the master of the house that the Master would ask him where the inn was, where he could eat the Passover with his disciples.

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According to Matthew, on the other hand, who thus remained faithful to Mark, the disciples first come to Jesus with their question as to where he would eat the passover, and he then gives them his orders.

This is much simpler and more natural. Therefore, when Jesus gives the disciples the order to prepare the Passover meal without telling them where and how, this means sending them into the wilderness, and this intentionally, in order to make them feel afterwards, in their embarrassment, how splendidly and wonderfully he knows how to provide for all cases in advance. This is affected, pretentious, embarrassing: it is later, intentional exaggeration.

Furthermore: While Mark and Matthew immediately get to the point and both report that Jesus spoke of the traitor and instituted the Lord’s Supper after the beginning of the meal, Luke has prolonged the matter and slowed down its rapid movement by letting the Lord say at the beginning of the meal: “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Luke 22:15). He has thus added a sentimental touch, and in order to make it quite significant, he has already arranged it so that Jesus takes the initiative and sends the disciples off to order the meal from the beginning, i.e. into the blue.

It is very easy to explain why the Fourth does not report anything about these arrangements for the meal and, what is more, about these wonderful arrangements. For he has – with what intention will become apparent in the course of this investigation – changed the chronology. The last supper of Jesus does not take place on the holy evening of the Passover, but on the evening before (C. 13,1). So it was self-evident that he had to omit those events, those wonderful events, which only had meaning and significance when the meal was the Passover meal, when it was the meal where Jesus shared the mystery of the Lord’s Supper with his congregation.

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Yes, in wanting to tell what happened on this last evening between Jesus and the disciples, the fourth only mentions in passing – as if one already knew something about it! – thus most unattachedly, that it happened at a meal. In a very large and rambling sentence he tells (C. 13, 1 – 4) that Jesus got up from this – casually mentioned – meal and washed the feet of the disciples, and he states why Jesus did it – and how many reasons does he give? 1) Jesus knew that at last his hour had come to depart to the Father, 2) Jesus had always loved his own in this world and loved them to the end, 3) he knew that the Father had given everything into his hands, 4) also that he had come from God and was going to God! In short, the evangelist digs out all his dogmatics to give the reason why Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. How? He washed them because he knew that God had given everything into his hands? Nice reason. Because he knew that he had come from God and was going to God? Good reason! The only other reason could be that he loved the disciples. But must one wash the feet of one whom one loves? The evangelist has not understood Luke’s sentimental remark about Jesus: This expression of tenderness was incorporated into the long remark that Jesus always loved the disciples and loved them to the end, and with this remark, which he also embellished with his other dogmatics, he introduced the story of the washing of the feet, i.e. he used Jesus’ remark in Luke as an introduction to something completely foreign. If, because he had such important dogmatic matters on his mind, he could only casually mention that the following took place at a meal, it is clear that he was not allowed to report anything about the miraculous arrangements for the meal itself.

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We now turn back to the Synoptics.

Essentially, apart from the false introduction that Luke gave to his account, it agrees with that of Mark. However, Matthew knows nothing of this miracle; Jesus simply tells the disciples, “Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, ‘The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house'” (Matthew 26:18). They did so and prepared the Passover.

What a report! What an instruction: “Go to a certain man”! Who says, when sending others to someone they don’t know, “Go to a certain man”?

Matthew had – who doesn’t understand this? – Matthew had a report before him in which the unknown person was mysteriously made known to the disciples. But since he does not love detail and does not know how to appreciate it, nor does he know how to compress the omission briefly and skilfully and to hide the gap from the eye, he omits the main thing precisely by abbreviating the report, and therefore does not say how the disciples would find the man they did not know, but calls the man a “certain man”, that is, leaves him completely indefinite and assumes – the contradiction is immeasurable – that the disciples would find the “certain man” as this “certain man” who still remains a “certain man”.

In contrast, the original account (Mark 14:12-16) seems to be a model of clarity, and relatively it is: the two disciples whom Jesus sends, when they ask him where they should prepare the Passover (Matthew carelessly only says “the disciples,” while Luke on his own identifies Peter and John as the two, to give the most respected ones the honor of this wonderful task), these two disciples, Jesus says, would find that homeowner if they followed a water carrier whom they would encounter in the city. However, this clarity is only illusory. Not to mention that in a city like Jerusalem, one must encounter many water carriers – was that homeowner known to the Lord and his disciples beforehand or not? He is an unknown person who, through the message of the disciples – “The Teacher says: Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?” – should be met and offered assistance in a wonderful way. But then Jesus already knew him beforehand as someone who was to be met through a miracle, Jesus knew him as such by virtue of his wonderful insight – so why this wonderful confusion that the disciples should find the man themselves only through a miracle, and even as a result of a miracle that is enormous, as all the water carriers had to be blocked from the streets of Jerusalem except for one single individual?

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The miraculous event of the Passover was to throw upon the Supper itself that light in which it is certainly distinguished from every other Supper – – thus the course of events at the Supper itself, the conversations of Jesus, the institution of the Supper, if they are in themselves great, dignified, and important, were not in themselves sufficient to consecrate the Supper and to distinguish it from every other Supper? No! it is also to be glorified by the very first preparations, and by the manner in which these arrangements were made. But Mark did not succeed in forming this marvellous entrance in such a way that we could pass through it without damaging our heads. We must therefore break it down, tear it down, or rather declare that it has already collapsed because it lacks a reasonable foundation.

It is formed after the manner in which Samuel gives Saul landmarks from which he is to recognise that he has given him kingship by divine authority. Mark has extracted from this Old Testament jumble 1) the intention underlying his report, even if it is not emphasised with reflection, that the God-sent should prove his authority through miraculous distant vision, and 2) the trait that those whom the God-sent meet men who carry the means of life. The water jar is taken from the story of Abraham’s servant who went out to fetch a bride for the son of his Lord. Here, however, in both Old Testament models, these things still – i.e. even in their fairy-tale world – have meaning, support and connection. Here, in the second case, the servant is already at his destination, at the well of the city, the daughters of the city come to draw water, and in the one he wants to recognise the bride, who voluntarily agrees to water his camels, too, if he has previously asked her for a drink of water.  Mark has formed a chimera of miracles, when a miracle leads the disciples to the goal, which must first be conquered again by a miracle.

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Before we can decide on the core of the report and its historical basis, we must first seek it out, that is, to peel away the strange shells that initially conceal it from us or may be mistaken for it.

We begin with the fourth Gospel, which does not even have a part of the core, the so-called institution of the Lord’s Supper, but instead knows how to report on another action that the Lord committed at the last meal, an action that should be repeated by all of his followers in the future.

 

2. The washing of the feet.

John 13, 1 – 17.


Jesus “got up from the meal, took off his clothes, took a towel, girded himself with it, poured water into the washbasin – what a dreadful sight to be taken out of every chamber! – and now begins to wash the disciples’ feet and – really? How graphic! – with the towel with which he had girded himself.

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In that account, Jesus also comes to Peter, who exclaims in surprise: “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” We can still accept that. But when Jesus replies, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand” – and when this “later” occurs, it is not said, it remains in the mysterious, meaningless suspension that the Fourth [Gospel] loves – and when Peter, with exaggerated emotion, vows that Jesus shall never wash his feet, and Jesus responds, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me” – we don’t need to hear any further how Peter, with affected vehemence and moody, not even humorous outburst, demands that Jesus should wash his head and hands, and how Jesus replies that only the feet need to be washed if the washed one is to be completely clean – we don’t even need to hear how the Lord adds: “You are clean, but not all of you,” with a sidelong glance at the traitor, so as not to plunge headlong into the most immense confusion, as the Fourth has already acquainted us with such things, but to turn away from a work of this kind with reluctance. So this foot-washing has so many meanings? So many? And they are all mixed up so haphazardly, and only the capricious whims of Peter provide the thread on which these valiant pearls are strung? Or rather: none of these meanings is – as it deserves to be if it were viable – carried through purely or even identified as such, as something special? The confusion is too senseless. The author has considered all sorts of things and made nothing of them.

First, the washing of the feet is based on the love of Jesus. So be it, inasmuch as love is also condescension, although it is impossible to understand why condescension should prove itself in just this form, why just this ornate form should stand so high, why love and condescension should not prove themselves in other far more dignified and difficult forms of devotion, of thinking into, feeling into, and acting for another person!

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But now the fact that the disciples’ feet are washed is supposed to be the condition without which they cannot partake of the Lord! What kind of connection is supposed to take place here! And the poor, whom Jesus later did not come to wash the feet of! The Lord’s Supper is something else; not only the disciples who enjoyed it on that Passover evening, but all the later members of the congregation enjoy it.

Yes, that the feet of the disciples should be washed is the condition of their purity. At the Lord’s Supper it is something else; there they drink the blood that was shed for the world.

And what is the point here of the spiteful sidelong glance so often cast at the traitor? In the Gospel of Mark it is something else, for according to his Gospel Jesus only once declares during the Passover meal that his betrayer is sitting at the table with him. But here in the Fourth Gospel the betrayer must literally run the gauntlet. Who will always condemn a man’s crime? Even against the criminal one has to fulfil duties of morality and humanity, as Mark knew very well, and the writer has at the same time to fulfil duties which the laws of beauty prescribe for him. That constant sideways glance at the traitor and, what is more, that contrast with the virtuous haste is therefore not only spiteful and inhuman and immoral, but also tiring and repulsive from an aesthetic point of view. Already earlier, after the conversation about the enjoyment of His flesh and blood, Jesus (C. 6, 70) had called Judas the devil among the twelve, later (C. 12, 6) the traitor had to appear as a common thief, and now in the introduction to the account of the washing of the feet (13, 2) the Fourth could not refrain from remarking that the devil had already put his plan into Judas’ heart. If only this virtuous evangelist had learned from Mark how to present evil humanly and aesthetically: Mark had simply told that Judas had gone to the priests and promised to deliver up his master to them – that’s enough! The contrast is strong enough to require even the expression that Luke first used, and from which the Fourth borrowed, in order to apply it more than once. For Luke, in reporting the betrayal of Judas, says that Satan entered into him, C. 22:3. And yet the Fourth would rather have reported that Judas made an agreement with the priests; but for all his talk about the devil Judas, and for all his delight in his inhuman contrasts, he has neither space, nor time, nor even thought left for such trifles.

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Finally, at the end, after having washed the disciples’ feet, Jesus gives a new interpretation of the action, the one that most preoccupies the author and that was probably first in his mind when he described this action, which was so badly introduced. “If he, who is their Lord and Master, has washed their feet, they must also wash each other’s feet. He has given them an example, so that they may follow what he has done. For the servant is not greater than his lord, nor the apostle greater than he that sent him. Also a blessing will be attached to the imitation of the act which expresses mutual submission.”

Yes, with the Lord’s Supper, we exclaim again, it is something quite different. If the new commandment *) of which Jesus speaks after the washing of the feet, as it certainly is, is to refer at the same time to the commandment of this action, then it is, we cry out again and again, something quite different with the new covenant which Jesus gives in his blood.

*) John 13, 34 : εντολήν καινήν. Mark 14, 24 : της καινής διαθήκης.

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“So you must also wash one another’s feet!”

No real person acts or speaks like that. Such abstract and thoughtless demands can only be made – if we may misuse the noble word – in an ideal world, and even then, they can only truly be carried out when this intellectual world has already acquired such a hard solidity and man is so captured by it that he has lost reason and sense for the real world. The inverted world of the Church had to already exist before it was possible for a person like the Fourth to imagine such an adventurous, abstract demand for any reason, and that inverted world had to fully acclimatize people before this demand could be implemented.

The Catholic Church was right to take Christ’s commandment as seriously as it is written, although with the best will in the world, which cannot be denied her, she has not gone far in carrying it out. The senseless nature of this commandment is itself to blame for the fact that its implementation in the Church appears only as a fake article or as a showpiece. If Protestantism has declared that this commandment does not belong in the real world, we do not wrong it, but then it should not make so much of the obedience it has pledged to the holy Scriptures.

 

3. The basis of the account of the washing of the feet.


The occasion which induced the Fourth to form this story just here lies in the Gospel of Luke. Luke reports that during the Passover meal a quarrel arose among the disciples as to which of them was the greatest, and Jesus saw himself compelled to reject them seriously: only in the world do kings rule over others, but it must not be so among them; the greatest among them must rather be the least, the superior of the servants, as he himself proved to be their servant in their midst. (Luke 22, 24-27).

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Luke himself has already gone so far as to describe the present situation where he was waiting for them at the table, handing them bread and wine! – The fourth went even further and, as if Jesus had not sufficiently performed this service during his life and even in death, dared to present his Lord as a servant and as a model of condescending love during the washing of the feet. Mark 10: 45 knew better how Jesus proved that he did not come to be served but to serve, namely by giving his life as salvation for many.

The idea that the Lord had only truly and seriously demonstrated his willingness to serve when he served the disciples as a servant, and especially during a meal, was reinforced for the Fourth Gospel by the parable in Luke of the master who serves his faithful servants at the table *) (Luke 12:35-37), a parable whose point Luke had already made by the time he composed the later saying (Luke 22:27).

*) The Fourth Gospel made much more out of the simplicity of Luke’s (verse 37)!

All of those adventurous claims – that foot-washing is the condition for having a share in Jesus, that the disciples are not clean without it, that it is a new commandment that must be repeated – are explained when we see that the Fourth Gospel has transferred the attributes that Jesus ascribes to the new covenant in his blood to his newly invented sacrament.

The question now, whether it was possible in all the world that the disciples could now come up with this absurd question, when the Lord had just given them his body, which was given for them, and his blood, which was poured out for them, especially now that he “opened” to them that he would be betrayed by one of them (Luke 22, 20 – 25) – – it would be ridiculous to treat this question seriously, since it can be seen with one’s own hands, with the eyes of one’s own body, that Luke did not take note of the quarrelling of the disciples, which he already mentioned above (C. 9, 46) to Mark (C. 9, 33), and as an answer of Jesus to Mark he rewrites the rebuke of the two sons of Zebedee (Mark 10, 35) with their rash request and the disciples who were again indignant about the request of John and Jacob, a rebuke that he had omitted before with its cause.

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But only that rebuke of the ten he gives here quite literally, the rebuke of the two sons of Zebedee he has significantly changed. When Jesus rebukes them in Luke by asking them if they can drink the cup that he drinks (namely the cup of suffering), Jesus presupposes in the rebuke of the foolish disciples in Luke, which he only admits in Mark after the affirmative answer of the Zebedees, as a certain fact: “you have persevered with me in my temptations” (Luke22, 28). But could they then still be so childish and argue about precedence?

Indeed, it seems highly inconsistent that Jesus would dismiss the request of the sons of Zebedee for seats at his right and left hand in a suitable manner, as seen in Mark’s account, only to then suddenly promise in Luke’s account that they would eat and drink with him in his kingdom and sit on thrones to judge the twelve tribes of Israel. It is a striking contradiction, especially coming from people who had just shared in the cup of suffering.

Only because Jesus uses the image of the cup and speaks of drinking in his rebuke of the Zebedees, did Luke feel justified in excluding these sayings from their true context in his account of the Lord’s Supper, because they also speak of the cup and drinking.

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Even more! After Jesus (Mark 14, 22 – 25) had given the disciples the blessed bread and the blessed cup, he said that he would no longer drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when he would drink the new fruit in the kingdom of God. So there is always talk of drinking and the cup: should not a thorough evangelist have collected all the sayings that deal with such things, and especially, in order to prove the unity of the sayings, should he not have included this instruction on future drinking in his rebuke of the jealous disciples?

Of course, he could no longer give those statements the same context as Mark did with the request of the sons of Zebedee for the nearest seats. Rather, the necessity of submission had to be emphasized. Therefore, the context of the disciples arguing about rank in general was more appropriate and relevant. —-

It will do no harm and will not increase the confusion through which we must navigate, since it is only the evangelists who drag us into such confusions, if we remove the following inappropriate element from the account of the Last Supper as we pass by. Suddenly, without any motivation, Jesus says to the disciples (Luke 22:35-38), asking if they lacked anything when he sent them out without a purse, bag or sandals: now things will be different. Whoever has a purse or bag should take it, and whoever has none should sell their cloak and buy a sword. But why this new, striking equipment for people who had previously even come into the world without a purse, bag or sandals? Is it because the prophecy “he was numbered with the transgressors” is now to be fulfilled in him? Are they now supposed to wield swords, now that they have just tasted the new covenant in the blood of the Messiah? By understanding the matter as it should be understood if words have meaning, they say, “Lord, here are two swords!” and he replies, “That is enough.” But now we must again wonder why Jesus, after such a pompous entrance – “sell your cloak and buy swords!” – suddenly finds two swords sufficient.

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Everything falls apart. Luke used Jesus’ instruction concerning the equipment of the messengers of faith, which he exaggerated only with regard to the shoes, to speak of a different equipment in contrast to it, because he wanted to introduce the following, that at the arrest of Jesus one of the disciples cut off the ear of the servant of the high priest, and to motivate the question of the disciples, who on this occasion reminded the Lord of his earlier commandment: Lord, shall we strike with the sword? (Luke 22, 49. 50.) In one word: he committed the imprudence of attributing to a plan what should only happen in sudden haste, and he even goes so far as to let Jesus say to the brave heroes, as before: “It is enough!” – let it be good with that. At least what the bravest one did finds no disapproval. Everything is crooked and wrong!

 

4. The word of Jesus about the traitor.


We are gradually coming to the core of the reports, but will still have to free it from very useless embellishments.

We have already seen how spiteful the sideways glance is that Jesus throws at the traitor after the foot-washing. He says to the disciples (John 13:18), “Not all of you are clean.” He adds, forgetting the rest of the sentence because of his eagerness and many other thoughts in his mind, “I know whom I have chosen.” Then he quickly adds, “But to fulfill the scripture, ‘He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.'”

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Even now, Jesus continues in v. 19, I am telling you before it happens, so that when it happens you will believe that I am Him. So the Lord always has to think of himself, always has to be pushy, always has to be concerned about his person and authority! It would have been better and more humane if he had thought of others for once, had taken the feelings of the disciples into consideration, and had said, for instance: so that you will not be too much shaken by the monstrosity when it happens. But religion! Religion! The fourth has reflected religiously correctly.

“Henceforth,” says Jesus, απ’ αρτι, “he speaketh unto them of the wicked man, and yet he hath already above called him the devil among the twelve (C. 6, 70).

What is immediately supposed to follow this side-glance with the affirmation “truly, truly I say to you” – with an affirmation that gives the appearance of being the finishing touch to that remark about the traitor – is the statement: “He who receives the one I send receives me, and he who receives me receives the one who sent me.” The Fourth Gospel once again offers us an example of the obscurity and mechanical superficiality that its associative ideas are capable of. In that synoptic passage, the relationship to Jesus is considered only as one that is mediated through the relationship to others, the messengers of faith or the little ones. The thoughtless combination that now, even if only an immediate relationship to Jesus is in question, did not even lead the Fourth Gospel to this passage. His combinations are even more mechanical. It is possible that the synoptic lament over the Baptist and the saying that it would be better for him not to have been born – perhaps with the help of the lament over the one who causes offense in Luke 17:1 – led him to the saying about the person for whom it would be better to have a millstone hung around his neck and be cast into the sea, and thus to the saying about the reception of such a person, in whom one receives Jesus himself (Mark 9:42, 37). However, it is more likely that he took the opportunity of the note in Luke 22:24 about the disciples’ argument about rank at the time of the Last Supper to immediately look up the original passage in Luke 9:48 and Mark 9:37 and to rework the saying about receiving a little one in the way that had already been sanctioned for him by Luke 10:16 and Matthew 10:40. —-

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Actually, the Fourth Gospel has Jesus say everything necessary about the traitor, as well as something inappropriate and something that doesn’t belong here. In fact, the Fourth Gospel even makes a pause and a break when it says (v. 21) that Jesus was shaken by this revelation – but no! Immediately, it sets Jesus in motion again to have him say the same thing he just said, even presenting it as something new and unexpected.

Of course! After bringing up the traitor during his metamorphosis of the Last Supper, that is, during the footwashing, the Fourth Gospel must now turn to Mark if he wants to portray the traitor being identified in a way that is prompted by the fact that they are sitting at the table. “Truly I tell you,” Jesus says in Mark 14:18, “one of you will betray me.” Jesus says the same thing in the Fourth Gospel, now that the table scene is being presented (13:21).

Of course – we must now notice further – the other confusion arises from this, that now all at once the banquet begins again from the beginning, whereas before we should have thought it was over when Jesus got up to wash the disciples’ feet. Of course, the Fourth jumps so unconcernedly into the synoptic track that he does not even tell us a word about the fact that the company sat down again quietly at the table after the washing of the feet. He lets Mark see to it that they sit at the table during the following scene.

To thank Mark for saving him so much trouble, he enriches his report with many new discoveries. How beautiful, for example, is the remark in the beginning that the disciples (v. 22) “looked at each other” after Jesus’ opening, “since they – wonderful remark! – they did not know whom he meant. “How interesting is the note about the curious Peter, who beckons to the disciple with his eyes that he should ask the Master who it is. Ha! As if every reader did not know – for that is all that matters in this world – who it was; as if it were not enough if the Lord only showed that he knew the traitor, and if he spoke of the blackness of the deed!

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The contrast is terrible, that the beloved disciple nestles against the Lord’s breast just to learn more about the devil. The beloved disciple nestles against Jesus’ breast just to ask about the rejected one! At the breast of Jesus! Yes, if he had hugged the Lord in pain, smothered him with kisses, to show him that he still had faithful followers! No, at the breast of his Lord and Master, he knows nothing else to do but to satisfy his curiosity. What kind of people!en!

The following contrast, that Jesus says to his favourite disciple: it is he to whom I shall give the morsel which I am about to dip, not only carries to extremes the disgustingly secret and hidden character of this whole situation, but is even completely useless in so far as the Evangelist completely forgets Peter and lets him, like the others, find out about the matter – for so we may express ourselves according to the interest which these creatures of the Fourth have – only afterwards, but soon thereafter in the Garden of Gethsemane. Admittedly, however, that police signal was only intended to blatantly secure the statement that Jesus was not mistaken about the person of his traitor

Because if he did not do it – perhaps even to make this theatrical coup that the devil entered the betrayer’s body with that bite – then when he now says, “The evil one went away,” when it is now night, and Jesus immediately goes into the Garden of Gethsemane, we do not understand how Judas could have quickly gathered the priesthood, brought them to a decision late in the evening, and sent a cohort of soldiers and the priests’ servants to that garden. The confusion is as wild as possible, and in its tumult, we will let Jesus’ words to the betrayer, “What you are about to do, do quickly!” (v. 27) fade away. Because it does not deserve more. It is disgusting enough to be destined to paint calm spiritual calmness, but it only shows an irritated mood and forms a resentful and at the same time splayed-out challenge.

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However, no one knows who the betrayer is, no one knows what these last words of Jesus mean. The beloved disciple is enthroned above all the others as omniscient and tickles himself over his omniscience, while the others grope in the dark. To them, Judas is still simply the treasurer – a dignity from which we have finally freed him! So when they – how curious! – speculate back and forth whether Jesus may have given him orders to make purchases for the feast or to give alms, we hear from these conjectures of the curious children nothing more than the disguised voice of the Fourth, who wants to remind us once again under this mask that this last meal of Jesus was not the Passover evening meal. Tomorrow is the Passover evening.

Now the Synoptics! Matthew as well as Mark let it be the first thing immediately after the beginning of the meal that Jesus speaks of the betrayer – rightly so! for this contrast, that the hand of the betrayer is over the table, must be settled as soon as possible, so that afterwards the banquet proceeds without disturbing thoughts. Luke only brings up the betrayer after the distribution of the blessed bread and cup (Luke 22:21), but why did he also let an intruder and outsider take the entrance, i.e. the only suitable place, with that sentimental remark (v. 15)?

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Matthew presents the matter in such a way that Jesus initially says indeterminately, “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples become sad and ask, “Is it I?” But we do not understand how they can still ask such a question. For Jesus had said two days before that he would be crucified at the Passover feast (chapter 26, verse 2), so now, with the festival approaching, the innocent ones could no longer ask so uncertainly. The betrayer must have already been decided and – taken steps.

Jesus answers: he who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me – we should think: just now – will betray me – a designation that is as indefinite as it is useless. Which guest will pay attention to which of the thirteen sitting at the table dips into the bowl; and do all see this movement, a movement even, which, as soon as it is noticed, is forgotten again? And if the mark, which is supposed to look so definite and clear, were really so infallible, could Judas still ask afterwards: is it I Master? (v. 25) so that Jesus would have to say to him again publicly in front of the others: you said it?

However, if this had really exposed the betrayer, it would have been embarrassing and unbearable.

However, Judas’ question, “Is it I?” is not only incomprehensible if that sign – as it is supposed to be – was clear and accurate, but it is also inappropriate in terms of the context, given that Jesus had just said, “Woe to the man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for him if he had not been born!” After such a statement, would Judas still have dared to ask that question? Historically impossible and aesthetically repugnant!

In the account of Mark, which Luke has only drawn together, we find everything in order. First Jesus says: truly I say to you, one of you will betray me *), and then when the disciples ask: is it I? – but they are allowed to ask this here, since Jesus had not said anything before that he would be crucified on Passover – he replies: yes, it is one of the twelve, one who dips into the bowl with me. This is not a police signal, but the intensifying repetition of the terrible fact that it really is one of the twelve – an expression of pain borrowed from the lament of the righteous Ps. 41, 10, that his neighbour, his house- his table- comrade is persecuting him. Only Matthew made his police signal from it, which the Fourth has made even more specific.

*) The addition: “who eats with me” ο εσθιων μετ εμου Mark 14, 18 is of course, as Wilke p. 274 remarks, from a late hand. The Psalm passage Ps. 41, 10 ὁ ἐσθίων ἄρτους μου Mark first worked into Jesus’ answer v. 20: εμβαπτομενος μετ εμου εις το τρυβλιον. The later glossator did not notice in what the progress in the two sayings of Jesus lay.

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In this, too, Mark has shown a wise skill, that he holds back the matter in general and with the contrasts that Matthew and the Fourth painted so glaringly: the traitor does not appear with an insolent brow, he is not mentioned at all.

The whole scene arose from that Psalm word. In order for the Lord to become like the righteous man of that psalm, he had to be betrayed by his closest comrade; in order for the blackness of the betrayal to be heightened by the contrast, the Lord had to complain about it at the love feast, and he had to signal the betrayal in general, so that it would not seem as if, contrary to his suspicions, he were surprised by it afterwards.

 

5. The attitude of the betrayer.


As soon as one raises the question why Judas betrayed his Lord, and raises it in the sense that he is not satisfied with the statements of Scripture, and supposes other motives by which the betrayal can really be explained, he is very unbelieving.

Is it not enough that Luke says that Satan entered Judas, or is it not explanation enough when the Fourth defines this note in more detail, that the entry of Satan happened at the moment when Judas swallowed that morsel?

Furthermore: when Mark reports (C. 14, 11) that the chief priests, out of joy over the unexpected request of Judas, promised him money and that he now sought opportunity to betray his Lord, when Luke then (C. 22, 6) reports in more detail that Judas accepted the offer of money and agreed to the proposal, when finally Matthew presents the matter in such a way that Judas immediately goes before the priests with the question: what will you pay me to deliver him into your hands and agrees to their proposal that they want to give him thirty pieces of silver? of the betrayal become viciously clear? And one still ponders over motives? O hypocrites!

We did not want to remember the ridiculous unbelief of the theologians in any of these passages. We shall also remain true to our resolution, and here, in a passage which is based on a specifically religious view, we shall only remember the view of a philosopher who has made this very religious view his own, albeit in a somewhat modernised form.

Religion only achieves its fulfillment when it dissolves all determination and finds its true element in an indeterminate rushing. If Christianity was already the fulfillment of religion, as it killed the moral and vital interests of other religions, it still increases in perfection when even the small determination that it still possesses is dissolved.

Therefore, the discussion of the matter will not lead us anywhere if we forget the devil and the thirty pieces of silver. For the critic, for humanity, there is no longer a devil who leads his chimerical life over the ruins of humanity and governs over these ruins at will, especially not a devil who enters the mouth of a person with a bite of bread. The bestial and shameless question of Judas, “What will you give me?” and the offer of the priests to give thirty pieces of silver, no longer impress us, because both, and especially the former, which is very bad, were copied by Matthew from Zechariah. In the scripture of the prophet, the shepherd of the people demands his reward and is given, as a mockery, thirty pieces of silver. *) Mark was smart enough to see that the sum, which in the Old Testament was a contemptible mockery, could not have tempted Judas to his actions. He borrowed only the notation from the prophet that the Messiah could be sold for money if he was to prove himself as the promised one.

*) Zacharias 11, 12: δότε τον μισθόν μου- και έστησαν τον μισθών τριάκοντα αργυρούς , Matth. 26, 15. 16: τι θέλετε μοι δούναι και έστησαν αυτώ τριάκοντα αργύρια.

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It even does no harm that we have now dissolved the whole report; all the better for religious consciousness, which feels better nowhere than in a vacuum. Now that the levers of money and the devil have been broken, Weisse can say all the more freely that the motive of the betrayal was a thoroughly evil one **). But no matter how much this view, which Weisse does not even do this time, may be embellished, i.e., no matter how novelistically the intense effort of the ego, which belongs to such a decisive opposition to what is absolutely good, may be painted: – it is still in vain, because the thought that there could be “an absolutely malignant character, an absolutely malignant motive” is just as chimerical and hollow as the thought of an absolutely good character and motive. But this chimera is specifically religious, but only because it is a chimera: in reality this vacuous and uneducated opposition of understanding has no validity, no life, no existence and instead of this, the selfish and the general interests of human life interpenetrate in all characters, motives, and actions. There is no absolutely good man who would be nothing and further nothing but a little lamb, as little as something purely evil, i.e., for instance, an action in which the ego as a purely special – filled with no other interest – ego revolts against the general as such – as if there were a pure, abstract general! – rebelled. Only religion knows these bottomless contradictions. Even in the extreme – romantically inflated – case that an individual rebels against another purely and solely because the latter is good, this is only appearance; the rebellion is not directed against the good as such, but against the fact that this individual happens to be good or is supposed to be good or claims to be good or purely and simply good. Rather, the one who only wants to be a little lamb insults the dignity of humanity, and whoever wants to be simply and purely good mocks the specific moral obligations.

**) I, 451

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The question as to how it came about that Jesus accepted a “thoroughly malignant” character among the Twelve, and that Judas joined the Lord, we answer by deleting it, for we no longer know the absurdity of a thoroughly malignant being, and the conception of this circle of disciples known to us in the Gospels has long since dissolved.

But perhaps it is worth the effort to see how Weisse has perfected the religious answer to this question *).

*) I, 395 – 397.

“He says there is a moral relationship between good and evil individuals.” But are the evil still simply evil if they are capable of a moral relationship, even if it is only in the form of tension? “There may also be a moral duty or obligation of the good towards the evil. Jesus did not deceive himself about the character of Judas at the beginning. However, he did not reject the man, because otherwise discord could have been aroused among his disciples and followers, and because he would then have had to forego the support of Judas.” — Nothing but meticulous cleverness on the part of the purely good and nothing less than a moral relationship! But! “Jesus included Judas among his own as a testimony and example of the divine work and as a memorial to that world destiny which happened during this earthly existence – – what a pity! – – does not lead to a sharp external separation between good and evil” etc. etc. — still not a moral, not even an inner relationship, but the opposite, when a person is mechanically used as a “monument”, and as a monument to a chimera at that! Certainly, good and evil are mixed in this world, but not so that pure saints and anointed ones and pure evil, pure sheep and pure goats are mixed together, but rather so that both powers of the antithesis rest and struggle together in every human soul, and so that evil is only a moment in the development of good itself. Finally, when Weiße says that the mind of the evil is no less susceptible to the spiritual power of great personalities than the mind of the good, and when he now adds, according to his theological assumptions, that such a power exerted the personality of Christ on Judas, we grant him the latter application and its historical presupposition, and in relation to the intention we only ask: why all the fuss beforehand?

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6. The institution of the Lord’s Supper.


The critic has no more material interest which could make him biased, if it depends on explaining the mottoes with which Jesus hands over to his disciple the blessed bread and the blessed wine at the Passover meal, appropriately and correctly in their sense.

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In Mark and Matthew these words agree completely, i.e. Matthew, because he knew the importance of them and because he rightly believed to have to give them in the authentic form, has copied the report of Mark verbatim – and who will not copy a testament exactly? According to him, as well as Mark, the Lord, as he distributed the bread, said, “Take and eat, this is my body,” and as he handed the cup, “Drink all of it, for (Matthew could not resist changing this; when Mark reports that the disciples drank from the offered cup, he gave this fact in the form of a command and made the transition to the interpretation of the miraculous wine with “for,” while Jesus according to Mark only says what follows further in Matthew: –) “This is my blood, the blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many” — as Matthew adds, but which is not added by Mark, who rightly aimed for brevity and simplicity of the formula: “for the forgiveness of sins.”

The critic must not allow himself to be impressed by the fact that a religious conception is difficult, hard to carry out, mystical, mysterious or excessively transcendent, or that it violates all perception and sensual certainty too much. Rather, he knows that no contradiction is too great for the religious view, none is nearly great enough, and his task is not to mitigate those contradictions, or to make them plausible to the mind, or to stifle them by force, but to understand them as contradictions and to explain their origin.

By offering the disciples bread and wine, Jesus does not instruct them on how they could remotely relate these foods to his body and blood, nor does he say that even the components of the Passover meal remind him of his sufferings – in this case he should rather have thought of the Passover lamb. Rather, by handing bread and wine to his people and asking them to enjoy them, he tells them what both are to be for the enjoyment and in such a way that the request to eat and drink refers in one moment to the sensual substrates and to what they actually are, to the body and his blood.

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Therefore, it is clear that Jesus did not speak these words. A person who sits bodily and individually cannot come up with the idea of offering his body and blood for others to consume. It is impossible for him to demand that others have a certain understanding while he sits bodily, that they consume him in the bread and wine. It was only later, after his bodily, individual appearance was removed, and even then, only after the community had already existed for some time, that the belief could arise that found expression in that formula.

The anachronism and contradiction that arises from the fact that these words are attributed to the Lord becomes starkly evident when it is said, “This is the blood that is shed for many *).” This could not have been offered by Jesus before his death because blood becomes true sacrificial blood only after it is shed. Before it is sacrificed, before it is shed and served as a sacrifice, it is not sacrificial blood and cannot be referred to or consumed as such, meaning Jesus could not have offered the blood that was shed for many before his death.

*) Mark 14:24 το περι πολλων εκχυνομενον. Compare Luke 11:50 το εκχυνομενον απο καταβολης κοσμου.

Moving on to Luke, we find that the remark made by Jesus, which is placed at the end in Mark, namely, that he will no longer drink of the fruit of the vine, is not placed there at the end by Luke because he had too many other things to report, such as the word about the traitor and the story of the dispute over rank among the disciples. He used it as a sentimental introduction and doubled it by having Jesus say the same thing twice, first in reference to the Passover meal — “I will not eat it again until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God”!! — and then in reference to the cup, which Jesus blessed and handed to the disciples for distribution. However, since he also read elsewhere that Jesus distributed the wine only after the distribution of bread and called it his blood, he could not make this explanation at that first wine distribution. He had to come back to the matter after that inappropriate introduction: Jesus distributed the bread, and then “after the meal” he handed the cup, which he called the new covenant in his blood. (22, 14-20.)

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Luke has Jesus say, “This is my body, which is given for you,” as he hands the bread to the disciples, a statement that corresponds to the other statement, “which is poured out for you.” Then, when it is said of the cup, “This cup — the verb is missing — is the new covenant in my blood,” it is not so different from the formula in the earlier gospel that it is worth discussing, but it is more important when the explanation is added: “Do this in remembrance of me.”

Instead of asking whether this addition explicitly requires a figurative interpretation of that formula, we must rather note that, in connection with the preceding words, “This is my body!” it has no meaning, and therefore it cannot truly influence its interpretation. However, it has no meaning in itself and only gains any sense at all if we relate it back to the presupposition that underlies it.

“Do this in remembrance of me!” But what? Celebrate the Passover annually in his memory? It is not said!

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The bread and wine of the Passover and in both his body and blood to partake in remembrance of him? But when? How often? Is wine and bread the main thing at the Passover? The bread perhaps as the unleavened one is important, but – if the words were really spoken at a Passover meal – where is the lamb? About all of this, nothing is said. Nothing is said at all. Rather, it is spoken in such a way that the assumption of the celebration, the assumption of all that they usually enjoy in this meal, is already established, so spoken in such a way that the celebration of the Lord’s Supper is already assumed, and under this assumption those words should only command them to use this celebration as a remembrance of the Lord. But even this assumption is not even explicitly stated, because Luke is not copying the whole passage from a letter of Paul that he has in front of him now, but only borrows the key points that are important to him at this moment. *)

*) That Paul lets the Lord say: this is my body, which is broken for you (χλωμενον) I Cor. 11, 2i. we would not mention, if it were not important for the criticism of Luke’s account. For when the latter writes: which is given for you, the anachronism of the words: which is shed for you, seems to be avoided. But the matter would still remain in its confusion, if at one time the sacrifice is described as imminent, at another time as past and offered. Yes, the confusion would even be brought about most unnecessarily, since Luke, when he (v. 20) copies Paul’s words: “this cup is the new covenant in my blood” (I Cor. 11, 25), not only omits the tense word, but also borrows from Mark the addition: “which is poured out for you”, thus giving a sentence that is without any context and lacks any sense of structure. Only in the explanation of the bread Paul used a participle: “this is my body which is broken for you”, the explanation of the cup he gives with the words: this “is the new covenant in my blood”. Now Luke arrived at his participle of the present tense, “which is given for you,” only by substituting for the expression Paul used (which is broken for you) another that could not have been more inappropriately chosen in this context, within this construction, within the presupposition that dominates this passage.  The anachronism, which could not be misunderstood in the account of Mark, has also received its pure expression in the words of Paul; for is not the expression: which is broken, formed only after the late custom of the breaking of bread and at that time, when the celebration of the Lord’s Supper at all was briefly called the breaking of bread? And don’t those words speak of the Christian to whom the breaking of bread was a prevailing custom, present to him? And is not the same in the words: “the new covenant in my blood” the covenant, the very covenant consecrated by the sacrificial death of Zesu, is already presupposed as made?

According to Paul, Luke notes that Jesus distributed the cup after the meal. However, this pragmatic remark in Paul’s account is not very satisfying as it separates the distribution of the bread and the presentation of the cup, rather than connecting them. It is even more inappropriate in a historical work where, later, when Jesus says (Luke 22:21) “The hand of him who is betraying me is with me on the table,” it is assumed that the meal has not yet ended.  While Wilke has argued that the second cup distribution in verse 20 is a later insertion, Luke is responsible for this confusion. As we have already explained, the confusion arose from the lack of a clear and complete account of the Last Supper in the earlier sources. Therefore, the second cup distribution in verse 20 is essential and cannot be omitted. Luke would not have neglected to include it.

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In the words that Paul puts in the mouth of his master and teacher, however, the same contradiction is contained, but it is not as glaring as in the writing of Luke, because it is more developed and not so much compressed into one point. When Jesus distributes the bread and declares it to be his body, he says, “Do this in remembrance of me” (1 Cor 11:24), but later, when he distributes the cup, he says more specifically in verse 25, “Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” It is certainly better, but the contradiction remains, as the new instruction that the disciples should repeat this action was not commanded or explained beforehand, nor was anything said about the manner of repetition. In short, these words were only formed under the assumption of an already existing practice, an assumption that was so familiar to Paul that he did not notice the anachronism.

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In any case, Paul is not inclined towards a figurative interpretation of the words of institution. He simply wants to remind his believers that they should celebrate and partake in the holy meal in the proper manner: “For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord’s death till he come,” the apostle immediately adds as an explanation of those words, in verse 26. “But this bread is the body of Jesus, and remains so,” because whoever, in verse 27, partakes of this bread or cup of the Lord unworthily, has committed a sin against the body of the Lord and eats and drinks judgment upon himself, as he does not handle the body of the Lord  (μη διακρινων) discreetly.

We hear nothing in the first history of the community about a usage of the formula during the celebration of the Lord’s Supper. Paul, least of all, thinks of citing his own usage at this moment as one that was in use among the community. On the contrary, he has just formed it according to the assumptions of the community. But he did not form it successfully, insofar as he wove an exhortation and reflection into it that refers to later usage and even presupposes it as already existing.

Mark gave the formula that brevity and simplicity which it must have in a work of history *), Lukas has taken away the strength and conciseness of the lapidary style which the first gospel writer had given to the formula by adding the appendix that he took from the edifying treatise of the apostle Paul. But the fourth gospel writer went infinitely further: he had the Lord give a sermon on the consumption of his flesh and blood, just as he had already identified him as the one who could provide the true miraculous wine. Both times when Jesus demonstrated himself as the wine and bread provider, the Passover was near; this supply was intended to be in an inner relationship to the last Passover supply, which the fourth gospel writer only did not explicitly mention because he knew that it was already known to everyone at his time, and because he thought that he would only give it true consecration when he had the Master prophesy it, typify it, and speculate on it. For a similar reason, when he departs from his disciples, Jesus cannot just institute the baptism at that moment; no! He must already speculate about their necessity in conversation with Nicodemus, and he must already baptize himself, even if only through his disciples.

*) The form he has taken from Exod. 24, 8: λαβὼν δὲ Μωυσῆς τὸ αἷμα κατεσκέδασε τοῦ λαοῦ καὶ εἶπεν- ἰδοὺ τὸ αἷμα τῆς διαθήκης, ἧς διέθετο . . . 

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That the thought from which the account of the wedding at Cana arose is not carried out purely by the Fourth, that strange tendencies again cross the account, can no longer surprise us: the lack of plastic force has now clearly revealed itself to us in all sections of the Fourth Gospel. Even the miraculous feeding of the people has to be put in a skewed, unfavorable light in the following discussion about the bread of life.

Now it is also time to notice that the blessing and thanksgiving that Jesus pronounces over bread and wine, here in the Gospels, where the celebration of the Lord’s Supper is already presupposed as existing, is no longer to be understood in the sense of the Jewish passover rite, but rather as that blessing with which one in the community initiated this celebration in order to distinguish this wine and bread from any other.

The question whether Judas, the Berean, also took part in this meal and ate the judgment, is now finally answered.

Nothing is left to us as historical. Jesus did not institute this meal. It is a gradual transformation of the Jewish celebration of the Passover meal that arose in the community. The idea of the atonement and covenant sacrifice that is already inherent in the Passover sacrifice had to become increasingly important to the Christian consciousness as it developed in opposition to the Jewish one, until it finally became simply the prototype of the true sacrifice, gaining significance only as this prototype, and finally the conviction took hold that in the bread and wine – the lamb as an organic food item receded into the background – one no longer had to do with only the shadow of the future, but actually consumed the true sacrifice itself, his flesh and his blood.

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Earlier, in our criticism of the fourth Gospel, we were satisfied with the observation that it would have contradicted the infinity of Jesus’ self-consciousness if he had wanted to establish a positive statute himself. Now, however, we must finally take away the transcendental character of this turn of phrase, which still presupposes and presents the principle as an empirical person. We must now express ourselves in such a way that the principle could not immediately create positive statutes such as the celebration of the Lord’s Supper in the Christian sense at the beginning; before it gained the strength to do so, it had to develop itself and especially develop within the forms of Jewish life in order to gradually break them up and draw a new growth from the core in the new world.

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§ 84. The anointing of Jesus in Bethany

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

190

§ 84.

The anointing of Jesus in Bethany.

1. The report of John.

C. 12, 1-8.


Six days before the Passover, after the priests had decided on his death and he himself had eluded their persecution for some time, Jesus came to Bethany.

Every reader will now know the relationship of Jesus to this place: why does the evangelist mention this place: “where Lazarus, the one who had died and whom he had raised from the dead, was”? This miracle chat was reported just now: why this laboriously elaborated, this anxiously turned note? We see from this nothing more than that the author first laboriously works into the situations, not to say that he only laboriously works them out at the moment of writing and cannot yet put the individual features into their correct harmony, or not to say that he uses a report which simply names Bethany, and that he now extremely anxiously blacks out the relation to Lazarus in this report.

V. 2 says vaguely: “A banquet was held there in his honor. But if it goes on to say: “Martha was waiting”, it seems that the banquet was organized by her, and therefore also by Lazarus, i.e. in the house of this family. Nevertheless, it says again vaguely: ,, Lazarus was one of those who were at table with him. ” So Lazarus is one of the guests – that is clear if one still gives language permission to be language – Jesus is in the house of a stranger and yet Martha is waiting!

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Mary takes a pound of precious ointment, anoints the feet of Jesus and dries them with her hair. What does that mean? Does one wipe off the ointment with which one has rubbed the limbs of another on the spot? And now even with the hair? This touching trait of extreme self-denial, of heroic devotion, how does it come here? Is it motivated? No!

A new example of how clumsily and fearfully the author introduces the situations! One of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, the son of Simeon, who was to betray him,” says v. 4. “But do the readers not know Judas? Do they not already know from C. 6, 71 that Judas was this very future betrayer? The author has again very anxiously imposed this note on a foreign report.

Judas now remarks whether this ointment could not be sold for three hundred denarii and the proceeds given to the poor. At the same time, the author gives the note, which has given rise to the most important and interesting remarks, treatises, thoughts, characteristics and a thousand useful things for the theologians, that Judas did not think of the poor, but was a thief, for he carried – a new instructive note, which in turn gave rise to many wonderful remarks – the common treasury of the followers. Thousands of essays, treatises, comments and books have also been written about how Jesus, with his omniscience, could have entrusted the treasury to Judas and thus tempted him. We will immediately relieve the theologians of the trouble of continuing to rack their brains over this highly important matter, and we will give the sensible ones a fully valid dispensation that will legally absolve them from the obligation to study this theological-criminalistic literature.

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“Let her,” replies Jesus, “she has saved the ointment for the day of my burial. “But is it now, as Jesus sits at table, “the day of his burial”? The symbolism of the action, the bold anticipation inherent in Mary’s action, is not clearly expressed!

And how true it is that only after Mary’s action has been interpreted does it continue with “for” – namely, with reference to the words “let her! “- it continues: “for you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me! It is not true at all!

Finally, if the evangelist knows that Judas made this objection for selfish reasons, and not for the sake of the poor, he will also trust his Lord, the heart’s rescuer, to have known of Judas’ motive. But does Jesus in the least acknowledge this in his reply? Are these words intended to reject such a wicked hypocrite and egoist? Is this a dismissal of the shameful egoist, when he is confidently referred to the future, in which he would still have time to show his well-meaning disposition to the poor? Is not this speech comforting, and spoken with a good faith in the sincerity of the objection, or at least in such a way that it is thought possible that the man who expressed that misgiving would and could then take care of the poor? In short, the speech does not fit the premises of the report, i.e. it has come to the author from outside and, apart from that unfortunate mistake, he has only placed it so inappropriately because he has brought a feature into the narrative from his own resources which was alien to the original whole. After introducing the contrast between the pious liberality of the woman and the devilish Judas, he kept the speech of Jesus, which belonged to a different context, essentially unchanged.

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2. The report of Matthew.

C. 26, 6-13.


Matthew and Mark also place the account of the anointing in Bethany immediately after the note that the priesthood had decided on the death of Jesus, but indicate that the event took place – not six, but at the earliest – two days before the feast.

According to both, however, the scene also took place in Bethany, but in the house of a certain Simon, who was called the leper. Both do not mention the name of the anointing woman, although if they had known it, they would have told us, since Jesus, according to their account, closes the defence of the woman with the words: Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in her memory. “

In some points, however, Matthew differs from Mark. He says: the woman “came to him”, but we do not know what should have been said, whether she was already in the house before. Afterwards it is assumed (v. 7) that Jesus was at the table, but it was not stated that he was given a banquet. Now listen to Mark! He first gives the situation that Jesus was at the table, and then he says: “there came a woman with a little bottle of balm. “

Furthermore, according to Matthew, it is the disciples who became indignant about this waste of the precious balm and remarked that the proceeds of the sale could be distributed to the poor. It is incomprehensible how all the disciples suddenly had the same feeling, how they all fell for the same thought, how they could be so envious of their Lord and master, especially since they could not otherwise prove that they were capable of such an attitude towards him. In Jesus’ answer, however, there is no hint at all that he turns against his disciples and has to defend the love of that woman against them. If the disciples had acted so conspicuously against him, Jesus would have had to take this peculiar incident into consideration. The speech therefore originally had a different purpose.

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It is also inappropriate and inexplicable that Jesus says: that she poured this ointment on my body, she did it to bury me. But how? Can there be talk of a real burial now? Matthew has made a mistake, has exaggerated clumsily.

So we would arrive happily at Mark.

 

3. The report of Mark.

C. 14, 3 – 9.


Everything is in harmony in his report, everything has its measure; situation, action, speech, everything is in the right harmony.

It was not Judas who took offense, it was not the disciples, but “some” of those present, who are to be thought of as those who were not in such close relationship to Jesus as the disciples.

The speech is complete in itself. Jesus does not attack the opponents. The situation has something mild, wistful, soft, since it is supposed to be the pre-celebration of the death and burial of Jesus. Jesus does not speak in sharp irony, but very mildly he says, “you always have the poor with you and, if you want – Matthew has not copied this mild, but for the character of the speech significant addition – you can do them good.

The construction of the speech is also correct. “Let them! What do you do to her complaint! She has done a good work on me! (Here, therefore, her work is not yet completely interpreted, the attention to it is not yet exclusively focused, so it can be continued with respect to the “Let her!”:) for you always have the poor with you, (Matthew has also already destroyed the rhythm, when he does not copy “let her” and also cincludes the words: “she has done a good work for me” with a “because”, so that two sentences one after the other begin with “because”,) but not me. “

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Finally, Jesus says in Mark (when he now speaks directly about the woman’s act to interpret it): “She has done what she could (very beautiful, but omitted by Matthew), she has anointed my body beforehand for burial.”

Even if unconsciously to her, but following the divine impulse of love – that is what the words are supposed to mean – the woman has done the honor to my body for the event, which will now soon – (in two days) – occur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The meaning of these words becomes even clearer and more important when we remember that according to the writing of Mark the body of Jesus could not be anointed and embalmed, because it was too late on the day of the crucifixion and burial and the women, who C. 16, 1 went to the tomb of Jesus after the Sabbath with the specimens to embalm him, found the tomb empty and received the message from the angel that their Lord had risen. Matthew does not emphasize this circumstance, does not attribute this note to Mark, because he did not notice the inner connection of it with the story of the anointing in Bethany, because he had no eye for this kind of connection in the writing of his predecessor. And now the fourth? He was even more mistaken, he violated the story of the anointing – besides the other violations – even more, when he reports from his own hand that Joseph and the comrade whom he gave to Joseph, Nicodemus, embalmed the body of Jesus when they buried him.

Both Matthew and the Fourth copied their account from Mark. But how then are the differences to be explained, by which all these reports differ significantly from one another?

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The matter of Matthew we can briefly settle. Where he differs from Mark, it is either his carelessness in the pure business of writing, or the fact that he had no feeling for some seemingly minor trifles, which is to be given as the reason for the difference. The most striking circumstance, that he lets the disciples appear against the woman, is to be explained purely and solely from the clumsiness, which sometimes tempts him to give a definiteness to the representation, where Mark very correctly and appropriately leaves the matter undefined. (Cf. C. 9, 14. Mark 2, 18).

But John?

 

4. The origin of the Johannine account.


The dear man of the heart has just copied!

From Mark he has the designation of the ointment as πιστικης – about the meaning of this word the theologians may still argue in the future – but from the treasure of his own sublime imagination he has taken it that the woman – think! – took a pound of ointment to anoint the Lord’s feet. In the end, we would have to explain it from this profusion that Mary was frightened when, instead of anointing the feet of Jesus, she did it in a troublesome way – we do not want to say what – and that therefore she reached for her hair *).

He wrote Mark’s calculation of the value of the ointment, but he wrote it badly, because Mark lets people say that one could pay “more” than three hundred denarii for the ointment if one sold it, he writes very clumsily that one could sell the ointment for three hundred denarii.

*) How do you like this explanation? Is it worse than that of de Wette, who explains the striking circumstance that Mary anointed the feet, not the head, thus: (I, I, 215) “probably Mary could approach the feet rather than the head. And to pour a whole pound of ointment on the head at once would have been unseemly”? I wish that the theologians would at least stop scolding the rabbis. These were worthy, clear philosophers compared to these people who make such profound reflections on a pound of ointment (font tant de bruit).

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He omitted the word about the woman’s eternal remembrance because he had already given her a name (Mary) and then brought a new interest into the narrative, which he esteemed, to make the final focus fall once again on the woman or rest on her. He brought the contrast between the woman’s loving effort and the selfishness of the betrayer into the narrative, although not properly or even completely: as soon as the betrayer is dismissed in necessity, the account must come to an end.

But where does Judas come from? First of all from the Fourth’s love of terrible contrasts! Here he wanted to oppose the expression of tender, wistful love with the utmost egoism, and he now opposes it – how clumsy, how tasteless! – a common thief. Mark has kept the right measure when he contrasts the touching extravagance of love with the envy and misgivings of the ordinary adherents of the utilitarian theory.

Earlier, the Fourth Gospel had already quoted the black traitor for the sake of contrast, namely to use his stubbornness as a foil for the love of the Lord and the attachment of the other disciples (John 6:68-71). He borrowed this contrast from the Gospel of Mark, but if Mark only used it once (in the account of the Last Supper) and even then only very appropriately, namely artistically tempered, then the Fourth Gospel has now painted it in glaring colors, as if this contrast were not always, even in the most moderate portrayal, large, terrible, and moving enough, and placed it everywhere, even in very inappropriate places, wherever he found a place for it.

However, this time there was a very special reason that led him to execute Judas here. In the scripture of Mark, immediately after the report of the anointing, there is a note (C. 14, 10) that Judas left to betray Jesus to the high priests. Well, here the fourth one had Judas in front of him, he also reads here that the betrayer was promised money by the priests. He slips it into his report about the anointing, the note about the money makes him make the villain a money man, in order to give him the opportunity to prove his greediness, he makes him immediately the treasurer of the society *) and afterwards – yes afterwards, after his wonderful report about the anointing he omits the note that Judas went to the priests and was promised money, a note that was necessary for the whole gospel.

*Tholuck (comm. p. 229) says, what the holy John C. 12, 4 – 6 reports, is “the only psychological trait from the life of Judas, which enables us to read his soul. Now read what Mr. Tholuck reads out in order to feel justified disgust about this astonishing psychology. No! One does not read it! It is too silly not to mention that it is empty straw threshing. Judas is no longer a treasurer!

198

Further, the question arises, how he came to set Martha and Mary in motion for the banquet. What a superfluous question! We have already seen how he wove Luke’s note of the two sisters into his story of the raising of Lazarus. He does that again here. As Luke’s Martha resurrects, so does his; as Luke’s Mary sits at the feet of Jesus, so does his prove her devotion to the Lord by anointing his feet.

He moved the sisters by force to Bethany. In Luke, where he first met them, they live in some village and Jesus meets them on his journey before he comes to Judea. The force that the Fourth used in this transfer can be seen very clearly in the hasty intention with which he immediately, as he first writes down the word Bethany in C. 11, 1. 2, assures that this place was the village of Mary and Martha. He wants to impress upon the reader that this village was the well-known village where Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus, lived, the village where Mary lived, who, as is known, anointed the feet of the Lord and wiped them with her hair – Yes, yes, he tells the readers, just believe it, it is the same well-known village! the same village!

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The name Lazarus he has from the narration of the rich man and Lazarus which he has read with Luke. His Lazarus is a revenant who should bring the people forcefully to the faith.

He transfers Lazarus to Bethany in order to use the miracle that happened to him to bring about the final catastrophe.

But would it really be because he used the elements that Mark and Luke gave him so externally? *) We have proved it and will add new proofs.

*) Strauss (l, 786. 787) not only doubts it, but decides – i.e. in the mist of his mystical tradition hypothesis – for the opposite. He does not find it “advisable to accuse the fourth gospel here of an unhistorical naming. For the relationship of Jesus to the family in Bethany, like the several festive journeys, is a point at which this Gospel in all probability has more precise notes ahead of the others.” The scattered features in the Synoptic Gospels of Jesus’ relationship to Bethany and to Martha and Mary are “just as many signposts pointing to a point of unification according to John’s narrative.” Of course! – thus in a completely different sense! – After John had united these traits in his report.

He holds the thing so uncertainly that we must think at the beginning, when he says, Martha waited for, that the guest meal takes place in the house of Lazarus, and nevertheless we hear immediately on it that Lazarus is only a guest. Why? Because in the original report, with Mark, the anointing woman comes to the banquet, thus is not at home with the host; because the host in the original report is called Simon. Even Luke has left the matter so far unchanged that the host is called Simon: this impressed the beast somewhat and he now presents the matter in such a way that Lazarus is only one of the guests, although we must assume at the beginning that the banquet had been ruined in his house.

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Nevertheless, the fourth was so tender and yielding to the name of Simon that he nevertheless mentions it in his report, even though he does not really want to put it into words about the fact that the innkeeper was a stranger. Isn’t a Simon also mentioned here? Namely as the father of Judas. The fourth was the first to give this name to the traitor’s father, and in order to convince the reader quite definitely on this important point, he calls Judas the son of Simon almost everywhere he thinks of him.

One still insists on us: how? The Fourth would have had before his eyes and used Luke’s account of the anointing? Isn’t it a completely different story?

As for the first, the answer is absolutely yes!

We remember the inconvenience of Mary anointing “the feet of Jesus” and – what cobbled together language! – wipes “the feet of the same” with her hair. Mark and Matthew know nothing of this anointing of the feet; only the head is anointed – that is in order! – So they also know nothing about the drying of the feet.

– – Oh, that one must speak about such things! If only they had fallen into oblivion, which will be their just fate. Now we still have to speak of them, but in such a way that no one needs to remember them anymore, thoroughly, sharply, devastatingly. It is not enough that we break the thorny chains with which they still want to bind us today: we must grind them, pulverize them! – –

But the woman, who comes to the house of Simon in Luke, approaches Jesus, who lay at the banquet, in such a way that she fell unnoticed at his feet, wept behind his back, wetted his feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair and kissed them – and only then she anoints them. (Luke7, 38.) That is in order! There everything is in order! The fourth, however, has disorderly gathered the key words together and thrown them into his report in a colorful jumble.

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We have nothing to do with the second question in the form in which it is usually posed by theologians and critics: whether what Luke reports is the same story, since we have no material interest in such stories. Correctly, i.e. critically and aesthetically correctly posed: namely: is the report of Mark the literary basis for that of Luke? – only then it has interest for us and will immediately receive its answer.

 

5. The report of Luke.

C. 7, 36 – 50.


A Pharisee, who, as we learn from Jesus’ address (v. 40), is called Simon, invited the Lord to the table. But it is not said which was the city where the Pharisee lived, how Jesus came there, since already before it was not said where Jesus was when the message of the Baptist met him. Nain it is not, since the author has long since pushed back the interest that captivated the reader to this city, when he reports that the news of the revival of the young man spread throughout Judea and the whole surrounding area.

A Pharisee invites Jesus as a guest. Only Luke knows how to praise such kindness of the Pharisees; he lets the Lord very often be invited to the table by these his arch-enemies, in order to – strangely and rudely enough! – to give him the opportunity to be quite crude against them, sometimes thunderously. This contradiction is most vociferous in the breakfast scene C. 11, 37 – a contradiction that dissolves this whole breakfast and banquet pragmatism.

Once again, Jesus has the opportunity to strongly rebuke the Pharisee and accuse him of being beneath the sinner who – another contradiction! – had entered Simon’s house and dining room, without us knowing how she, as a stranger and even as a woman, could do this, and how she could stay in the room undisturbed until she showed her love to the Lord.

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When she bathed Jesus’ feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and anointed them *), the Pharisee – – another inconvenience – was not upset that a notorious sinner had invaded his house, but he was only inwardly surprised that Jesus, if he wanted to be a prophet, did not know that the woman was a sinner. Since he allowed himself to be “touched” so nonchalantly by her, it seemed that he did not know her status, so he probably was not a prophet. But if he thought that the touch of the woman defiled him, he should have immediately expelled her from the house instead of engaging in such foolish speculations about the prophetic gift of his guest.

*) On the fact that the woman anoints Jesus’ feet, it only comes up in Luke’s account because she had just been busy with his feet.

But the author of the verse did not notice these contradictions, because all that mattered to him was that the woman got into the house and the Lord had the opportunity to punish the pride of Pharisaic self-righteousness.

But how did Jesus realize that the Pharisee had just this thought, that he doubted his prophetic dignity? Just think! – It is not a small thing! – Just this particular thought! Small thing! He noticed it because the evangelist made him clairvoyant, omniscient!

Jesus does not directly respond to the Pharisee’s objection – this should only serve to open his mouth – but he speaks about something completely different: the extraordinary demonstration of love by that woman.

As the debtor who had been forgiven a larger sum by his creditor than his co-debtor would feel greater love, so – – but it does not follow what we expect; the whole thing is designed and executed in such a way that it mocks even the most reasonable expectation.

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We would expect: “You have shown me less love because you have been forgiven less,” but instead the discourse takes a completely different direction. The Lord complains that the Pharisee has shown him nothing of love, not even the necessary courtesies. Later on, the discourse becomes more general and the personal consideration for the Pharisee completely disappears – which had to happen after such an unfortunate start – and it is said: “But the one who has been forgiven little loves little.”

What kind of reproach is this against the Pharisee! Has he not made his affection known to the Lord, when he — he a Pharisee! — invites him into his house? And when he asks him to the table, will he not have given him water to wash his feet, will he not have welcomed him with the usual kiss? And if it was customary and demanded, as we must assume after Jesus’ complaint *), the Pharisee will also have anointed his guest’s head. The reason why the Pharisee has to hear the accusations that Jesus makes against him is because, as the self-righteous person in contrast to the sinner, he needed to be rebuked. However, the Evangelist made a mistake by making the accusation about violated etiquette.

*) Theologians often talk on this occasion about the “well-known Jewish custom” as if they were very familiar with wonders in Judea! And they still dare to discuss the accusation of the Pharisee with seriousness?

Furthermore, in the view that the evangelist follows here, and which he only clumsily processes, the righteous and the sinners form an absolute contrast. The righteous are the healthy ones who do not need a doctor and are condemned (Mark 2:17). The evangelist has focused on this contrast between the righteous and the sinners, but he has weakened it, made it relative, by speaking of the contrast between those who are forgiven more or less, and he has also not fully carried out this contrast but crossed it with the absolute one. He wanted to bring the idea of that divine irony, which he borrowed from Mark’s scripture in that classical expression, to be manifested here, but he could not fully control the element, the material, in which he wanted to shape it. He did not go so far as to fully put Jesus in conflict with the Pharisee, because the account of the anointing in Bethany still dominates him, as he does not read in the original account that Simon the host was hostile, nor that the attitude of those who took offense at the anointing was decidedly evil. Hence the extraordinary confusion. Two interests intersected in the mind of the writer, and he could not give either of them the upper hand.

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The same phenomenon is repeated in another form when, all of a sudden, the viewpoint that was just explained and was supposed to be concluded is completely reversed and turned in the opposite direction. At first, love is the result of forgiveness; now it is the opposite: because the woman has loved much, her many sins will be forgiven. We leave it to the Protestants to struggle with the agony and torture of this verse, as they are concerned about their salvation order – because a biblical verse can overturn everything – and instead we point out the reason for this reversal! It is because the report itself has left the assumption standing that the woman showed her love to the Lord before her forgiveness was declared, and because Luke is dependent on the original report in which the woman approached Jesus without hesitation before he had spoken to her about anything!

Finally, when Jesus said to the woman: your sins are forgiven (v. 49), a whole new interest comes. The guests wondered inwardly “who he is that forgives sins also”. *). Inappropriate exuberance! The report should be finished now, since Simon’s concern is completely solved. Two collisions in one report is too much **), which is confirmed in the present report itself, if Jesus does not explicitly address this new concern – the reminiscence of the original presentation of this concern would then also have been too clear and too annoying – he only says – again clumsily, as if he had to defend the woman and not rather himself against a concern – v. 50: “your faith has helped you, go in peace. “This new concern is borrowed from the report of Mark about the healing of the paralytic (Mark 2, 7) and the form in which it is presented is formed after the exclamation of the disciples about Jesus’ power that he had exercised over the wind and the sea ***).

*) τις ουτος εστιν, ος και . . . . 

**) One must understand! These are not reports that reflect the often accidental configurations of real history, but productions of the imagination that are not disturbed by the accidental interference of reality. Everywhere the imagination – as with Mark – creates originally, the creatures are a complete and individually closed whole. The skillful imitator will also create complete, individual figures; but if he is unskilled, chance and the limited associations of ideas, the weakness of plastic power, will take the place of chance and caprice, which have their scope in empirical reality.

***) Mark 4, 41 τις αρα ουτος εστιν οτι και . . .

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In short, the report of Luke is a tragedy. It is clumsily copied from the report of Mark about the anointing in Bethany, the woman became a sinner, because the author wanted to use this report – why? we will see later! – to give a vivid expression to the irony about the righteous and the sinners, and Simon, who has now become a Pharisee, takes the place of those who took offense at the anointing in the original report.

If we leave aside the theological babbling about the kinship relationship between Simon and Lazarus, perhaps the opinion of Gfrörer is worth mentioning. He regards the Gospel of John as a sanctuary of truth: Judas, Simon’s son, was the one who was angered by the anointing. “In the mouth of the legend,” this Judas, Simon’s son, was turned into the simple Simon, and the hateful, wicked man finally became – as one may read for oneself – Simon the leper; as such, he became the host in the Gospel of Luke. “So events change under the hands of the legend!” *) “I could demonstrate this,” Mr. Gfrörer continues, “from lively examples, anecdotes about Frederick and Napoleon that are circulating among the people and old soldiers in this country. ” It’s a pity that these lively examples come too late, as we have now shown that events can change greatly “under the hands” of writers, and that in particular, this time the Simon of Mark, after becoming the Simon of Luke, became the Judas, Simon’s son of the Fourth. It’s a pity that only the Fourth knows that Judas’ father’s name is Simon. It’s a pity that Mark placed the anointing in the aesthetically correct chronological relationship to the death of Jesus, and the Fourth inserted many alien things between them and to that end turned Mark’s two days into six! It’s a great pity that the Gospel of Mark is so pushy and threatening to theologians and critics!

*) The Holy Saga, l, 179-181.

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If, by the way, through the power of that ironic contrast, Luke succeeded, more than he himself knew, in creating one of the most excellent objects of Christian art – the sinner is the objective, personified expression of that irony about the contrast of the sinner and the righteous; her tear is itself already the victory and the mockery of this contrast of reason – then Mark, in forming his story of the anointing, also succeeded in giving expression to a view that belongs essentially to Christianity. What basically drove him to work out this story full of the anointing in Bethany was not the antithesis that the anointing and embalming, which according to the plan of his writing should not be given to the body of the Lord, should be carried out in advance, but the other interest, that now, when the sufferings and pains begin, nor was it simply the motive that the body of the Most High should be symbolically protected from decomposition or represented in advance as the incorruptible one – all these motives were involved in the creation of this narrative, but the main motive was the feeling of veneration for the incorruptible body of the Lord. The body of the Savior has already received the high significance for the point of view on which the Gospel was written, which it enjoyed in the classical and plastic time of Christianity, in the time of Catholicism. The body became – and rightly so, since it is unique in its kind – the object of veneration, pious contemplation and care. But this veneration, contemplation and care was especially obligatory for the woman, since she is more sentimental and more capable of joy, which smiles through tears, than the man. Only a woman is allowed to rejoice and weep at the same time, as she is the only person who can mourn and care for the body of death, which is also the eternal and incorruptible body. It is the woman who, in those Catholic images, holds the body of the crucified in her lap and gazes upon it with sorrow and love!

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Moreover, it hardly needs to be mentioned that the assumption that the sinner was Mary Magdalene, whom Luke later mentions as a person not previously mentioned (Chapter 8, verse 2), goes against the view of the Evangelist.

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6. Theological Chronology.


If we now say a word about chronology, we certainly do not intend to make ourselves ridiculous and ask when that anointing of Jesus took place. The matter is already settled when we have found as a time determination that this anointing as this specific event only took place in the imagination of Mark *), and when we have stated that the Fourth Gospel has very inappropriately and unsuccessfully pushed the event back by at least four days. Rather, we want to give an example of theological chronology and language, and if we mention Olshausen for this reason, we ask that this not be understood as if Olshausen were unique in his kind, but all theologians down to Neander are just as skilled in language and chronology, and to their disadvantage, they only differ from Olshausen in that he has a method in such matters.

*) In this ideal world it was also only possible, what Mark alone reports, that the woman broke the alabaster vessel in which she had the ointment. But she broke it in that feeling of enthusiasm in which it seems to man that a vessel which has served a high, single purpose would be dishonored if it should afterwards again serve the use of ordinary life.

In order to make this method understandable to the reader, we must first note that Luke, after the account of the sinner, continues (C. 8, 1-4): “After that Jesus went about preaching in the towns and villages, and once, when many people had gathered, he took occasion to recite the parable of the sower. “Matthew, on the other hand, says that Jesus delivered the parable (C. 13, 1) on the same day that He had taken the stand against the Pharisees for violating the Sabbath and against the accusation that He was in league with the sower (C. 12). Luke has assigned completely different places to these events.

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Now hear, Israel!

Matthew, says Olshausen *), connects the following C. 13 by such a certain chronological indication, with which also Mark 4, 1 agrees that one can consider the same (!) as belonging to each other (!). (We are silent about the language! Olshausen wanted to say that Matthew links the two chapters 12 and 13 to each other!) For this reason, here is the most appropriate place to include a story that Luke (C. 7, 36 – 50) has alone; this is placed by the evangelist in the most intimate connection with the story of the parable of the sower. (Every reasonable person would have to think that this is the reason to doubt that this story could be included here. Olshausen thinks differently, but must now dissolve everything that he has just said about the most intimate relationship, about definite chronology, into a very indefinite talk again). Of course, even in this case, the assertion of a strict order cannot be thought of, because while Matth. 13, 1 says: on that day, so that still the parable (! what language!) would have to be put on one and the same day with the preceding, we read after the story of the anointing (in Luke): ” in the following it happened “, which formula puts the following in any case on a late day. (Not to mention that Luke thinks that a lot of time passed between the anointing and the parable recital: isn’t that a strict order, if Matthew and Luke each indicate the chronology so definitely?) So (!) this passage should have been placed before C. 12 Matth, provided that everything in it happened on the same day with C. 13. (So? Because the evangelists do not keep a strict order? Therefore Olshausen wants to arbitrarily nest the reports and think that he puts each one in its right place? And what an enormously and wonderfully long day, on which everything happened, what Matthew C. 12. 13 reports). However, since the time indications in Matthew leave it completely unclear where the day begins and in Luke there is also no mention of the time of the anointing (Olshausen distinguishes it from the anointing in Bethany), nothing definite could be determined and that is precisely why (!) we let ourselves be guided by the “fitting together” of the following events to include it here. (And a few lines earlier we read the opposite “therefore”, that Olshausen wanted to include the event here precisely because the chronological indications of Matthew and Luke were very specific! Now it is said that they are unclear and uncertain! And if, as now suddenly turns out, they are indefinite, why include “the anointing” here? Because of the “fitting together of the following”? What kind of fitting together? Chronological? That was proven! Substantive? What kind of substance? Because the parable of the sower is mentioned afterwards? Or because the women in Jesus’ entourage are mentioned afterwards? Oh, you hypocrites, if Luke had not pleased to report the anointing exactly here, you would never have thought that there could be talk of a “fitting together of the following”!)

*) I, 428 – 430.

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And why did Luke like to tell the anointing here, to include his transformation of the report of Mark just here? Certainly not because of the “fitting together of the following”!

But because he had just spoken about the relationship of himself and John the Baptist to the people in Luke 7:34-35. The Lord said that neither he nor John the Baptist could please the people; he did not lead the strict way of life of John, he ate and drank, and yet people called him a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners! Now, to make this word of his true, Luke immediately invites him to dinner and gives him the opportunity to prove his friendship for sinners. Therefore, because Luke 7:34 is based on Mark 2:17, that irony about the intellectual contrast between the supposedly righteous and sinners must now be woven into the account of the anointing. Or rather, Jesus’ statement about how the people judged him and the new interpretation of the original report on the anointing are a cohesive work that formed in the mind of Luke at the same time. Jesus’ behavior towards the sinner is meant to explain how the people could come to think of him as a friend of sinners.

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If the origin of Luke’s account has now been proven beyond any doubt and Olshausen’s assertion – that the narrative of Luke is a “total distortion” of the parallels and is “incompatible” with the meaning of the biblical scriptures before Christian consciousness – must be repudiated by anyone who has even the slightest spark of love for truth and humanity within themselves. This is a consciousness that offers a repugnant defiance of truth, and while pretending to fight for truth and scripture, it is afraid of the truth and turns its nose up at scripture, plays tricks, lies, mocks and treats the most specific details and explanations of scripture as if they were the work of a schoolboy – no, even worse – which distorts scripture.

I still wanted, from Schleiermacher’s book on Luke, to give an example of

7. theological omniscience

Schleiermacher believes that what Luke and the others report is an account of the same event, “only viewed from a different perspective.” However, my desire to provide an example of theological omniscience from Schleiermacher’s writing has faded. I only note that according to Schleiermacher *), the criticism expressed by the disciples was “simultaneous” with the Pharisee’s objection. In the end, Jesus would have had to refute both that criticism and this objection at the same time, in the same words. John and Luke’s informant then divided this “simultaneous” duality!

*) p. 111.

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Thanks, thanks, Mark, for freeing us from the theological lie! Thanks to the kind fate that has preserved the scripture of Mark to pull us out of the web of this hellish pseudo-science!

Understand! The unctuous, theological aberrations of earlier critics, such as Schleiermacher, we do not, of course, want to accuse as open lies; they are products of a still constricted, fearful time. But if one now comes to reproach us with Schleiermacher’s “sense of truth” as a horror and to condemn the free, human critic after the truth has come to light, one may expect only the strongest language from our side.

Instead of enduring this omniscience any longer, let us rather take a look at the fourth evangelist. We may only take this look now, after we have established all the necessary conditions.

 

8. The Adulteress of the Fourth Gospel.


It remains as we have proved in our writing on the Gospel history of John that the passage dealing with the adulteress was written by the author of the fourth Gospel.

The adulteress is the sinner of Luke. As she is accused by Simon in such a way that Jesus is reproached for having a friendly relationship with a sinner, as it finally (Luke 7, 49) raises doubts that Jesus acquits the sinner, so the Pharisees and scribes who bring the adulteress to Jesus assume that he will not declare himself against the sinner, indeed they hope, because they are sure that he will acquit her, to catch him thereby and to get a reason for accusation.

Lücke, who would like to absolve his John from responsibility for this passage, asks *): “But what entitled the scribes and Pharisees to count on such a decision from Jesus with certainty?” We have answered! The knowledge of the character of Jesus, which the Fourth Gospel obtained from the Gospel of Luke, he shares with those tempters from the very beginning.

*) II, 226.

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But, the faithful theologians ask further, what was the collision in which Jesus’ enemies hoped to entangle him? No one has been able to determine it so far! Of course! Because the matter itself is vague and indeterminate, because the Evangelist himself had no specific understanding of it and no knowledge of the political and civic constitution of the Jews at that time, in short, because he copied Mark and Luke – who, however, mention a completely different collision. **).

**) John 8, 6: τούτο δε έλεγον πειράζοντες αυτόν, ένα έχωσι κατηγορεϊν αυτόν.

Mark 12, 13: … ένα αυτόν άγρεύσωσι λόγω. 23. 15: τι με πειράζετε.

Luke 20, 20: . . . . ένα επιλάβωνται αυτού λόγον, εις το παραδούναι αυτήν τη αρχή

Mark 3, 2:  . . . . ινα κατηγορήσωσιν αυτού.

One asks, as does Lücke, how the opponents could speak of stoning when, according to the almost unanimous testimony of the rabbis, the punishment for adultery was strangulation. But what did the Fourth care about the anxiety of later “Christian consciousness” and about the judicial system at the time of Jesus, of which he knew so little that he did not even dream of that anxiety. He was satisfied if, like Mark, he mentioned the Law of Moses in a discussion of marital matters. ***).

***) John 8, 5 : εν δε τω νομω μωσης ημιν ενετειλατο

Mark 10, 3 : τι υμιν ενετειλατο μωσης

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Whether the punishment commanded by Moses still applied at the time of Jesus, he did not know and was highly indifferent to!

Although the collision between Jesus and his opponents may be viewed as serious and prosaic, it is ultimately meaningless and ill-defined, as the Fourth Gospel overemphasizes the criminal and scandalous nature of the event, transforming the compassionate sinner of Luke into an adulteress caught in the act. Nevertheless, Jesus’ response: “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her” is still beautiful in that it evokes the indefinite feeling of the transcendence of heavenly or moral justice over legal justice within us, touching upon the sense of moral infinity within us. However, setting aside the fact that the collision is too crudely depicted by the Fourth Gospel, the scene becomes artificial again when Jesus twice scribbles in the sand to show his contempt for the Pharisees, and the depiction becomes ridiculous when the Evangelist describes how the tempters “slip away one by one, beginning with the elders.” This is a pretentious exaggeration of the synoptic expression: “He shut their mouths”, or they “went away”, or “they marveled,” or “they kept quiet, and no one dared to ask him anymore.”

The description of the situation in which Jesus found himself when the Pharisees brought the woman to him is borrowed from the Synoptics’ account of Jesus’ way of life during his stay in Jerusalem, and is especially copied from Luke.

The fourth says *) that after the quarrel with the crowd and the councilors (C. 7) and when the trouble of the Feast of Tabernacles was over, “Jesus went to the Mount of Olives; and early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them.” Luke tells us that Jesus, while in Jerusalem, “taught in the temple by day, and went out by night, and lodged in the mount of Olives: and early in the morning all the people rose up to hear him in the temple.

*) John 8, 1. 2: επορεύθη εις το όρος των ελαιών. όρθρου δε πάλιν παρεγένετο εις το ιερόν και πάς ο λαός ήρχετο προς αυτόν, και καθίσας εδίδασκεν αυτούς.

Luke 21, 37, 38: ήν δε τας ημέρας εν τω ιερώ διδάσκων, τας δε νύκτας εξερχόμενος ηυλίζετο εις το όρος καλούμενον ελαιών. και πάς ο λαός ώρθριζε προς αυτόν εν τώ ιερώ ακούειν αυτού. Luke’s own fabrication ! Mark did not think it was worth the effort to record the details of the diary to that extent. He only shows the reader that the Lord must have had an inn in Bethany.

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From Luke, the fourth has “all the people”, whereas otherwise he knows “the multitudes”. Luke is to blame for the fact that after the bickering of the past days, “all the people” suddenly come to the Lord.

The fact that Jesus sits teaching this time is attributed by the evangelist to Mark, who also has Jesus sit in the temple and look at the people *).

*) Mark 12, 41: και καθισας – Luke did not omit this expression from the parallel passage, so the Fourth Gospel must have carefully consulted the text when developing this situation.

The scribes, whom he does not mention otherwise, are sent against the Lord this time together with the Pharisees, because he has in mind the passage of the Synoptic Gospels where the Pharisees and scribes appear to capture Jesus by fragments. But why does he now bring here a parallel to those attacks? As if he could not have used it in any other place, since in his case the hostility of the Jewish party is decided very soon!

The Pharisees put the adulteress in the middle, as Jesus did another time when the Pharisees were waiting for an opportunity to accuse him, when they were watching whether he would heal the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath, and ordered the sick man to put himself in the middle **).

**) John 8, 3: στήσαντες αυτήν εις το μέσον.

Luke 6, 8: έγειραι και στήθι εις το μέσον.

Mark 3, 4: έγειραι εις το μέσον.

“Go,” Jesus says to the adulteress, dismissing her as he says to the sinner in Luke: “Go in peace”, except that the fourth makes him add: “And sin no more!” *)

*) John 8, 11; πορεύου και μηκέτι αμάρτανε. (Comp. 6. 5, 14.)

Luke 7, 50: πορεύoυ εις ειρήνην.

Luke 5, 24 : πορεύoυ εις τον οίκόν σου.

Mark 2, 11: ύπαγε εις τον οίκόν σου.

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The theologians were very surprised and complained of arbitrariness when I explained that the whole glorious practicality of festival travel in the fourth gospel was nothing but a fabricated work, an external support with which the author wanted to help the weakness of the spiritual, inner pragmatism. They may now think about where the Fourth Evangelist knew so exactly that the incident with the adulterous woman took place on the day after that Feast of Tabernacles.

What a mind this evangelist had, who wrote a work like the one we have from his hand, after studying the synoptic Gospels so diligently!

—————

 


2023-04-22

§ 83. The raising of Lazarus

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 3

—o0o—

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§ 83.

The raising of Lazarus.

John 11, 1 – 45.

 

1. The Irony of the Divine.

The sisters of Lazarus had sent word to their Master that their brother was sick. “This sickness,” replied Jesus (v. 4), “is not unto death.”

The answer of Jesus to the messengers”, says Lücke *), “presupposes that he had inquired more exactly about the sickness, that it should comfort the sisters. “The meaning is: “the illness is not fatal in the ordinary sense. “

Jesus is supposed to be omniscient. He always knows where the end is going. He is above the needs and wants of others and therefore does not call things by the names that others call them. It is a heavenly euphemism that death is not death. For Jesus, the sickness of Lazarus is not death.

There is nothing in the text about a more detailed inquiry of the sisters, nor was it possible in the sense that Jesus could have gained insights from them that were inaccessible to the sisters. Rather, they viewed – and rightly so – the state of the sick man as desperate.

Furthermore, Jesus himself said that this illness would serve to glorify God, so that through it the Son of God would be glorified; for when it has run its course on earth unto death, it is meant to be an occasion for the heavenly glory of Jesus to be revealed.

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As an appearance at least that it could be so, Lücke admits that Jesus may have wanted to imply that only for him the death of Lazarus was not a death.

But it is not only an appearance, it is so. Lücke also deals with this possibility more seriously and says that Jesus “may have deliberately expressed himself ambiguously. But why intentionally? If Jesus only leaves after two days and Lazarus has already been in the grave for four days when he arrives, the sick man will already have passed away when the messengers return. Jesus must have known this as soon as he knew that he would have to leave after two days if he wanted to find Lazarus in the tomb instead of in the sickbed. So was it ambiguous? “The answer should comfort the sisters”: but if Lazarus was already dead when the messengers returned, the sisters must have been mistaken about their master. His answer was a thunderclap for them, when there was no more talk of illness. If Jesus wanted to give the sisters a few words that suited their situation, he would have had to speak about death, not illness.

Yes, says Lücke, “Christ, knowing well that Lazarus would soon die, foresaw the salutary struggle which his dark word would produce in the sisters, and intended it in order to train them in the struggle for greater things. “But if Jesus still spoke of sickness, there was no possibility of a fight: the matter was decided. The sisters could no longer fight, could not worry about the supposed mystery, but it was clear that Jesus had been mistaken. 

We do not need to tell the sensible person, but the theologian, that the educational plan Jesus was supposed to have for the sisters would have been very unsuccessful, since afterwards, when he himself arrived, no one, not even they, thought that Jesus could and would raise the one who had already died.

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Lücke is so uncertain that he retracts all his talk and claims that “it can be assumed without violating the divine glory of the Saviour that he did not know beforehand of the sudden worsening of the illness and the quick death of his friend, but only heard about it from others when it happened.” But without violating the divinity of the Bible, this cannot be assumed, it cannot be thought that Jesus received new messengers after two days who reported the death of Lazarus to him. Voluntarily he stayed behind for two more days, voluntarily he set out after the two days to awaken the dead man, whom he certainly knew to be dead.

And the divine glory of the Redeemer? Well, it is only divine, i.e. inhuman, if the Saviour knows from the beginning that Lazarus will die and that he will raise him from the dead, and if he stays behind for two more days in order to make his glory appear all the more glorious.

These people fight for the glory of Jesus, constantly speak of the divinity of the Bible, and even sing of it in sweet songs, and yet they betray both glory and divinity. The critic puts both majesties back into their true light.

Tholuck and Olshausen also assume that “the dark form of the speech was brought about by the consideration of the sisters”. As I said, there could be no more talk of an inner struggle when the death of Lazarus had so clearly and irrefutably refuted Jesus’ statement. Death had decided the matter and put an end to it.

Since the theologians always feel the difficulty – they are, after all, human! – although they do not dare to imagine clearly the whole magnitude of the offence, they do not trust their own explanations and tricks. No sooner have they given one solution to the difficulty than they immediately have another ready, even if it is more outrageous than the first. The set of solutions is to replace the one, the true solution. They do not grasp the point that matters – and they must not if they are not to despair of their presuppositions – they therefore blink and squint back and forth, even to the most distant and remote places. Thus Tholuck, although he assumes that that speech takes the sisters into account, also squints at the disciples. “Had Jesus spoken with certainty about the imminent death of Lazarus, would not the disciples have been very suspicious of his tarrying and hesitating?” But instead of deceiving them by ambiguous words, and making them sure, he could have told them — that would have been better, more moral and manly, more befitting the Teacher too! – he could have simply told them that he was staying to make the revelation of his glory more glorious. That was his motive in staying: could he not, then, open it to his disciples? Would it have been permissible for them to be displeased with this motive? And if Jesus knew that they suspected his intention, would it not have been his duty to cure the evil thoroughly instead of covering it up? Likewise, could he not tell the sisters the truth, his real motive for not coming immediately? Especially since his vacillating expression had by no means “put them in a state of vacillation between faith and doubt” – for the sisters the expression was by no means vacillating – and since this struggle, if it had really occurred, had “no significant, influential consequences for their inner being?”

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But now Jesus had the certainty that Lazarus would already be dead when the messengers returned, he already had the intention to raise him up; furthermore: his answer to the messengers was meant for the sisters, it was heard by the disciples – so why was it so dark, so incomprehensible, so contrary to the sensual facts?

For the sake of the irony with which divine knowledge regards human knowledge, with which divine language mocks human language, in order to contrast the certainty of the divine with the sorrow and weakness of the human, in order to contrast the divine in its cruel, hard and terrible sublimity with the human – in order to give expression to this divine but inhuman irony, the Evangelist has formed this speech of his Master.

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The irony comes to the fore in all its glory when we consider the following. The way from Jerusalem to Jesus’ present place of abode is a day’s journey, Jesus stays two days in Peraea, when he comes to Bethany on the third day, Lazarus has already been dead four days, so he must have died just after the departure of the messengers, who needed one day to reach Peraea. Now did Jesus know when he had to leave if the miracle was to be quite great, i.e. if he wanted to raise a man who had already been lying in the tomb for four days, i.e. until the day when the messengers arrived in Peraea? until the day when (11:39) according to the course of nature the rottenness had certainly set in, Jesus knew and intended, as is clear from the structure of the account, that now, when the messengers reach him, Lazarus is already dead; i. e., thus the irony of the speech is absolute, and the sublimity of the divine being and use of language has proved itself in all its enormous grandeur. —-

A new contrast follows, the same irony in the form of a pragmatic remark by the historian. “But the Lord loved,” says v. 5, “Martha and her sister and Lazarus. Why “but”? δε? Not only because Jesus had in mind to raise Lazarus, but on the contrary that he did not set out immediately, but rather took the matter lightly and let the dead man be dead. The harshness of the irony is increased by Jesus’ love for that house. When he heard that he was sick (v. 6), he stayed two days in the place where he was staying. He stayed in spite of his love for Lazarus; he stayed because it was all the more important to him to let the glory of God and of his Anointed be revealed. According to the evangelist, it was self-evident that Jesus had only this purpose of glorification in mind and set aside all human consideration. Only one thing is necessary for God to be glorified, and to this one thing everything human must be sacrificed.

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Theologians, like Lücke, who no longer dare to unreservedly acknowledge the one purpose of the world, claim that Jesus stayed because he was “perhaps engaged in happy activity” at that very moment. Olshausen rightly remarks, however, that this explanation “is not sufficient”, for Jesus “could have left behind some disciples and returned there soon afterwards, and in that case, nothing would have been missed.”

But if Olshausen thinks that this motive was also present, but not as the only one, that this explanation was only not “sufficient”, then his explanation itself is not sufficient. Not only is this motive not made clear in the report, but it did not take place at all, because another motive, and only this other motive, determined the gentleman to stay behind for two more days. And even the most splendid theologians are still unclear about this motive! Olshausen thinks that “all, including Lazarus himself, were to grow up through this glorious revelation of God in the inner man”, Tholuck thinks that Jesus had a “pedagogical purpose”, “in the case of the sisters – that is, the purpose, the magnification of the miracle is admitted, but only secretly, not with Christian frankness and very quickly made into a means underhand – the need was to rise to the highest level, so that His help would make all the greater impression. “But the report says nothing about the fact that the Lazari sisters, that he himself, were the purpose, that their spiritual edification was intended. The only purpose is the glorification of God, and for this purpose Lazarus’ death *), the putrefaction of his corpse and the misery of the sisters are the means. There is only one purpose for this awareness and everything else, death and life, preservation and destruction is only a means for this purpose.

*) Correctly, but with a still far too sentimental circumlocution, Bengel says: mori est quiddain non ita refugiendum. Lazarus mortnus est aliquantisper ad gloriam filii Dei.

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Jesus stayed behind in Peraea for two days, so that the glory of God, and through it His own glorification, would come forth clearly and boldly.

Indeed, as Calvin says, Jesus acted according to the example of his heavenly Father, who loves to send help only at the moment of greatest need. But the purpose of this procedure is always only the revelation of the divine glory and power and the irony of the divine superhuman custom, calculation, fear and love *). Man helps because he believes he must help, he helps out of compassion and believes that he must not withdraw his help from the sufferer for a moment, he helps not for his own sake but for the sake of the other. God only helps when all help already seems impossible, he helps in order to reveal his glory. —–

*) Calvin himself says: quum sollicitudinem amor gignat, statim aecurrere debuit.

Without noticing why it is necessary now and what moves him to do it, Jesus says to the disciples in v. 7: “Let us set out again for Judea! “Nor do the disciples remember that Lazarus is dangerously ill and that the sisters sent that urgent message two days ago; rather, as if there had never been a Lazarus in the world, they find it incomprehensible that Jesus would want to go back to Judea, since the Jews wanted to stone him (v. 8). Both are very striking, but explained by the following, which is even more striking and takes the contradiction to the extreme. After that remark of the disciples Jesus should have remembered Lazarus; instead he says in v. 9 that he has to go to Judea – well? to help his friend Lazarus? No! – because – yes, why? we do not understand it, because he establishes a principle that cannot even fit him on the one hand. The first half of the first half of the saying (“are not twelve hours of the day?”) can at most fit him: he must use the hours of the day well; as long as it is day for him, as long as he still remains among the living, he must prove himself active. But how does the general expression of this thought fit him? “He who walks by day does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world”? Was there talk before of stumbling, of offence, and did not the first half of this first half of the saying only say that one must seize the hours of the day and use them for action? And how does the second half of the saying fit in for him? Can there be a night for the Lord in which he has to fear that he will stumble? Is there a fluctuation in his inner life between day and night? For in the end this saying must be understood spiritually from the wavering within, which is also indicated by its intensification when it says: he who walks in the night stumbles because the light is not “in him”! Is there a time for the Lord when he does not have the light in him?

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It is clear, as even Olshausen admits, that one may turn the saying however one likes, it does not fit “purely” into the context. Nevertheless, it is the most sacred duty of the theologian to turn the saying back and forth until it fits into the whole. We must, says Olshausen, assume a multi-faceted relationship in the saying, Jesus speaks of Himself in a twofold respect, firstly, as Himself doing His day’s work, and secondly, in so far as He Himself is again the light of the disciples. This relationship is carried out in the second half of the saying; the disciples should never want to walk without him and his light. But if Jesus had wanted to give the disciples a saying to take with them on their way, he would have had to emphasise this relationship to them clearly and distinctly, all the more so because the first half refers so clearly to him and the whole saying is only caused by a reflection on his situation and person. Where the starting point of the saying and the relationship of at least the first half to the first half is so clear and definite, the change in the relationship should certainly have been indicated in its place.

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This indication is missing, although the saying does contain these two different relationships. The evangelist has introduced the saying wrongly, he has not motivated it, since he has wedged it in here without regard to the situation, he has finally worked it out very unhappily, since he has neither separated the two different relations of it from one another, nor even less has he substantiated the relation to the disciples.

The confusion comes from this. The evangelist abandons any thought of Lazarus, because here, when Jesus is going to Jerusalem and the catastrophe is imminent, he remembers how Jesus, before leaving Galilee, spoke about his highest task and duty, and when a disciple wanted to admonish him from the thought of his duty, he rather pointed out to his followers their duty. If the evangelist wanted to insert this discourse (Mark 8, 38-38), he would have had to forget Lazarus, and if he wanted to squeeze Jesus’ remarks into one saying, he could not have worked more happily, especially in view of his other clumsiness.

Only afterwards in v. 11 does Jesus speak of Lazarus, but he still does not speak humanly. Our friend Lazarus, he says, is asleep, but I go to wake him up. Only then, when the disciples understand this speech literally and conclude from the circumstance that Lazarus is asleep that he is presumed to have recovered, does he actually say that Lazarus is dead. So again the contrast between the divine language and the inability of men to understand it! The irony of the contrast between the divine language and contemplation of things and the human way of guarding and signifying things!

The evangelist loves such profound and instructive misunderstandings so much that he often forms them without reflecting on the fact that they must be impossible even according to the presuppositions he had just given. Jesus says that he is glad that he was not there, because now they would believe *), so he says most definitely that he will raise Lazarus. Nevertheless, Thomas says to his fellow disciples: if he wants to go to Judea, let us also go and die with him. What a treasure trove for the theological portrayers! But as if there could still be talk of death when Jesus says that he wants to raise a dead man. The evangelist has fallen back into his completely inappropriate thoughts of the proximity of the catastrophe!

*) How theologians squirm to and fro! Lücke says (II, 380) “Christ did not rejoice directly that he was not there, but over what followed from it.” Well, then he rejoiced indirectly over his absence (and deliberately so)! But not secretly, inwardly, hidden: No! No! He openly rejoices in the means that made the revelation of his glory more powerful. The Gospel of John does not acknowledge the crowds of unbelievers!

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2. The unbelief of Martha.


Jesus arrives in Bethany. The body has been in the tomb for four days. There are many Jews with the sisters to comfort them.

Martha heard – from where? would be a superfluous question in an account that is dissolute at every point – that Jesus was coming. She goes to meet him, so that she meets him before he reaches the place. But Mary was sitting at home (v. 17 – 20).

Martha, according to her character, appears to be the busy one, Mary the pensive one. “Alone”, says Olshausen, that does not seem quite right. According to Mary’s character we would expect her to hurry to the Saviour immediately and under all circumstances. Sitting quietly, knowing that he was there, was not at all suitable for her.

All the worse! All the more dangerous for the evangelist that he did not help Mary to stand up! All the worse! Then it is clear that the almighty historian has used very superficial and therefore very unfortunate means for his purposes, what he learned about the character of the two sisters from the scripture of Luke (Luke 10:38). He read that Martha was busy, so he quickly portrayed her as such and only made a mistake in not letting her run around in the household or run to the kitchen, but instead to the Lord. Mary is the contemplative one who sits quietly with her thoughts. But since she only remains seated, it has come to the point that she is estranged from the Lord, at whose feet her place is.

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“Lord, if you had been here,” Martha says to Jesus, “my brother would not have died,” so it seems or rather it is clear that she has given up all hope of help. Therefore, it is difficult when she continues in verse 22, “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” Olshausen says, “what she actually means by these words, that Christ’s prayer is still possible, is unclear.” But the contrast to the words, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died,” makes it completely clear. If Jesus’ absence was to blame for Lazarus’ death, she thinks that there is still a moment when Jesus can help, because his Father will not refuse him anything.

It is not obscure, but rather clear, why Olshausen wants to make Martha’s speech obscure: namely, when she says in verse 22 that she still has hope even now when everything seems lost, it does not only “seem” as Olshausen says, that she is not thinking of the resurrection of the dead in further conversation, but she really is not thinking about it. Immediately after expressing her hope, Jesus says, “Your brother will rise again!” Shouldn’t her hope have been revived and strengthened by these words of Jesus, even if they are still so general? But no! “Yes, I know that,” she answers as if Jesus’ words could not be applied to the present moment, “he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus responds (v. 25-26), “I am the resurrection and the life,” and goes on in a very convoluted tautology to explain that whoever believes in him, even if he dies, will live. He then explicitly asks if she believes. “Yes,” she answers, “I believe that you are the Son of God.” But she says nothing about believing that her deceased brother will be raised back to life by the Lord even now. On the contrary, as if everything were now done, when she has only expressed her faith in the Messiah in general, she runs off to tell her sister. But does she say a word to her sister that now, since the Lord has come, there is still hope for their brother? Not a word! She only says, “The Master is here,” and – but nothing had been said about this – tells her to come quickly. Even later, Martha gives no slightest proof of her faith that the Lord will now or can now raise her brother. Even at the moment when he makes arrangements to raise Lazarus, even when he commands the stone to be removed from the grave vault, she still wants to resist the Lord by reminding him that now everything is in vain: Lazarus has already been in the tomb for four days and already smells.

*) If Tholuck is so precise and diligent that he refers to the word Master in C. 1, 39, where Jesus is called Rabbi and this word is translated as Master – what a profound reference! – he should also have shown us where Martha received this commission from the Lord. When, by the way, Tholuck says: “Drawing hope from the Saviour’s foreboding words, she hastens to the beloved sister”, we do not only ask where something of this hope is written, but in order to get to the bottom of this omniscience once and for all, we hereby request that a critical revolutionary tribunal be set up and all believing expounders of the Holy Scriptures be summoned, with the instruction that they bring with them the Bible editions on which they base their so instructive commentaries, and subject them to close scrutiny. We will find out some beautiful things!

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The contradiction is very great, but it cannot be solved in such a way, it cannot be resolved in such an edifying way, as Olshausen tries to do, after he has nevertheless admitted it in the end. He says: “Martha’s mind is to be understood as wavering in her hopes and doubts. “But from the moment when the Lord teaches her about his reviving power, yes, from the moment when Jesus assures her that her brother will rise again (v. 23) to her remark that her brother is already a prey to decay, she does not doubt, she does not waver, but is determined that a resuscitation of the dead man is no longer to be thought of. Even after Jesus’ statements, which should have revived her hopes, if she had any, she shows that she has resigned.

Olshausen – we cite him in particular because he struggled with these difficulties more diligently and thoroughly than the others – says further: “in Martha’s longing to possess the beloved deceased again, there was still much that was material and her own that had to be stripped away. “Jesus had wanted to take care of this business by pointing her to him as the Saviour. But if this had really been his intention, then he did not work towards this point in a definite and explicit way, or Martha must have been horribly obdurate, for even when she confesses her faith in the Messiah, she does not say a word to indicate that she is now prepared to embrace her brother again in a dignified and godly way. On the contrary, she seems to have abandoned her brother’s cause.

Where, then, does the contradiction come from? Before we answer, we have to consider the behaviour of the other persons with whom Jesus comes into contact here. Mary, the faithful Mary, who also here proves her attachment to the Lord, since she immediately, as she perceives his arrival, runs out to him and falls at his feet, she does not speak a word that could betray *) that she expects help from the Lord and Master. The first value with which she greets him, the only one she speaks to him, is the same as her sister had already spoken: “if you had been here, my brother would not have died! (v. 32), so she is also of the opinion that everything is now lost.

*) Tholuck must here again have had in his possession a very special edition of the Holy Scriptures. He says: “Her further speech (which should come after v. 32) is stifled by tears. She is not able, like Martha, to add the utterance of a joyful, bold hope.” (Likewise de Wette, p. 137.) It must not take long with that tribunal. It must be set up immediately.

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Further! In order that the picture may be properly filled up, and that all persons may express their conviction that the matter can now no longer be changed, the Jews must also appear, who had followed Mary, because they thought she was going to the tomb to weep there. They therefore came with her to Jesus, and said, when all had spoken his mind, Could he not, since he had opened the eyes of the man born blind, make it so that he should not die?

The contradiction now has its explanation: no man may think that the resuscitation of a dead man is possible; all must have already given up the cause of Lazarus, so that the decision to do the deed, as is the custom in the fourth Gospel, may proceed purely and solely from Jesus, and through this contrast the omnipotence and glory of God may appear all the greater.

Martha, too, must consider the deed impossible. But she had previously declared (v. 22) that she still hoped for help from the Lord! The evangelist had to banish this thought from her mind immediately, or not let it enter her mind again, especially since he only let Martha speak (v. 22) with the outward intention of holding out the prospect of the resurrection of the dead man, in order to bring the Lord to this subject. He did not know how to introduce the conversation more skilfully.

But that the Lord, when he sets about raising a dead person, first speaks of his reviving power and describes himself as the life and resurrection, seemed to the evangelist to be appropriate and necessary in his reflective, theological manner. If Mark has elaborated the postulate of faith, that Jesus in a single case proves his death-surviving power, plastically in the form of history, if the two others let the Lord refer to the raising of the dead as proof of his Messiahship – (in the answer to the messengers of the Baptist) – then the fourth evangelist has formed the dogmatic formula for this power of the Messiah and put it into the mouth of the Lord himself. Moreover, he lets him speak in such a way that his speech remains in a certain limbo, that is, it is suitable both for the future and for the present case, and the contrast is renewed so that the other who hears the words does not understand them completely. Martha understands the speech as if Jesus were speaking only of the future resurrection.

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Let us now see how Jesus behaves in the midst of these expressions of the other’s mind.

 

3. The behaviour of Jesus.


First, it is said (v. 33) that when Jesus saw Mary and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he was angry in spirit, shaken, and asked – in what tone, one can easily imagine – where have you buried him? 

Again, when the Jews remarked that he could have helped Lazarus, he became angry and went to the tomb and commanded – in what tone, again, can easily be imagined – take away the stone!

Why was Jesus angry? Why? answers Olshausen, he was not angry at all, he was not angry, “for the Jews did nothing that could have aroused his anger. “Beautiful knowledge of the evangelical world view *)! That would not have been wrong if everything was so unbelieving that no one thought of the possibility of raising the dead? Jesus’ anguish is the expression in his inner feelings of the contrast between his great power and the pitiful dullness of others.

*) And of the Greek language, we add. For all newer believers know that εμβριμασθαι sometimes, namely, when their very purposes so require, does not mean to be angry.

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Jesus had just expressed his extreme displeasure that Mary and the Jews in her entourage were weeping when he himself began to weep. But how was he allowed to weep himself, after he had scolded the others and was enraged by their mourning, because they had shown their unbelief in his miraculous power in their tears? He would have justified the others in doing what he had just rebuked them for. Furthermore, he was not in the least surprised by the death of Lazarus, rather he had directed the whole thing from the beginning – since he remained quietly in Peraea for two days at the end – in such a way that he would already find his friend in the tomb when he came to Bethany. Jesus not only knew the death of Lazarus beforehand, but he wanted it; but we can only weep over an event that surprises us against our will. Even more: one weeps only over an event that can no longer be changed or undone by us. The tear is our subjective help against a power which we can no longer change and which is superior to us in actual appearance. Jesus did not only know that Lazarus would die, he did not only want to find him in the grave, but he was determined from the beginning to call him back to life. Right from the beginning he said to the disciples: I am glad that I was not there, I am glad that you will now believe. Afterwards, when he ordered the stone to be removed from the tomb and Martha told him that all hope was in vain because Lazarus was already a prey of decay, he chastised her for her unbelief and reminded her of how he had told her that if she believed she would see the glory of God, i.e. a miracle that would bring the power and omnipotence of God before her eyes.

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This statement gives rise to a new difficulty, since, as even Olshausen remarks, Jesus “had not spoken the same words before. “But this difficulty has already been explained and is minor in comparison with the greater one in which the remark that Jesus wept is involved. To be sure, Jesus had not spoken the same words to Martha, only in general he had spoken of the power of life, which he himself was, but in doing so he had nevertheless indicated, even if secretly, that the death of Lazarus was no death for him. In the same sense, he had described the death of his friend to the disciples as a slumber, for him death is not death, for him there is no serious death at all, he had therefore from the outset been beyond the collision into which the death of his friend could put him, he was therefore also above the pain into which others are put by the death of a relative. So why cry? Inexplicable!

Olshausen answers that the object of Jesus’ pain was “not the individual death of Lazarus, but rather death and its horrors in general. The spirit of Christ always embraced the generality. “

This is first of all a very incredulous view of this story. It is not for nothing that Jesus, in his conversation with Martha, described himself as the life and resurrection in general; for the raising of Lazarus is not to be interpreted merely as an individual story, but as the proof of that universal life-force of the Saviour in it. If he awakens this man, he proves that he is the universal life; if he overcomes death, it is a sign that he is always and absolutely superior to it; if he can conquer death, he demonstrates that it has no sting at all for him. So why weep?

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There is another side to Olshausen’s explanation that is wrong. When Jesus wept and the Jews saw it, they said: Behold, how he loved him! So they explain Jesus’ pain in such a way that it was purely and solely related to his personal relationship with Lazarus. If the object of this pain had been a completely different one, Jesus would have made this clear, as he usually does in the case of such misunderstandings in the Fourth Gospel. He does indeed express his displeasure afterwards, but not because the Jews believed that he wept over Lazarus, but because they noticed that he, who had restored the blind man’s face, could have saved Lazarus if he had used the right time *).

*) Earlier critics asked, why do the Jews only remember the healing of the man born blind, why not rather the raising of the daughter Jairus and the young man of Nain? Why do they not think of more similar examples? Why do they fall for that heterogeneous and insufficient example? Probably, answers Strauss (L. I. ll, 172), the evangelist knew nothing of these events. No! he read these “events” or at least the reports of them in the writings of Mark and Luke, but he was not allowed to weave any reference to them into his work, because he had not excluded them himself. Besides, a reference to them would have been inappropriate in any case, since the Jews only think of the time when Lazarus was still lying on the sickbed, and never, at that time, would the physician have been able to help the blind man.

It therefore still comes down to Jesus weeping over the death of Lazarus, i.e. to a result which is excluded and made impossible by the whole other account. The account contains a very external contradiction, and its pragmatism is not even adequately carried out in itself and in its own presuppositions, since a merely momentary and, what is more, very external consideration induced the evangelist to add here precisely a feature that ought to have been missing. Nothing else induced the evangelist to make Jesus weep than his intention to help the Jews to speak and to make them say that if he had been here, he could have caused Lazarus not to die, especially since, as we now see, he loved him so much that he himself wept.

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His earlier note (v. 5) that Jesus loved Lazarus, the evangelist has thus here proved to be correct in a very inappropriate way.

In passing we still have to pay attention to the fact that Martha, when Jesus wants to have opened the grave, remarks: Lazarus already smells, because he has already been dead four days. Olshausen claims *) that this can only be taken as a supposition. As if the evangelist would give even the slightest hint that in the end it probably did not happen as Martha stated. But the theologian has his intentions and Olshausen is so open as to confess them. Instead of sticking to the simple understanding of these words, he says, it is far “simpler” – that is, not trickier? not crazier? – to suppose “that the corpse of Lazarus, precisely because it was to be revived, was preserved from decomposition according to God’s guidance. “Therefore it is easier, not because this assumption is founded in the report and its basic view, but because the theologian can no longer appropriate the view of the report, in short because he has private views, private intentions and wants to assert them in spite of the report.

*) So do all the newer believers. The presupposed occurrence of decay is inconvenient to them, and since, with their material interest in the event “and with their presupposition of the historical basis of the account, they believe that Martha could have been mistaken in her supposition, they do not notice that the evangelist, in his ideal work, wants to state the facts in such a way that he lets Martha say them.

“It would, says Olshausen, by animating an already decomposed corpse, give the miracle a monstrous character. “What a disbelief! As if every miracle were not in itself monstrous, since it dissolves the harmony of nature and transforms it into indissoluble dissonance! It is important to make the miracle certain! As if the evangelist did not for this reason overlook the fact that the corpse of Lazarus must surely be embalmed! Only then, when Lazarus was already a prey of decay, does it become certain beyond all doubt that Jesus had power over death; only then, when Lazarus has become completely like us all, who will one day be raised by the Lord, does his resurrection become what it should be, namely a symbol and guarantee of what the Lord will do now to the prey of sin and one day to the prey of sensual decay. The miracle must *) retain its monstrous character.

*) For, as Calvin rightly and truly says in v. 14: quo propius ad ordinariam naturae rationem accedunt, dei opera, eo magis vilescunt ac minus est illustris eorum gloria.

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Now, the last and most dreadful feature of the account! After the stone had been removed from the tomb, but before commanding Lazarus to come out, in this moment of preeminent certainty of his success, Jesus prays to the Father, thanking Him for having heard Him. He prays aloud, adding that he did not need to make supplication and thanksgiving to Him, as he was always certain of being heard, but that he prayed only for the sake of the people present, so that they might believe that He had sent Him. As if the miracle as such could not have instilled this conviction in Lazarus, and as if it had required such hasty and deliberate manipulation of the people!

A prayer which the praying man does not hold out of his own heart, not on his own impulse, but only for display before others, a prayer which the praying man disavows at the end in regard to his person, a prayer which dissolves at the end in irony upon itself, a prayer which thus also disavows even the others for the sake of which it is held, must leave cold, since they experience the intention of it, such a prayer is of the kind that – – that – – but let us strive, let us not be too much put out by such things! – it is the expression of the same religious irony in which the fourth evangelist is a kind of master, the irony that in all the circumstances in which Jesus is involved or voluntarily enters, he declares that he is beyond them; the expression of that lofty tendency of the fourth, who, putting the Lord – for once it cannot be otherwise! – in human situations, but is always careful to present this involvement as only apparent, it is the culmination of all the ironic contrasts we have found in our section; – it is the last means of once again impressing the faith quite strongly on the people and readers; it is a drumbeat, but not such a drumbeat as is a beneficent shock in a symphony after the repeated development of the melodic theme, but a horrible, barbaric drumbeat that tears our ears apart, destroys the instrument, a blow that shatters the whole, as it deserves no better, even if against the will of the holy artist!

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When a scarecrow has been torn to pieces, the intention for which it is set up has been seen, then nothing is left of it.

To the end, then!

 

4. Conclusion.


Before – but everything is cheerful! – a cheerful conclusion! Tholuck *) gives us for our recreation an example of truly theological language, way of thinking and logic. He calls our report “the narration of one of the most remarkable miraculous deeds of Jesus, which, because of the so irrefutable – do you hear the thunder? – you hear the thunder?, it has always been regarded as one of the most powerful proofs of the miraculous power of Christ.” (As an example of how powerful this proof is, how irrefutable this character of inner truth, he cites – yes, whom does he cite? – Spinoza, who once said that if he could convince himself of the resurrection of Lazarus, he would break his system into pieces, also felt this. Wonderful proof! Delicious proof! Excellent logic! Beautiful “too!”

*) Comm. p. 210.

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Of course, as a punishment for his stupid prank *) the theologian must now add a “of course,” he must, out of anger at the fact that not everyone feels as he does, rail against the malicious will, against obduracy, in short, against the “interior” of man unknown to him, who “of course is not able to rise above the laws of the earthly world to the contemplation of a higher order of things”! He must blaspheme a man like Spinoza, who always has the order of the idea in his conception, while the theologian is only concerned for his “maggot bag” and its needs; he must ridicule a man like Spinoza, who taught us to view things sub specie aeternitatis, while the theologian calls him a dog. In short, the theologian knows how to mock very comically! But for that, he still has his logic, his seraphic admiration of the fourth Gospel, his ‘this was also felt,’ and we leave him his ‘factum confirmed from all sides,’ without it costing us any particular effort. Furthermore, we even leave him his ‘excellent ascetic-psychological considerations,’ such as Ewald’s ‘Lazarus for educated Christ-worshippers.’  **) We want to give the theologians all their commentaries and lives of Jesus once we have completely destroyed them. We are not worthy of them anyway!”

*) as well as a punishment for having copied Bengel wrongly. Bengel says to C. 11, 4: Resuscitatio Lazari tantum est veritatis Christianae argumentum, ut Spinoza dixerit, se, si eam credere posset, totum suum systema abjecturum.  That can be heard at best: Bengel speaks of the meaning of the miracle itself, and Tholuck? – he has made the sentence meaningless by forcing in the modern, sentimental chatter about the vividness of the report. At the same time – thus also a proof, how Mark is edited by Matthew.

**) Tholuck, Comm. p. 211.

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Now another conclusion! But still funny!

The question, why only the fourth evangelist knows to report this awakening of Lazarus, why the synoptics know nothing about it – a question, which for our point of view is just as shabby, as the answers, which it has caused, are silly – this question we do not need to treat as something special or to answer with tricks, evasions or folly, after the secret of the origin of the gospels has been betrayed. The synoptics know nothing about this miracle, because it came into being after their time in the mind of the fourth evangelist and because they did not know his writing.

But with which means did the fourth one form his report? Answer: First of all from his religious irony, i.e. from his view moving in ironic contrasts. Then the first elements of his report are in the synoptic gospels. The behavior of Martha and Mary towards Jesus, of which he reads in Luke’s writing, is anxiously painted by the Fourth, but clumsily and without meeting the real relationship. But the main subject! the raising of a dead man. All three synoptics tell about the raising of a dead person and one of the key words of their report is that Jesus says that the dead person – the daughter of Jairus – is asleep. This trait, but again not understood and expressed in its true meaning, is processed by the fourth one to the statement of Jesus that Lazarus sleeps. In addition Luke, but he alone, reports of the revival of the young man of Nain. This young man appeared again in Lazarus, died and was raised again *).

*) Gfrörer (in “Das Heilige und die Wahrheit”, p. 317-318) says in another sense: “Lazarus is hidden among the youth of Nain.” “The Galilean legend (which has long since ceased for us), followed by Luke, has moved the story, which originally took place in Judea, to Galilee, their homeland, and gradually substituted the name of a Galilean village (Nain) for the Jewish one (Bethany).”

Through another, but the correct starting point, we have come to the opposite, but correct result.

Gfrörer says (ibid. p. 323), “the story of Lazarus is in its true historical context in John.” We saw that it stands here in fiction and is a ghost. Above, we saw that Luke and how he first formed the story of the youth of Nain.

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In Luke’s account (C. 7, 11 -17) the Lord meets the funeral procession at the gate outside the city and here Jesus raises the dead man. This is also the scene of the raising of Lazarus outside the town. The widow, the mother of the young man of Nain, became the abandoned sisters of Lazarus. A large crowd had followed her, so there were also many Jews with the sisters, and they followed Mary as she went to the Lord and witnessed the miracle. Jesus saith unto the young man of Nain, I say unto thee, Arise; so saith he unto Lazarus, Come forth, Lazarus. Jesus gives the young man of Nain to his mother, so he gives orders that Lazarus be freed from the shrouds so that he can go out to his own. Those present who saw the revival of the young man praised God, the Jews who witnessed the revival of Lazarus believed. “The fame of the revival of the young man spread throughout Judea and the surrounding area, as did the fame of the miracle of Lazarus, except that because of the time and the circumstances in which it happened, i.e. because of the pragmatism of the Fourth, it has dangerous and more significant consequences.

The Fourth allows a dead man to come back to life who had already been a prey to death for four days, thus already a prey to decay; Luke, in the young man of Nain, allows a dead man to be resuscitated who is already being carried to the grave; Mark, the original evangelist, only knows how to tell of the resuscitation of a dead man who had succumbed to an illness the moment before. Theologians always speak so much of the contrast between the canonical and the apocryphal, and they could already find this contrast in the four Gospels if their eyes were not too enlightened.

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But how – (think, what highly important questions the theologians treat all their life – – in the name of nonsense! when mankind will be finally overridden of these questions!) – Lazarus would not be a historical person? Did not he have Mary and Martha for sisters? – (how interesting! how important for the history of the world!) – What should the sisters do without him? – (the poor sisters!) – Did he not live in Bethany? – (What local knowledge! How extremely interesting) – Didn’t the Lord come to him before and after? — (Ei! Ei!) — What arbitrary, superficial criticism!

Quiet! Gentlemen! I ask you now: in the end Lazarus is not only a metamorphosis of the young man of Nain, in the end Abraham had other thoughts and sent Lazarus back on earth after all. The rich man once asked him to send Lazarus to his five brothers, so that he could testify to them and make them reflect; “for if one of the dead comes to them, they will repent. No,” Abraham answered, “if they do not hear Moses and the prophets, even if one of the dead rises, they will not believe. ” (Luke16, 27-31.)

In the end, Abraham changed his mind and, seeing that the resurrection of Christ could not force faith, did not consider it useless to send Lazarus back to the living so that they would repent. Or rather, in the end, for this holy purpose – but in spite of Abraham’s warning and wise remark – the fourth evangelist cited Lazarus.

All this will be answered when we consider the report of the anointing in Bethany, on which occasion it will also become clear from where the fourth evangelist drew the elements for his report of the adulteress.

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I have been reproached for declaring this account to be a genuine part of the fourth gospel. Luke will vindicate me. Everything has its time! There is nothing so small that it won’t eventually come to the surface!

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