2023-04-19

§ 43. The Election and Sending Out of the Twelve

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by Neil Godfrey

Critique of the Gospel History of the Synoptics
by Bruno Bauer

Volume 2

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173

Section Six.

The Instruction of the Twelve.

Matthew 9:35-11:1.

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§ 43.

The Election and Sending Out of the Twelve.

Matthew 9:35-10:5.

 

1. The Occasion.

Among the many unpleasant tasks that the critic must undertake in this final battle with apologetics, one of the least is that he finds himself compelled to explain at length things that are hardly worth proving and that are so clear and obvious in themselves that it only takes a single glance to grasp their true significance. But we must prove them – we must prove them in order to put an end to the theologian’s trade, and it is worth the effort to prove them because the entire world of the mind has been founded until now on these things, not even as they are in themselves, but as they have been wrongly understood and constructed by theologians. Of course, these foundations are no longer absolute truths when they are subjected to free human examination, but that should not stop us from examining them, since the state of the world cannot be founded on letters, let alone on twisted letters, and we cannot even pretend, as the theologian demands, to be despairing when we uncover the mystery of the letters, since in the freedom of self-consciousness we gain a new world and infinite compensation. Should we lament like degenerate slaves when the shackles fall from us, when we leave the prison, and cry out that we are allowed to call ourselves free?

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And Jesus, says Matthew (Ch. 9:35), went around to all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every disease and every affliction. Already this statement is as incomprehensible as it is inappropriate. “Jesus went around!” But since we were not told that he left Capernaum, that he embarked on a journey and was now in the midst of it, we cannot conceive of him “wandering about.” Matthew had only told us that Jesus (Ch. 9:27) left the house of Jairus and on the way healed the two blind men and the demon-possessed mute person – how could he now be in the middle of a long journey?

Just as we are suddenly thrown from specificity – “Jesus leaves the house of Jairus” – into the broadest vagueness – “he goes around to all the cities and villages,” the Evangelist suddenly throws us back from indefinite generality to individual specificity. But when Jesus, he says in verse 36, saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples in verse 37-38, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Therefore, ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest field.” “The crowds!” What kind of crowds? Well, we weren’t even told that the crowd had gathered around him. If one were to say that when it is reported earlier that Jesus healed all diseases and afflictions, the presence of the crowd is assumed, that still does not help the matter, because firstly, the multitude that gathered around him in every city is not “this specific multitude” or if it is the same one that Jesus now saw, he had already seen it, and the sight of it could not now bring him to that remark and expression. But it is supposed to be the specific crowd that Jesus only saw now, i.e., the one whose arrival and intentions the Evangelist did not inform us about.

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The account is unmotivated and incomprehensible in all places: of course, because its motives lie in the writings of Mark and Luke. Immediately after the resurrection of Jairus’s daughter, Luke reports (C. 9, 1.) that Jesus called the twelve together and sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick, after giving them power and authority over all demons and diseases. Matthew follows Luke and, like him, connects both events, but takes offense at a part of the report he read in the writing of his predecessor. A part! He does not lead his reflection into the specific question of how Jesus could so conveniently go into the wilderness near Bethsaida with them after the return of the sent-out disciples (V. 10.), since it was not stated before that he had gone near that city; but that did not seem appropriate or natural to him that Luke made the transition from the resurrection of Jairus’s daughter to the sending of the apostles so bald and inadequate and gave the latter incident no special background. Therefore, he seeks advice in the writing of Mark. Here he finds that Jesus goes on a journey after the resurrection of Jairus’s daughter (και εξηλθεν εχεοθεν), comes to Nazareth, preaches here, but is rejected by his fellow countrymen. Luke had to omit this report, Matthew does the same, as he hurries to the instruction of the apostles. At the end of Mark’s narrative, however, he finds the note that Jesus traveled to the villages in the surrounding area *); he liked this note and it seemed to be a suitable background for the following incident, he writes it down and does not notice that it does not stand in its place if it was not previously stated that Jesus had gone on a journey. When Jesus teaches, according to Matthew, who abstractly considers everything and likes to use general, comprehensive formulas, he must also heal. He now writes down the same words that he had already used as an introduction to the Sermon on the Mount and that are partly an excerpt from the historical introduction that Mark has given to the account of the selection of the Twelve **). Finally, Matthew wants to precede the instruction and sending out of the Twelve with their historical occasion: but where should he get it from? In the Gospel of Luke, he reads that when Jesus selected and sent ahead the seventy, he said to them: “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few, therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest.” Now, is the size of the harvest and the shortage of workers not the best reason for Jesus to decide to teach and send out the apostles to harvest? So it seemed to Matthew, and he therefore puts these words of the Lord in the introduction and must now also create an occasion for Jesus to speak of the harvest and the lack of workers. He writes outright that Jesus saw the crowds, and he even writes, quite fittingly, since the misery of the people demanded the comfort of the Gospel and apostolic help! – the remark by Mark that when Jesus saw the crowds, he felt compassion for them because they were like sheep without a shepherd ***). But only Mark makes it understandable to us how Jesus could see the crowds and how they even came before his eyes: he had once seen them as he crossed the lake, so they hurried to the landing place and thus came to him first, and when he landed and got off, he saw the crowd. In Matthew’s account, however, the crowd suddenly appears, and we do not know where it comes from or how Jesus could see anything of which there was no mention of its appearance. Mark says that Jesus taught the crowd much – his pity for their misery opened his heart and gave him the words of comfort – and then, when it was already late, he miraculously fed them. Luke, who is generally brief in this section, says nothing about Jesus feeling compassion for the crowd, he only says that he welcomed them (δεξαμενοσ αυτους), spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed it (Luke 9:11). Later, when he comes to the account of the miraculous feeding, Matthew combines the accounts of his predecessors: he writes again after Mark that Jesus, when he saw the crowd, felt compassion, but he does not take care to write why he had this feeling, nor does he say that Jesus, to lift up the abandoned people and give them spiritual support again, opened the treasure of his teaching, but writes according to Luke that he healed their sick (Matthew 14:14). He has thus provided us with the final proof that he has used Mark’s scripture here as before, but has not used it successfully, because if he had not told us in chapter 9, verse 36 where the crowd came from, this time in chapter 14, verse 14 he did not motivate the feeling of compassion that Jesus felt and gave it a false direction by referring it to physical illnesses rather than the spiritual and historical misery of the people.

*) Mark 6:6: και περιήγε τας κώμας κύκλω διδάσκων. Matthew 9:35: και περιήγεν ο Ι. τας πόλεις πάσας και τας κώμας διδάσκων.

**) Matthew 4:23 (και περιήγεν …) διδάσκων εν ταϊς συναγωγαίς αυτών και κηρύσσων το ευαγγέλιον της βασιλείας και θεραπεύων πά- σαν νόσον και πάσαν μαλακίαν. Literally the same as 9:35. Matthew 5:1 ιδών δε τους όχλους. 9:36 ιδών δε τους όχλους.

***) Mark 6:24: και εξελθών είδεν ο Ι. πολύν όχλον και έσπλαγχνίσθη επ’ αυτοίς· ότι ήσαν ως πρόβατα μη έχοντα ποιμένα. Matthew 9:36: ιδών δε τους όχλους εσπλαγχνίσθη περί αυτών, ότι ήσαν έσκυλμένοι και ερριμμένοι ωσεί πρ. μη έχ. ποιμ. Compare Jerem. 14, 16: ἔσονται ἐρριμμένοι ἐν ταῖς όδοις.

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Matthew has therefore not informed us about the occasion on which Jesus called the Twelve and sent them out after instruction, and it is even questionable whether he wanted to report on the calling and initial election of the Twelve at all in this moment.


2. The Calling of the Apostles.

No! He does not want to present the matter as if the Twelve were chosen only now *), how else could he say that Jesus called “the Twelve” to him, the Twelve whom he must have had around him for a longer time as this designated group of disciples, before they could be referred to as “his twelve disciples” **)! While some are content with this exegetical remark, others who like to see their own theories confirmed by the letter and do not ask what the writer actually wrote, but only have in mind what he had to write to please them, go so far as to say that not even Luke, although he apparently distinguishes between the calling of the Twelve (ch. 6, 13) and their mission (ch. 9, 1), knows anything about a calling of them. Only Mark, who misunderstood the information of his predecessor Luke, really speaks of an election and calling of the Twelve. Luke, however, does not, for, as Schleiermacher argues, “no matter how much the word “after he had chosen” – εκλεξαμενος απ’ αυτων δωδεκα – Luk 6:13, may appear to designate the selection and appointment of the apostles in their definite relationship to Christ, the context is not at all favourable to this appearance. “After he had chosen” – εκλεξαμενος – stands with the other “after he had come down” – καραβας – so exactly connected between the indication: “he called them to him” – προςεφωνησε – and the other: “he stood there” – εστη – that it cannot possibly express a great, solemn, and very important act.” And, Schleiermacher adds, would such an important act be described with a mere participle phrase or casually indicated with a wording that only reluctantly instructs the reader where to imagine this act as having taken place? Surely, Saunier remarks *), “Luke does not want to report a solemn installation that was too important for Jesus to have perceived so hastily when descending from the mountain.” Well, then Luke may justify it if he portrays the matter as if Jesus had hastily called the Twelve, or if he only “casually **)” adds the note of the “selection” of the apostles! First, however, we must protect him against a misunderstanding that makes his representation more flawed than it really is: he does not say that Jesus chose the Twelve “when descending from the mountain,” but still up on the mountain, after he had spent the night in prayer; nor does it even occur to him to say ***), that Jesus had “gathered the Twelve on a slope of the mountain.” Schleiermacher and his followers now believe that Jesus called the twelve only for the purpose of bringing them to his proximity, so that they could serve him among the crowds that were streaming towards him. However, later, when he heals the crowds of sick people, we hear nothing about why he needed this proximity, and when he delivers the sermon that Matthew has made into the Sermon on the Mount, we do not see that it had a special relationship to the disciples, although he initially directs his gaze towards them. But we free ourselves and Luke’s account from all these torturous interpretations when we note that Jesus called his disciples early in the morning after a sleepless night and chose the twelve before he knew anything about the crowds that had gathered below in the plain – how could he have known anything about these crowds, since even Luke did not know how to explain their sudden presence in the plain?

*) de Wette, l, 1, 97.

**) so also explained Fritzsche, Matth, p. 357. 

***) a. a. O. p. 84.

*) p. 64.

**) as Neander says, loc. cit. p. 147.

***) as Neander thinks, ibid.

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Luke wants to report the calling of the twelve apostles, just like Mark did. Why else would he add the remark that Jesus called them “apostles” or why else would he list the names of the twelve and interrupt the narrative, which rushes on to the following speech, so unnaturally? But he must be responsible alone for reporting such an important event in a participle construction and so quickly – although the list of apostles always presents a very inconvenient hindrance to the intended progress of the narrative – sending the Lord down from the mountain to the crowd in the valley.

Matthew also wants to report the first calling and election of the twelve at the same moment when he sends them out. It is true: he already assumes the existence of this narrower circle of disciples when he says, “Jesus called ‘his twelve disciples'” (C. 10, 1). However, the fact that he could speak at all, and when it comes to this topic, think of “the twelve” as ready and available, was only possible because he is the latest and thus stands from the outset in the view of the community, which is familiar with the twelve and the solemn surroundings of the Lord. Even Luke was able to mention the calling of the twelve only incidentally and in passing, but the first, Mark, knew that if the Gospel were to speak of the twelve, their election had to be reported as a special act. Despite all the abstraction of his perspective, however, Matthew was not so sure that he would immediately fall from the clouds with the note of the sending of the disciples and say something like, “Jesus called his twelve and sent them out among the people” – only Mark was allowed to speak like that (C. 6, 7), because he had previously reported their election – on the contrary, Matthew feels very well that he has to catch up with a not unimportant little thing before he can say that Jesus sent the twelve out. He therefore reports beforehand what purpose the twelve had received from their Lord and what their names are; thus he confuses both, the note of their election and sending, and that he has combined both is proven to us redundantly in the way he mixes the information of Mark about the purpose and actual equipment of the twelve with each other. “He gave them, he says 10, 1, authority over the unclean spirits, so that they could cast them out and heal every disease and every weakness.” Either the power over unclean spirits should be the same that gave them the ability to heal every other disease — but those are just other diseases that have nothing to do with demons — or the power over the other diseases should still be a separate one, but in this case, the word “power” would be too separate from the other part of the sentence: “and that they could heal every disease.” Now read how Mark writes properly and naturally (3:14,14): “they were to have the authority to heal sicknesses and to cast out demons **).” That’s the right way, and that’s how a man writes who doesn’t look at another scripture or even at different passages of a foreign scripture before putting his pen in motion. Now Mark can later briefly mention when he reports the sending out of the twelve, “Jesus gave them authority over unclean spirits ***),” and they drove out many demons and healed many sick people, for now Jesus gives them the power that he had already designated for them, and they actually exercise it. Luke had to work partly the same way as Matthew, he reports how Jesus chose the twelve, but he couldn’t say what authority the Lord had intended for them because he had to hurry to bring the company from the mountain to the plain, but when he reports the sending out of the twelve later, he combines the information from Mark better than Matthew and now says in chapter 9, verse 1: he gave them power and authority over all demons and diseases *).

*) έδωκεν αυτοίς εξουσίαν πνευμάτων ακαθάρτων, ώστε εκβάλλειν αυτά και θεραπεύειν πάσαν νόσον και πάσαν μαλακίαν.

**) έχειν εξουσίαν θεραπεύειν τας νόσους και εκβάλλειν τα δαιμόνια.

***) C. 6, 7 εδίδου αυτοίς εξουσίας των πνευμάτων των ακαθάρτων.

*) έδωκεν αυτοίς δύναμιν και εξουσίαν επί πάντα τα δαιμόνια και νόσους θεραπεύειν.

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If the proof did not have to be grounded from all sides, we could have said from the outset: Matthew had to merge the account of the election and sending of the twelve in this confused manner because he had combined the second and fourth sections of Mark’s account of Jesus’ public activity into one in his two-day work, had skipped the third section, which included the election of the twelve, and now comes to the account of the sending of the twelve after the fourth section. Here he really stops, but cannot help looking back at the report of the first election, and so it was natural that he combined the elements of both reports so clumsily, as he did.

Only in passing do we note how another feature of the progression from the original, free, and unprejudiced to the positive and firm can be demonstrated. Mark only says that Jesus “appointed” the twelve to be with him and to send them out **), Luke says Jesus had already called the twelve apostles himself, and Matthew finally reports that Jesus had “called” the twelve, and as if it were self-evident that the men who the church at the time called “the apostles” had always been called that, he introduces the list of their names with the words: “The names of the twelve apostles are as follows” (Matt. 10:2).

**) ίνα αποστέλλη αυτούς Mark 3, 14.

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We will not discuss the apostle list that the three Synoptics provide in greater detail here, since some difficulties can only be resolved later, when we deal with the origin of the Gospels in general, as far as possible. Here we only note that all three lists place Peter at the head, naming Judas, whom they expressly designate as the betrayer, last. Already from this contrast it is clear that Peter is named first because of a special dignity – Matthew, the latest, even draws the reader’s attention to this point about Peter by saying “first” Peter – and that it was the hierarchical significance that gave the apostle the first place in the list. Mark already found the twelve names and among them the name of Peter in possession of the first place.

First, we reflect on some additions that interrupt the list of names. “To Simon,” says Mark (3:16), “he gave the name Peter.” Luke notes the same thing by naming Simon, but neither of them tells us when and on what occasion Jesus gave the apostle Peter this nickname. Matthew, on the other hand, simply says “Simon, called Peter” (10:2) in the list, but later tells us that the rock-solid faith of the disciple prompted the Lord to give him this name. Later we will see if Matthew had more detailed information than his predecessors.

“And the two sons of Zebedee,” Mark continues (v. 17), “he named Boanerges, that is, sons of thunder,” as the evangelist adds himself. Neither Luke nor Matthew included this note in their catalog, of course, says Wilke *), because they did not read it in Mark’s scripture. It is a later addition because, asks Wilke, is it not striking that in the list as provided by Luke and Matthew, Andrew immediately follows his brother Simon Peter, while in Mark he only appears after the sons of thunder and only received a later place “so that this nickname could be added”? However, this reason is not tenable – indeed, if Mark always paired two names together without any connection, as the others did, then the matter would be more questionable and we would indeed have to say that Simon and his brother Andrew were unnaturally separated by that addition. But he makes a separate start with each name, before each one he uses the particle “and,” so what harm is it if the two brothers are separated once, especially if he had an interest in mentioning at the beginning those apostles who had received a remarkable nickname from the Lord? And does he not seem to have had this interest if he starts the list so abruptly with the remark: “And he gave Simon the name Peter”? Is it any wonder then that he immediately cites two others who also received a nickname from their master, and if Andrew is separated from his brother for a moment this time? The addition seems genuine and original. Luke did not include it in the list because he later turned it into a separate story in chapter 9, verse 54, and Matthew omitted it because he does not want to represent the Lord as giving names at that moment.

*) p. 673

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The other difficulty, that the names in the lists are not all the same, cannot prompt us to unhappy attempts at solutions anymore, since we have already seen how casually and carelessly the evangelists dealt with these highly important matters. The first evangelist had turned Levi into the Matthew of the apostle list, and this into a tax collector, so what was not possible for him and his colleagues? Or should we imitate him now and, like the apologists, be amazed that the Nathanael of the fourth evangelist is not in the list, and boldly claim that this Nathanael is the Bartholomew whom the Synoptics, no! only Luke and Matthew – because Mark doesn’t list him yet – list together with Philip? We wouldn’t even do that if the Synoptics reported that Bartholomew was born in Bethsaida, because the historical existence of Nathanael would have to be better established, we would have to have more reliable information about him than the fourth evangelist offers us, and he would have to be a better guarantor in such matters, as he has not yet proven to be. So let us not cause ourselves and the Synoptics any more trouble with Nathanael, as they already have such great concerns among themselves; for can they and us get into greater difficulties than when Matthew lists a Lebbaeus instead of Thaddaeus of Mark, and Luke even lists a Judas of James? It would be very easy, indeed, if we wanted to help ourselves and the evangelists with the verdict that all three names belonged to one and the same person; but we leave the glory of creating this tripartite person to the apologists and only note that the similarity of the name could easily have tempted the latest of the Synoptics to add the name Lebbaeus instead of Thaddaeus. But how Luke came to blacken his Judas of James in the list of apostles, whether he had a special interest in doing so, i.e. whether there was such a Judas known at his time whom he liked to see among the apostles, this we will have to examine later when we look for the time in which the Gospels were written.

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3. The Sending and Return of the Twelve.

While Matthew has combined both the calling and sending of the Twelve into one act and narrates the calling in such a way that it cannot compete with the greater interest of the sending, he now suffers on the other hand that the sending does not make itself felt as such and finally converges into a mere calling and instruction. Indeed, he wants to report the sending of the Twelve (v. 5…) but does he then say at the end, when Jesus’ instruction speech is over, “And so they went home and preached repentance and drove out demons and healed many sick people *)?” No! Matthew says that Jesus went away from there, after he had finished the speech to the disciples – we do not know from where – to teach and preach in their towns. As if everyone should expect to hear now: so the disciples went out to preach and heal. The evangelist must have had good reasons to suppress this conclusion, which everyone expected, this conclusion that must have been on his mind and that he reads in Mark’s scripture, and to transform it into a completely different one. And he really had very strong reasons. Firstly, Jesus’ speech is so long that one can easily forget the note in v. 5; it takes into account, if we may mention this, circumstances that lie so far in the future that it would almost seem adventurous if the disciples went out only to the Jewish towns and villages after such far-reaching instructions. Finally, both Mark and Luke let the disciples return very soon; between the news of their departure and their return, they only insert the note that King Herod became aware of Jesus at that time and suspected that he might be the resurrected John the Baptist, whom he had had beheaded. But before he gets to Herod, Matthew reports the message of the Baptist and a series of complications with the Pharisees, in which the disciples also play a role; so may the Twelve leave, may the Lord even be left alone for such a long period of time? Even if the disciples are not personally important for those conflicts with the Pharisees, they must not be absent for this reason alone, so that the Lord has the environment without which the evangelists cannot think of him. And how necessary the disciples are when the parables follow in chapter 13, which gave them such important questions and occasion for new teachings from the Lord! They must not depart, Matthew had to let the instruction speech have a different conclusion than the one prescribed by Mark, but the conclusion he formed remains inappropriate because it does not satisfy the expectation that every reader must have had.

*) this is how Mark 6, 12 closes his report: και εξελθοντες εκηρυσσον ινα μετανοησωσιν και δαιμονια πολλα εξεβαλλον και ηλειφον ελαιω πολλους αρρωστους και εθεραπευον. The same says Luke C. 9, 6 εξερχομενοι δε διηρχοντο κατα τας κωμας ευαγγελιζομενοι και θεραπευοντες πανταχου. Matt. 11:1 μετεβη εκειθεν του διδασκειν και κηρυσσειν εν ταις πολεσιν αυτων.  One still notices how this αυτών hovers in the air and affects a specificity that fundamentally determines nothing. Indeed, the αυτοι are the people in whose land Jesus traveled around; but there was no mention of them before. Not even the place where Jesus gave the instructional speech had been determined beforehand. Fritzsche refers αυτων to the disciples who were mentioned immediately before (Matth, p. 393.): Qui αυτων de Galilaeis sumunt, summam scriptori negligentiam obtrudunt. But can he not be careless once in a while? Must he write crazily and call the cities of Galilee the cities of the disciples? He wrote the αυτων in his thoughtless manner, imparting a specificity to his presentation that is motivated by nothing and truly groundless. This time, he was grasping for this specificity because he wanted to give the concluding remark (V. 1.) a firm ground, but of course he could not succeed in doing so.

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The evangelist had to forcefully change things in another place if he did not want to create a new story or if he could not completely break away from Mark’s account. However, he oscillates between the state of freedom and slavery – he barely frees himself from the letter, and then he has to submit to it again.

Finally, after inserting chapters 11-13, he comes to the note about Herod, which Mark immediately follows with the account of the departure of the Twelve. He also tells us that Herod heard about Jesus at that time and expressed the suspicion that he was the Baptist who had risen from the dead. If he continues in chapter 14, verse 3, “For Herod had seized John and bound him and put him in prison, for the sake of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because John had been saying to him, ‘It is not lawful for you to have her,'” we immediately understand that the fact that the prince speaks of the Baptist as if he were dead (in Mark’s account, the fact that Herod had the Baptist beheaded) must be explained, and thus the narrative must go back to a long-elapsed time. We must therefore be extremely surprised when the remote past and the present touch each other directly at the end of this account. “His [that is, John’s] disciples came and took the body and buried it, and they went and told Jesus. Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself.” From there! We don’t know where? Although Matthew has reported that Jesus was poorly received in Nazareth before (13:53-58), he did not say that he left from there. So can he immediately withdraw across the sea to the desert from there? But that is just a trifle compared to the other difficulties. The beheading of the Baptist has long since happened and is assumed to have happened when Herod suspects in Jesus the risen John; the account of the unfortunate end of the Baptist is even referred to as such by the introduction (“For Herod had seized John and bound him and put him in prison, for the sake of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because John had been saying to him, ‘It is not lawful for you to have her'”) as one that catches up on the past in order to explain the present – the suspicion of Herod – and yet suddenly at the end of the narrative the past appears as present when the disciples of the Baptist bury the body of their master, report the incident to Jesus, and he is moved to flee to the desert! Impossible! More than impossible, since Herod’s suspicion that Jesus might be the risen Baptist is not characterized as one that would have arisen from a malicious attitude towards the Lord or that would have been associated with one. And now the disciples of the Baptist! We must marvel when we see how they go to the Lord, as if it were self-evident that they must go to Jesus immediately after the death of their master and join him. We must be even more amazed because we hear nothing about such a close relationship between both groups either before or afterwards, nor do we hear anything about the disciples of John being in Jesus’ entourage after the death of their master.

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One need not yet be convinced of the priority of the Gospel of Mark; but if one just yields to the impression of the natural narration of the primal evangelist and performs an almost mechanical operation – an operation that is no more and no less mechanical than the procedure of Matthew – the manner in which the report, no! the confusion of the first Gospel has arisen becomes clear. The parenthesis in which he explains Herod’s statement – “he is John, whom I had beheaded” – and recalls the past, Mark (6:29) concludes with the words: “And his disciples came and took up the body and buried it.” And the apostles, Mark continues (6:30), came together to Jesus and reported to him everything they had done and taught, and he said to them: “Come, let us go to the wilderness and rest a little!” That is, rest, because here (6:31) the crowd is so great that you cannot gather and recover properly. Matthew was very embarrassed when he came to this point of the original Gospel, he had not reported on the departure of the disciples, he could not report it; but here he still reads about an arrival of the disciples – what was to be done then? He did not hesitate for long, could not even contemplate it, for in his embarrassment he could not even scrutinize the report closely – the elements of it – that disciples are mentioned, that there is talk of receiving a message, of arriving at Jesus, of delivering a report – all flowed together for him and so now the disciples of the Baptist, of whom we have just spoken, come to Jesus after paying their last respects to their master, report to him what needed to be reported, and after receiving the message, he retreats into the wilderness.

*) Mark 6:29-30: και ακούσαντες οι μαθηταί αυτού ήλθον και ήραν το πτώμα αυτού και έθηκαν αυτό εν μνημείω. Και συνάγονται οι απόστολοι προς τον Ι. και απήγγειλαν αυτώ πάντα, όσα εποίησαν και όσα εδίδαξαν. και είπεν αυτοίς…. Matthew 14:12-13: και προςελθόντες οι μαθηταί αυτού ήραν το σώμα και έθαψαν αυτό και ελθοντες απηγγειλαν τω ιησου και ακουσας ο ιησους . . . . Compare Wilke p. 623.

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Matthew was more mistaken than Luke, but even with his account, it is not entirely correct. The disciples, as he says in chapter 9, verse 6, went out, preached, and healed. Herod (verses 7-9) becomes aware of Jesus and speaks of having beheaded John the Baptist. Then (verse 10), the disciples return from their journey, report what they have done, and Jesus takes them and retreats with them into the wilderness. We cannot yet attribute to Luke’s account any error for not telling us why Jesus withdraws with the disciples into seclusion, but it was not right of him not to tell his readers anything about how the beheading of the Baptist had occurred. What are his readers to think when they suddenly hear Herod’s statement without knowing what it refers to? Could he have expected them to fill the gap in his account from the writing of his predecessor? Certainly not! Otherwise, he would have had to omit much else. He was mistaken before when he put together everything he knew about the fate of the Baptist in the wrong place, in chapter 3, verses 19-20. He had taken an excerpt from the later account of Mark and reported why Herod had imprisoned the Baptist. He could not report the same thing twice. When he came to that account of Mark’s, he left it out, but he could not have given a complete excerpt at that earlier place either, for it was already inappropriate that he mentioned the imprisonment of the Baptist before describing the baptism of Jesus. It would have become even more inappropriate if he had already reported on the execution of the Baptist before he had baptized Jesus – so he could no longer help himself, and the gap had to remain since he could not freely master the details of his predecessor’s account. We think that if he found the account of the Baptist’s suffering later in Mark’s writing, he should not have left it out just because he had already spoken of the relationship between the Baptist and Herod and Herodias. He should have described the last fate of John in a parenthesis with a free and bold turn, no matter how it turned out. But he did not see that far, he was not free from the letter. His gaze was only fixed on the fact that he had spoken of Herod, Herodias, and the imprisonment of John, he only thinks of that, and so he now also leaves out what he had not yet copied but would have been very welcome to his readers. For now, they do not know what to make of it when they suddenly hear of the beheading of the Baptist as if it were a long-past event and have not heard anything about the matter itself.

191

We are gradually approaching the point where the question arises of what we should think about the credibility of the accounts of the calling and sending of the twelve disciples, as we are about to recognize the original report in its simplicity and purity. Just one more moment and it has risen above the other two in its originality and ideal power.

Mark says (6:7) that Jesus sent out the disciples in pairs (two by two). Matthew simply says that Jesus sent out the twelve, and he could not say more, for he did not have the opportunity to report on their actual departure and later return. Therefore, he also could not describe the sending so precisely and vividly that the reader would become completely engaged in the matter and could demand news of the outcome. In the way that Matthew writes, “these twelve Jesus sent out,” and at the same time allows the Lord’s speech to extend to the farthest and most complex situations and entanglements, the matter remains just in that suspension and becomes so transcendent and lifted beyond the present moment that the reader has almost forgotten the limited reason for Jesus’ speech by the end.

192

Also Luke also says nothing about Jesus sending the Twelve out in pairs. Where he finds them in Mark, he omits this specific note, but not without intention, for he wants to use it later when he tells us that the Lord also selected seventy others and sent them out in pairs ahead of him to every town and place where he himself was about to go (Luke 10:1). Seventy? Thirty-five pairs? Yes, seventy!

 

4. The calling, sending, and return of the seventy.

We ask the apologist, who must become incensed when we express our certainty that Jesus never thought of drawing such a strange group of seventy around him beside the Twelve, to kindly solve the following difficulties for us: we must confess that they are too great for our understanding.

Mark knows nothing of the seventy, Matthew did not think it worth the trouble to mention them, although he became familiar with them through Luke, and we are to blame if we explicitly describe a note that Matthew sufficiently respects by ignoring it? When Luke has the Twelve depart, he does not say that Jesus sent them out in pairs. But if he now uses this detail for his story of the seventy, where did he get it? From his own specific, only accessible information? Ah! why do we ask: he got it from Mark’s scripture, from a scripture that knows nothing of these seventy.

193

Jesus also delivers a speech to the seventy before dismissing them, giving them instructions on how to behave during their journey. However, the core of the speech consists of the same sentences that form the speech Jesus gives to the twelve, which Luke has already transcribed from Mark when he sent the twelve out (Luke 9:3-5). At the earlier occasion, Luke had not yet transcribed the entire speech from his predecessor’s scripture, nor had he worked out the individual instructions as carefully and in as much detail as he does now, when he reworks them into a speech for the seventy. But, we must ask the apologists, could Jesus not say anything different to the seventy than he had already said to the twelve? Was the purpose of the seventy so completely identical to that of the twelve that he had to give them both the same instructions? Impossible! If such a group of seventy existed, they had to form a mediator between Jesus and the people in a completely different way than the twelve did, so their purpose had to be completely different.

However, the speech to the seventy does contain new elements. “The harvest is plentiful,” Jesus immediately says at the beginning (Luke 10:2), “but the workers are few. Therefore, ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest field.” But how can it be said that the workers are few when seventy have been found again, and how can this be said to the seventy who are standing in a circle around the Lord? Seventy! What a multitude! What kind of workers must they be if the Lord deems them worthy to send them into the harvest field! Seventy! They are to ask that the Lord of the harvest send out workers? Ask, when there are already so many there? Ask, when their duty should have been to set their hands in motion and bind sheaves? The seventy themselves are a freely formed creation of Luke’s; they are the symbol of the later workers who brought in the divine harvest, and when these seventy appeared, it was to satisfy the growing need for workers everywhere, where the twelve were no longer sufficient as a model for their successors. In short, they appeared to satisfy the universal view of the community, which wanted to see the example of their countless heroes of faith in the Lord’s vicinity. The idea that guided him when he summoned this army of messengers of salvation, Luke has developed, somewhat clumsily, by recommending to the seventy the request for many workers as the beginning of Jesus’ speech. “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Therefore, ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers,” and behold, the seventy are there, as the evangelist commands, and strangely enough, they must hear the wish of their creator, a wish that was only appropriate when they themselves were not yet created.

194

“Go, continues the speech, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves” (Luke 10:3). This could certainly be said of later messengers of salvation who went out into a foreign, hostile world, but not of the Seventy who were at home in Palestine and went ahead of the Lord to the cities he himself wanted to visit. Jesus could not possibly call these cities wolf dens, especially at a time when the battle against the gospel had not yet begun. Or were there really wolves gathering in large numbers everywhere the Lord went, no matter where he went? The crowds that gathered everywhere he came were from cities where wolves lived?

And now we are supposed to believe that Jesus always sent the Seventy ahead of him to the cities and villages he wanted to visit! But if their only message as these forerunners was to say, “The kingdom of God has come near to you” (v. 9), then Jesus could wait until he himself came to the city and could bring the good news himself. What an unnecessary formality to announce oneself and the arrival of the kingdom of God in advance when he would soon arrive in the city himself! How hasty, as if the good news did not always come in its own time, when he himself would bring it personally, and how adventurous, anxious, and painful, as if Jesus had worked so diligently to win converts in every city! If we are to imagine that Jesus ran hastily into all the cities and even sent forerunners ahead of him to prepare the people for his arrival, he becomes a dogmatist, a theoretician, who anxiously cares for the spread of his “teaching,” and then he is no longer the man who is sure of the infinity of his self-consciousness and calmly excludes the treasure of his inner self when the opportunity presents itself – calmly and confidently without anxious polypragmosyne, knowing that this infinity, which has gone out of his self-consciousness, cannot be forgotten in the world once he has revealed it to others without noise and as it happens, and must also arise in others. Imagine this man with his calmness, self-assurance, and boldness of conviction, and alongside him, if you will and dare, the other, who is driven around restlessly and uncertainly in all the cities of the country, and who, out of impatience and uncertainty, drives the crowds of the Twelve and the Seventy ahead of him so that no city is left where the wolves are not provoked and enraged. Just think what an image emerges when we take these evangelical accounts seriously, instead of repeating them tautologically in a couple of other phrases, as the apologists do!

195

And then, one may try to make us understand how Jesus could always send the Seventy in pairs ahead to the city he wanted to visit. If he sent them in pairs, the individual pairs would have to go separate ways and together as a whole, they would have to visit at least thirty-five cities. Then we wouldn’t know how the Lord could manage to visit all these cities himself to give the finishing touch to the work of his messengers. However, if he sent them in pairs always ahead to the city he was about to visit, it was unnecessary to send them in pairs, and they would all together create alarm in the city, and then the patchwork of Luke’s account would fall apart nicely – the combination of Mark’s account of the sending out of the Twelve and the other Old Testament-derived note of the Seventy.

196

Luke did not understand how to properly integrate and structure his new contribution to the gospel story, to the point where he initially presents the matter (Luke 10:1) as if it was Jesus’ custom to always send out the seventy ahead of him, and then later (v.17) suddenly makes this sending a specific event by saying, “When the seventy returned, they joyfully reported, ‘Lord, even the demons obey us when we use your name!'” Luke forgets so quickly what he has just written that he speaks of a specific return of the seventy, while he had just said that Jesus always sent them ahead to the city he was about to visit, meeting them there soon after.

And what does it mean that when the seventy returned, they had nothing more important to report than the discovery that even the demons obeyed them? Had they nothing more significant to report about their journey or their experience of apostolic life? No! Because earlier (Luke 9:6) Luke had reserved the note that the twelve also cast out demons on their expedition (Mark 6:13) for his report of the seventy, and so now they must return to their Lord with the message that the demons are subject to them, so that the reader learns that they had the same power as the twelve, even if they were not explicitly given power over demons at the time of their sending (v.9).

197

If the Seventy no longer belong to history, then of course there can be no more talk of Jesus making the statement attributed to him by Luke (C. 10, 18-20.) in response to their joyful news of the demons’ subjection. But perhaps these words were spoken on another occasion? Let’s take a look! “I saw,” Jesus replies to the triumphant Seventy, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven,” i.e., these words have their true position where they are and – were spoken, i.e., don’t be surprised that the demons cannot resist you, for the devil has lost his power, he is fallen and his associates are subject to the power of faith. “I give you authority,” Jesus continues, “to trample on snakes and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy.” Did the present saying need, in addition to the certainty of the community that all demonic and hostile power had no significance for them anymore *), the reminder that Jesus had spoken these words or similar ones for it to find its place here? Only the superstition of the traditional hypothesis can imagine that Jesus ever said he would give his followers the power to tread on snakes and scorpions **), and only this superstition can make it seem impossible that a saying about the fall of Satan could be found in a gospel if the writer, the writer! did not have the most accurate information that Jesus had spoken on this point in just this way or in a similar way.

*) Cf. John 12, 3!.

**) About Mark 16, 17-18 later!

Luke, i.e., a writer who could be carried away at any moment to the most distant or even opposite places, was only capable of following up one statement which praises power over demonic spirits with another which greatly diminishes the miraculous activity. But about this, it says, “Do not rejoice that the demons are subject to you, but rather rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Luke could not help but form this saying for the consolation of those who did not understand how to cast out demons and trample on snakes and scorpions, and to write it here in the wrong place, where it spoils the point of the previous context.

198

The Seventy are no longer in our way, the matter is simplified, and now the question is what is in it itself.



5. The Original Account and its Origin.

The idea that Jesus sent out the Twelve on a mission trip is initially such a difficult one to imagine aesthetically – for Jesus appears far too isolated if all Twelve are traveling – that Weisse can find no way to help but to assert that this sending out “should not be taken as a single event that occurred at a specific time, but as a habitual action that happened repeatedly”; Jesus did not “send out all Twelve pairs at the same time, but always two at a time, so that he kept the rest near him *).” But this is not how Mark sees it, on whose account Weisse believes he can rely. Although Mark 6:7 says, “And he called to him the twelve and began to send them out **),” he does not mean to say that now an action happened for the first time that later was repeated and became a habit; the phrase “he began” rather has no other purpose than to form the transition to a particular event that now occurs and starts *) and, as will be noted later, remains a single event. For it is clear that the sending out only happened once and was the only one from which the disciples returned at that time when the miracle of feeding occurred shortly thereafter (Mark 6:30-33). “He began to send them out” therefore only serves to introduce the following narrative and, in particular, to trace the development of this new event from stage to stage. “He began” – as Luther aptly translated – to send them out two by two: this is the beginning of the action or the general plan that is carried out in the following moments, that Jesus gives them authority over unclean spirits and then instructs them on how to behave on their journey.

*) I, 404.

**) και ήρξατο αυτούς αποστέλλειν.

*) Cf. for example, Mark 4:1, 5:1, 8:32.

199

If Mark only knows about one sending, then the aesthetic stumbling block remains that we cannot imagine Jesus without the company we are used to seeing him with. However, if we are dealing with history here, can something that may not be correct have become a habit for us? Could Jesus not have lived alone without the disciples for a longer period of time? It is unfortunate that we did not come up with this view ourselves, but that the Gospels taught it to us. It had already become a habit for the evangelists to always think of the Lord accompanied by his disciples, and Mark was very aware of how awkward it would be to leave him alone for a longer period of time. He not only ensures that the Twelve return to their master as soon as possible, but he also does not know what to do with the person of the Lord if he is not within his usual surroundings; he says nothing about the Lord, he remains silent about him while the disciples are on their journey. And to at least give the reader the feeling that time has passed until their return, and to create the illusion for himself and the readers that the disciples really had time to travel and work, he tells something about Herod and has him prompted by a word from this prince to tell the story of the execution of the Baptist. This narrative and the time that it required at least achieved something, and the reader’s attention was occupied long enough for the disciples to return immediately and form the solemn surroundings of the Lord.

200

All of this does not prove anything against the report of the sending out of the twelve, it only proves that the evangelical view cannot think of the Lord without the disciples, like the childlike view cannot think of a king without a crown on his head, and that an evangelist was at a loss and knew nothing to say about the Lord when he left him alone and sent the disciples on a journey. But it is more dangerous that Mark tells us nothing more precise about the mission of the twelve, for no one will convince us that we received accurate information about a matter of such great importance when Mark says (Ch. 6, 11-12) that the twelve preached repentance, cast out demons, and healed many sick people who were anointed with oil. But everything and the whole glorious story is lost when we ask what the disciples … but what is the point of asking further! They had nothing to preach to their fellow countrymen since they had not yet recognized the Lord as the Messiah, and if they could not appear with this message – which was only possible after the death of the Master – they could simply stay at home. Jesus could have sent out the twelve only if he gave them a teaching, a symbol, a positive view for the road; but since he could not do that, since it was neither in his nature to establish a positive dogma nor the disciples were able to grasp the new world principle, which was given in Jesus’ self-awareness, let alone to positively summarize it in one view and make it a symbol, it could not occur to the Lord to send out these uneducated, still indefinite, and incapable people as messengers of a new world among his people. Or did he want to form a medical school by sending them out to heal the sick? Or did he want to turn Galilee into an educational province by sending them out to preach repentance? A character like Jesus, a man who was so sure of the infinity of his self-awareness and the power of his cause in all calmness and humility, was also incapable of acting so hastily and thinking that he could move his people to repentance by sending out a couple of prejudiced people for a few days or weeks. He had already had the repentance preacher as his forerunner, now he was there with the abundance of his inner self and the gushing, driving, and shattering forces of his spirit – for the present, nothing more was needed, he left the rest to the power of his cause.

201

The sending out of the Twelve is an act of reflection of the religious view of history, which believed that the true consecration and authorization of the apostles to proclaim the gospel would only be given if it could be shown that Jesus himself had intended and authorized it through his life as an example – it is an act of Mark.

And what about the calling of the Twelve?

“To put it briefly, Schleiermacher *) answers, since we lack all definite news about it: I do not believe that there was ever a solemn calling and installation of all twelve apostles; rather, the special relationship of the twelve gradually took shape of its own accord. What a coincidence that no more and no less people came into this special relationship and that Jesus now had such a beautiful opportunity to say to the disciples (Luke 22, 30.) that they would sit on thrones (Matth. 19, 28 on twelve thrones) in his kingdom and judge the twelve tribes of Israel! Strange: this process of crystallisation, in which Jesus’ immediate surroundings were formed, happened to be such that only twelve were left at the end, so that they became a convenient symbol of the tribes of Israel and finally had to be used for every game for which the tribes of the Jewish people were to be used. As twelve they were just right for messengers of salvation who could be sent to the individual tribes of Israel, as twelve they were the spiritual Israel which had gathered around the Messiah, and as twelve they were again right for messengers of salvation when, after a new turn of this witty game, the twelve tribes of Israel had become the symbol of the nations. We have, however, very “definite” news that a coincidence of such an edifying kind did not prevail in this matter; Mark, whose report the two others have only not reproduced purely, rather expressly tells us that the Lord Himself, according to His will (οὓς ἠθέλεν αὐτός, Mark 3, 13.) called twelve from his other greater surroundings to himself and solemnly invested them with the apostolic office, and in the end we would have to assume that Jesus himself first initiated and authorized this game with the sacred number of twelve. Yes, says Weiße, yes, that is so, the number twelve was intended by Jesus and “it points to the founding of a new, world-encompassing Israel, which, like the old Israel according to biblical legend, is to have twelve physical and twelve spiritual patriarchs *)”. But how could Jesus not have better expressed his “consciousness of the individuality and of the world-historical destiny” of his work, could he only have expressed it in a positive statute, which had to push back every thought of universality and be overthrown by the man who first took the generality of the new principle seriously, by Paul? Jesus, who could not grasp and think the content of his self-consciousness at all without opposing the outworn forms of the Jewish people, neither had the Twelve with him as his constant retinue – only in childhood do we think that kings always have the crown on their heads and their knights at their side – nor did he call them to his immediate surroundings, nor did the Twelve exist at all as these Twelve during his lifetime. But this number twelve only came into existence as the community formed, that is, when the new principle entered into the positive boundaries of religious consciousness and had to apply the positive forms of the old Jewish world to its representation. Weisse is well aware of the difficulties of the old traditional view, but he does not eliminate them when he says that the apostolic association was founded so that through the community of life with Jesus, bearers of the “substantiality of the divine spirit” would be gained *). Weisse must set the purpose of the apostolic association as little positive and as general as possible because he cannot understand the triviality of the ordinary idea; this is fine, but now the discrepancy between the purpose and the limited means becomes all the more clear, because the fact that twelve were called, that certain people were called at all, was not necessary nor the right means if the substantiality of a new, infinite principle was to be ensured for its bearers. Jesus could only have drawn a fixed circle of disciples around himself and the larger mass if he had appeared with such a positive dogma, a symbol, or a developed, definite system; but since that was not the case, he could be sure, and he was, when it came to the substantiality of the new principle, that the substance of his self-consciousness was indestructible and that after his death, spirits would be found in which it could continue to live on and determine and shape itself, even if he had not called certain people to be bearers of this substantiality.

*) p. 88.

*) I, 394

*) I, 403.

204

The twelve apostles, about whom we know so little solely because they belonged to a very limited sphere, only came together in this group of twelve, and even then, probably more in idea than in reality, when the community was forming in its early Jewish limitations and was incorporating the ideal prototypes of Jewish life into its own life and worldview. A renewed critique of the sources from which information about the apostolic age flows is necessary before it can be determined whether the choice of the twelve was meant to meet a specific need for the leadership and organization of the community, or whether it was from the outset a Jewish ideal decoration of the new world. But one thing is certain: it is one of the first acts of the community and soon came to be regarded as an act of the Lord. The number twelve served as a sort of framework for the construction of the new community, which considered itself the true, reborn Israel, and it continued to serve as this ideal framework even after it had gained the validity that it had been intended and actually introduced by the Lord until it finally lost its limited, Jewish significance and the calling of the apostles became a symbol of what the Lord continues to do when he knows how to awaken the messengers of his gospel.

But doesn’t Paul already know “the twelve” in 1 Corinthians 15:5? When he appeared and accepted the new faith, the community had already created and shaped the first elements of its real and ideal world. And the choice of a replacement for Judas, and this choice immediately after the ascension of Jesus (Acts 1:15)? Well, it goes without saying that the author of the third Gospel would not deny the assumptions that he holds in it in the Acts of the Apostles, and the choice of a replacement, even if it is told in a work as freely constructed as the Acts of the Apostles, does not necessarily become a historical event. But one may ask further – how does Saul become one of the prophets? Judas one of the twelve? Probably because of the contrast and probably only later, when the idea of the calling of the twelve had acquired a purely ideal meaning. In this stage of its development, it was adopted by Mark. But usually it happens that after such a time of ideal life, a worldview falls into the empirical, embarrassing interpretation: this happened in this case – Luke took care of filling the gap caused by the shameful act of Judas and his eventual death, which had been ascertained, however belatedly.

205

Where the report of the calling of the Twelve got its form and place has already been excellently demonstrated by Wilke *). Just before, Jesus had healed many sick people and had already had a boat prepared to escape the crowds, but when he finally had to fear exhaustion or too much exertion of his powers—for the sick and possessed were literally falling on him—he withdrew to the mountain and chose twelve from his surroundings so that they could also take part in the healing work. When he arrived home and was again surrounded by an innumerable crowd (Mark 3:20), his relatives came “out of concern that his healings might be too much for him,” and with the intention of taking him into custody; they did not know that he had just chosen helpers. Literally, the evangelist used the Old Testament narrative in developing this account that Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, sought out the lawmaker and, seeing him almost overwhelmed by business, advised him to add some helpers **). At the same time, Mark sent the scribes against Jesus, their accusation against Jesus, that he was in league with the devil, relates to his miraculous healings and is only an intensification of the suspicion of Jesus’ relatives that he had “lost his mind” due to too much exertion.

*) p. 573. 574.

**) cf. Exodus 18:1, 5, 6, 18, 25.

206

Finally, it will be demonstrated to us later that the parable discourse also belongs to this section and is meant to present Jesus as the teacher of the laws of the kingdom of heaven, in contrast to the lawmaker Moses.

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2023-04-18

§ 42. Period of Rest

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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 2

—o0o—

154

§ 42.

Period of Rest.

 

1. The Miracle.

We have earned it honestly, and we certainly do not do it out of laziness when we take a moment of rest. But we must rest, and at this point, we want to take a breath, let our minds recover, collect ourselves, and before we move on, take another look at the path we have traveled. Ah, how it drove us in all directions, how we were suddenly hurled from the farthest point to the other, what all of that buzzed and teased us! Now, after we have pretty much extricated ourselves from this ghostly throng and calmed and ordered the elements that were so wild around us by bringing them back to their home in the world of self-consciousness, in their home, where they became a peaceful object of contemplation and regained their original determinacy, now we want to protect ourselves against a ghost or rather just state that this ghost, which could still be sent our way, cannot harm us anymore, for the simple reason that it does not exist for us.

155

It cannot be avoided and is inherent to the matter: the more the criticism is perfected, made into pure self-consciousness and rediscovers and conquers the original world of self-consciousness, the more the apologetics must lose importance and power, since its essential content is taken away from it, it must fall into the most terrible bondage of the letter, and if it wants to assert and complete itself against criticism, it must complete itself into the pure category of limitation and stupidity. One will certainly not accuse us of having denied the historical credibility of the reports we have considered so far for dogmatic reasons, for example because they are miracle stories: on the contrary, far from all a priori argumentation, we have dissolved the letter through its own determinateness and can only no longer accept miracles because we no longer have miracle reports. If now apologetics wants to complete itself to an equal purity and simplicity (not of self-consciousness, for it cannot assume its form, but of the sensory and interested consciousness), it must reverse the matter, completely establish the inverted world of its spiritlessness, and pointing to the letter, assert that the gospel story is a story of miracles because it is written that way.

In recent times, the apologists have already admitted to this crudeness of the sensory consciousness, but it will not help them, since we have come before them with greater audacity, having thrown ourselves ruthlessly and without dogmatic support into the letter and its prison in order to dissolve it through the pure power of self-consciousness, that is, through the same power that has set the letter and to let it speak as a witness to the infinite freedom of the spirit. It has spoken, it has freed us ourselves and as the recognized letter it is the charter of our freedom, the diploma that the apologists must first falsify and twist with pitiful lawyerly cunning if they want to rob us of our freedom in this area—at least here, for elsewhere they cannot even speak. In gratitude for the fact that the letter has spoken for our freedom, we—or rather, this is one and the same thing and is an act of emancipation—have freed it and secured it against the sneaky tricks of the apologists. It cannot be twisted anymore—or the theologian would have to resort to open lies—for it now lives its eternal, blissful life in the world of self-consciousness, after it has suffered under the hands of the apologists, it has risen, and with it, in the same world, the gospel story of miracles has risen to a new life. This story still exists, but—as a story of self-consciousness and indeed as a necessary story.

156

It is not the place here to elaborate at length that the pagan did not know the belief in miracles because he had not yet objectified the universality of self-consciousness in the thought of the divine, and therefore could not set the special powers of the spirit, which he worshiped as deities, in collision with the general power of nature. Only the Hebrew could grasp the pure idea of the miracle, for the One, the Universal, whom he worshipped, must set nature ideationally under his exclusive power altogether and bring its ideality before his consciousness in specific cases as well. Jehovah alone is the Mighty One, the Lord, so he alone performs miracles and man can at best, even when acting against nature, perform a miracle as his servant, messenger and authorized agent. It is only of the prophets that it is said they performed miracles out of the fullness of their inner power – naturally so! Their historical appearance must correspond to the standpoint from which they emerged and which they themselves worked on, which was based on the intuition of an inner connection between the divine and human, and as they themselves developed the intuition that the Messiah, in whom that connection would powerfully reveal itself, would directly overcome the opposition of the world and nature from the pure universality of his inner being, so they must also, even as types of the future, indicate in their personal appearance the power of the new principle.

157

The Christian community was formed and based on the idea that God and humans are not strangers to each other in their essence, and its views were drawn from the inner experience that the spirit in its individuality is not too weak and worthless to not be able to absorb or elevate itself to its universality. But as a religious entity, this consciousness, as it awakened and sought to express and shape itself, had to determine itself in the form of presenting its general content to itself and relating to it as consciousness: the idea of the true individuality of the spirit, which is one with its universality, became the perception of a particular, specific person who, as an empirical historical personality, encompasses and carries within itself the general power of the spirit, or rather, that idea did not become this perception but rather appeared as the latter in the world.

It was said of that statue that if it wanted to rise from its seat, it would lift up and shatter the temple roof above it. Up until that point, humanity had been frightened by the magic of natural power and oppressed by the burden of an unbearable law, and had been constrained by external regulations; but when it finally rose and stood up and raised itself up in the perception of the One who, as an individual, is the Universal, then all barriers and laws had to be shattered naturally, and everything positive that heaven and earth contain had to bow down at the feet of the One and acknowledge its powerlessness. That an individual as such is the Universal is in itself already a deadly collision, since in limited, immediate individuality, the Universal has lost its wealth of differences, determinations, and existences of self-consciousness, through whose cultivation and overcoming it alone is the Universal, on the one hand, and on the other hand, through this one limited existence to which it is chained, it must constantly come into collision with nature, with the moral determinations even of the family, and with history as a whole, which it can only lift up immediately, i.e., in a way that it works purely as such. This effectiveness of the Universal as such is the miracle that either overturns the natural context and family determinations and only then places this individual as an existence of the Universal, or happens to this individual to reveal its person as the site of the Universal, or is performed through its will itself, which has infinite scope.

158

As we are currently only concerned with the miracles that this One performed in the troubles, difficulties, and collisions of his historical life, it is sufficient to have pointed out that the reversal of all natural laws, this belief in miracles, was the necessary consequence of the miracle of the intuition for which the One had immediately become the Universal. When the Universal acts as such, all natural laws are immediately suspended. The latest confessors and advocates of the “credibility” of the evangelical story, when they refer us to the letter and try to persuade us that belief in miracles belongs not only to consciousness but also to empirical history as it is reported, we refer, as we have said, simply to our above critique, and still have time to repel the arguments of earlier apologists.

The earlier argument, this disbelief in the power of the spirit, proceeded from the assumption that the “revelation of a new communication from God to humanity” – we say, the rise of the Christian principle – “could not be derived from the natural connection.” *)  The hollowness of this proposition is immediately exposed when we dissolve the ambiguity of the term “natural connection” and ask whether the Christian principle is not explicable from history, from the nature of self-consciousness. Are the rich centuries before Christ, is human self-consciousness and its infinitude not an explanation? What is the point of playing with the word “natural connection” when the question is so serious?

*) Neander, p. 256

159

“New, higher powers” enter the world with the Christian revelation! What do we want to say about something higher than the elevation of self-consciousness, which as such is the rise of the Christian principle? Besides this highest, what are “effects that cannot be explained from the present natural context”? Indeed, a new principle also works with new powers, which are stronger than all the powers of the previous world combined and which arise solely from the inner determination of the principle, but these effects are not the wonders of ordinary imagination, but the influences of the new principle on the general nature of the spirit, which at first appear as an elementary power, grasp the spirit in its indeterminate depth, transform it, but become more precisely determined in the subsequent history until they are explicitly guided by will and reflection and finally indirectly bring about a new conception, contemplation, and treatment of nature as well. In the early days when the community arises and finally wants to orient itself in the world, but still under the initial elementary influence of the new principle and still cannot understand where the principle gets this power from, it can express its intuitions about the power of the same only in the form that we have received in the transmitted miracle reports about the life of its Lord. The category of the general nature of the spirit cannot use sensory perceptions for its religious consciousness; it adheres to natural determinations and still maintains an interest in them even when the relationship to the spiritual power of the principle has almost consciously produced a miracle story, as, for example, in the story of the centurion and the Canaanite woman.

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The excuse to which apologists and religious rhetoricians ultimately resort when they run out of ideas, namely that “in the divine plan of the world, in the higher ideal nature of the universe,” *)  the contradiction between the miracle and “ordinary natural laws” is resolved, is only an empty excuse, a flight into an empty universality of thought in which every real contradiction must indeed disappear because it is devoid of content. On the other hand, self-consciousness, the truly universal, which actually contains the nature of the particular within itself, mediates the nature by elevating it to its spiritual essence, refining it in passions and making it the bearer of ethical determinations, or by setting the law in motion to raise nature out of the coarseness of its immediate appearance, or finally in art by elevating the natural determinations through form to express the spirit and its infinity. Faced with the struggle with passions, industry, and art – what does the miracle mean in this comparison? What can it be in this context? It is the expression of hasty impatience, which wants to see immediately what is only given through work and effort.

*) So Neander p. 257.

Self-consciousness is the death of nature, but in such a way that it brings about this death itself only through the recognition of nature and its laws, thus in an immanent manner, since it is the negation and negation of nature in itself. The spirit ennobles, honors, and acknowledges even that which is its negation. If it were to forcibly and externally abolish a power that is its own ideality, it would destroy itself, since it would destroy an essential moment of itself. The spirit does not rage, rage, or fume against nature, which it would do in the miracle, in this denial of its inner law, but rather it works through the law and, through this admittedly difficult work, brings it to consciousness and to a renewed representation, to a form that it does not have in natural immediacy. In short, the death of nature in self-consciousness is its transfigured resurrection, but not its mistreatment, mockery, and blasphemy, which it would have to endure in the miracle.

161

Recently, Weisse attempted to hold onto the concept of miracles without accepting its adventurous content. “The miracle of Jesus can only have been a specific one, in harmony with the laws of nature and history and limited by them, and by its own concept, which reveals its inherent determinacy and in turn enters as an essential moment into the elastic concept of that general regularity of lawfulness *)” — in other words, the miracle must be reduced and tamed at least in appearance, as much as possible! However, the only reasonable and successful taming is to recognize its non-being, its irrationality, and unreality. The miracle is not and, in its ideal origin, is the non-being of self-consciousness, which does not yet know its inner powers as its own, nor its mediations and relations to the world as mediations, but throws everything out of itself in a single point and from this point, lets it work naturally and in a way that perverts all the laws of the world. Furthermore, a miracle that is in harmony with the laws of nature, etc., is no longer a miracle, at least not the miracle described in scripture, and the elastic concept of general regularity is no less a mere phrase of embarrassment than that cliche of a higher world order in which all contradictions are supposed to fall silent. The law of nature becomes elastic only through the law of nature, that is, through the hard work of the spirit, which sets the specific law in motion through another law that is determined precisely for this work, and sees it ideally.

*) Source: I, 336

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Neander continues *), “If we consider the miracles of Christ in relation to his contemporaries on whom he acted, it is certain that faith in him as Messiah, which was required for his activity, could not have been generated without miracles performed by him, and he himself could not have come to the belief that he was the Messiah and remained in it without the consciousness and experience that he was able to perform such miracles, for such miracles were essential features of the messianic calling, as is evident from so many passages in the Gospel.” What a sentence! It is worth the effort to transcribe it in its entirety, as it contains the essence of apologetic wisdom. With such lofty assertions, which betray the uncertainty of the theologian who utters them through their slippery turns, or with such bold expressions as that “for such miracles” which is really one of the boldest, the self-consciousness is to be captured and the unfortunate one who does not believe in miracles is to be crushed. No! the unbeliever is not unhappy, they have purified and freed their heart and mind from this murky mud and these unfounded theories and enjoy the pleasure that the contemplation of a humanized, i.e., no longer unnaturally bloated, history brings them. What a terrible “for such” and how naive – always the naivety of fear! – how naive is the assertion: “as is evident from so many passages in the Gospel!” Now, Jesus did not have to look around as anxiously as the Christologist at every turn, so that he always knew how to behave according to the Jewish messianic dogma, for this dogma with its locis theoIogicis and its locus of miracles did not yet exist in his time because it did not exist at all at his time and “as is evident from so many passages in the Gospel”, it only formed in the belief of the community after his resurrection.

Well, Jesus did not have to look around as anxiously as the Christologist after the horror of Jewish messianic dogmatics at every step, so that he would always know how to behave. For Jesus, this dogmatics with its loeis tkeoIoAieis and with its loeus of miracles did not yet exist, because it did not exist at all in his time and “as is evident from so many passages of evangelical history”, only formed in the faith of the congregation after his resurrection.

*) p. 258.

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Certainly, Neander says, the belief in Jesus as the Messiah was necessary for his effectiveness; but then Jesus could never have acted and would have always been pushed back in the form of infinite regress, never able to come to real action, since at the beginning that belief was missing and as positive, as symbolic belief in him as the Messiah did not come to him until the end of his career.

Without performing miracles and solely through the idea for which he had suffered, Jesus had succeeded in conquering the world and gaining recognition as the Messiah after his death, to whom the ability to perform miracles was certainly not lacking. And now he could not have become certain of himself and his task “without the experience that he could perform miracles”? So the power of the mind, the inner root of self-consciousness, is nothing? Without miracles, can it only shoot out into a wavering reed?

But the miracles are necessary, “just this, says Neander, that he was aware of not being able to perform miracles, gave John the Baptist proof that he did not possess the fullness of the spirit that belonged to the Messiah.” As if any rational person could not know without the miracle test how things stood with him in his own skin, and as if any reasonable man did not know that he cannot fly off the handle! In short, if the Baptist really once had the idea to test whether he might be the Messiah in the end – but history knows nothing of him ever having had this crazy idea – he did not need to make the attempt or ask himself whether he could perform miracles, but the inner measure of his self-consciousness told him where he stood, or did not even allow him to have that idea. Moreover, we must not say: he performed no miracles, but: the evangelical view did not allow him to perform miracles, because he was not recognized as the Messiah by it.

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Arguments such as, for example, that the miracles should “legitimize the absolute truth” of the doctrine *), that “the new faith could only (!) arise” if Jesus “used his miracle power himself to lift earthly needs and difficulties of his followers”, so that “the faith in his heavenly nature grew together with the belief in God’s care in all major and minor troubles **)” – arguments that are based on a decided disbelief in the inner power of truth and that, like the second one, lead to a God à la Stilling [?. =Stillingschen Gott], who must be above all a prompt treasurer, do not need to be judged; we actually do not even need to mention them, as they already belong to the history of disbelief.

*) Olshausen, l, 259.

**) Hoffmann, p. 368.

However, the men who first gave the specific form to the miracle view of the Christian community – because they were and remained human – could not completely deny the human, rational aspect; in fact, even in a domain where mediation is completely excluded, they feel a need for it. But the mediations that they insert into the miracle acts remain mysterious, and the apologists, who eagerly grasped for such mediating notes and elevated them into theories, but in fact only repeated the evangelical accounts with some general words, could not help their cause through such tautologies.

165

The evangelists demand faith as a starting point for Jesus’ miraculous works; even when it comes to the healing of a child, even if it is healed from a distance, at least the father or mother who request the miracle must give signs of firm faith, and Mark even formed the theory from this that Jesus could not perform miracles where he found no faith (Mark 6:5-6). “In healings,” says Olshausen *), “faith appears as the negative requisite that determines the receptivity of the powers of the Spirit emanating from Christ.” “The awakening of faith in the centurion of Capernaum, in the Canaanite woman, and in the father of the possessed was connected with the healing. The child is in a dependence of being from the parents **).”

*) l, 265. 264.

**) Ibid., p. 545.

Furthermore, a desire for mediation can also be found in the fact that Mark – the other two are already bolder and content themselves with the note that Jesus touched the sick in similar cases – allows the Lord to use natural means such as saliva; for example, in the story of the blind man from Bethsaida and the deaf-mute (Mark 7:33, 8:23). The other two do not include such mediations, rightly so, because at the moment saliva alone cannot work if the will of the miracle worker is not the main thing, and in the end, it is only the will that counts, so the natural means are insignificant in themselves, and apart from saliva, any other means could be chosen.

Mark describes in great detail how the blind man from Bethsaida gradually regained his sight. “So obviously,” Olshausen immediately picks up, “the healings of Jesus were not magical processes, but real processes.” But ask Matthew what he thought of notes like these. Nothing! Rightly so! They were the anxious attempts of the first creators of these figures to maintain a connection between the world of miracles and the rational reality through the appearance of a bond, and the other two no longer felt this anxiety and certainly did not dream that later theologians would form a theory of miracles based on the notes of their predecessor.

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Also the prohibition of Jesus to speak about the miracles is a rational instinct of the religious view that is ashamed of its works, which are nevertheless indispensable, and does not want to boast and attract attention with them. The religious view cannot do without miracles – despite Jesus’ prohibitions they are almost always made known, and the news of them causes countless crowds to flock to him – but it does not come forward boldly and self-confidently with them. Even today, the theologian’s heart beats when he builds his miracle theory, and one need only look at his untenable, wavering and trembling sentences and compare them with the calmness and self-assurance with which reason defends its eternal laws, in order to see from this contrast alone on which side the truth stands.

Occasionally, however, even Mark has to deal with points and whole miracles where his quest for mediation not only fails, but where he cannot even bring it up. Yes indeed! says Neander *), “certain stages of transition from the natural to the supernatural can be distinguished in relation to the miraculous in the miracle.” There are, namely, among the miracles of Christ, those “in which the supernatural is presented more in analogy with the natural, and those in which the summit of the supernatural appears in a manner that excludes all such analogies.” Now, as long as the apologist does not come forward more specifically and does not bring that wavering “more in analogy” to a halt, as long as he does not prove to us that those miracles that are supposed to be closer to the natural really are not completely removed from the category of rational law-governed processes, then we will – no! we will now leave him the glory of that discovery and his entire miracle theory without envying him for it. To each his own!

*) p. 275.

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In fact, theologians know very well how to keep us pleasantly occupied while resting; hardly have they presented us with their views on the miracles, when they move on to another topic and tell us what they think about the chronological transitions in the presentation of the Gospel.

 

2. The Chronological Transitions.

The fact that the synoptic accounts differ greatly from each other in the order in which they present events does not disturb us as much as it does the apologist, since we can admit without fear that even when the synoptics make the most indefinite transitions, they still want to indicate the actual sequence of events.

However, the theologian is not familiar with such fearlessness, since he does not know and cannot know how the individual accounts and the differences between them arose. In the past, he therefore tried to force the accounts into each other, while in more recent times, he has resorted to the assertion *) that the first three evangelists did not think of any specific order of events according to their chronological sequence when composing their works. The theologian and his system cannot exist without using force: in the past, he imposed a specific meaning on the chronological transitions in the Gospels, which they rejected with their actual specificity, and now he forces them into meaningless indeterminacy, even though they always want to be very specific, even if they are still so indefinite.

*) e.g. Olshausen, l, 24.

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“According to Olshausen *), the neglect of time and place is even more noticeable in Mark than in Matthew; even those general time designations are mostly missing in Mark.” But they are missing only because Mark is extraordinarily precise in determining time and place. Olshausen continues, “Mark does not try, like Matthew, to link the facts together in a certain logical order.” And it is precisely Mark who, with a skill that we can almost call artistic, groups the events together in each section, in which a particular interest, a collision, or a special moment of Jesus’ determination is always developed. While Matthew also wants to follow a certain logical order of events, firstly, the order that he conceived and followed is more abstract than the one we find in Mark’s scripture (since in the latter, the individual materials are not excessively accumulated and the interest is developed in a lively alternation and very appropriate progression of collisions, while Matthew, as in the Sermon on the Mount and in the presentation of the second day’s work, stretches the material out to the formless and in arranging the whole, he cannot control the individual details); secondly, Matthew has arbitrarily mixed together the individual statements of his predecessors, especially of Mark, because he arranges things abstractly, and has placed events in places where their true meaning, which only makes sense in the specific act of the drama assigned to Mark, can no longer have an effect.

*) Ibid. p. 25.

So we see that apologetics failed to properly grasp any of the points that matter in this matter, and we will soon see that it was completely incapable of resolving the issue or even considering it from the right perspective, since it was solely and entirely guided and controlled by its material interests.

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The synoptic reports were not only supposed to be considered credible, but the first gospel was to be entirely and forcibly attributed to Matthew, the apostle and eyewitness. To this end, it had to be asserted that Matthew did not care about chronology, and that he lacked the ability to vividly depict and perceive external circumstances. However, it has already been noted by others *) that Matthew actually strives for a very precise chronological connection of the facts, and if inaccuracies in the chronology and even occasional mistakes occur as a result of weakness or errors of memory, they cannot be considered an argument against the origin of a report from an eyewitness. Rather, this is especially the case when a writing strives for vividness and accuracy, which at every point proves to be false, arbitrary, and affected.

*) e.g. Schneckenburger, Contributions, p. 31. 36.

Regarding the vividness of the transitions from one report to another, it behaves in general as it does within the individual reports. According to his sensual standpoint, the apologist is only concerned that Matthew omits certain circumstances, which Mark and Luke, however, are aware of and inform us about. As if it were only the material that matters here, and not rather the artful totality to which the individual features of a narrative must be combined and which is instantly impossible if one or even several features are missing that make the point understandable and motivate it! If such features are missing and yet the point of the whole is maintained, then a vividness arises again, which appears very glaring, but is just too glaring and destroys itself, since we now suddenly see a beam of light springing out and do not know where, why it comes from and what it should hit and illuminate. This false vividness becomes even more false – if possible – when motives are not entirely missing, but are either superficial, where we expected a description, or are only half, or less than half, given in isolated words, in words and formulas that suddenly arouse an expectation and do not satisfy it. The reader who reads several such narratives in a row has the same feeling as the unfortunate one who is played individual beats from the middle, then from the end, and then from the beginning of different pieces of music, all mixed together. Instead of asking whether this ambiguity in the presentation, in which the specific is indefinite and the indefinite betrays that it is actually very specific, can originate from an eyewitness, instead of sending the apologist to school and assigning reading of historical accounts that come from eyewitnesses as homework, instead of finally noticing that the eyewitness, when he goes to depict what he experienced himself, works from a universality of perception, from which the individual naturally emerges and is explained, as it itself again explains the whole that condenses in the point, instead of saying things that the apologist does not understand and should not understand, we turn this consideration back to the starting point and show that the chronology in Matthew’s scripture is of a kind that otherwise does not appear in human historical works. Matthew forms extremely precise chronological transitions, but uses formulas that are not motivated in the preceding context; he forms relationships that lack the presuppositions on which they could be based, and he finally forms transitions that are not only unmotivated, but often impossible and excluded from the environment according to the context. But what is the use of words when the origin of these chronological transitions has already been explained to us, namely that Matthew has placed the narratives of Mark out of their context and still uses the formulas in the transitions that he finds in Mark’s scripture, but which are only explained here by the context?

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Instead of the former harmonistic approach, which for the sake of its material interest destroyed and confused the most specific information and transitions in the first three Gospels – for if the true and singular chronology of the history of Jesus was to be worked out, then the chronologies of the three Synoptics had to be overturned in one way or another – in place of these tumultuous works, a completely different harmonistic approach emerges, namely criticism, which resolves the dissonances in the writings of Matthew and Luke by separating the tones that are combined here and tearing the ear apart, and returning to the harmony that united them in the work of Mark. This is the only true harmonistic approach, the aesthetic, free contemplation, which is also free from theological necessity, because it proves that the harmony in the Gospel of Mark is an ideal work of art and for this reason – if we disregard the fact that the individual narratives that Mark has so beautifully connected themselves correspond to the ideal perception – it cannot inform us about the chronology of the life of Jesus.

The material interests of the theologian, the anxiety and torment of self-awareness, the insidious struggle with the letter, all of these adversities that harm the human mind and the holy scripture cease when Mark is recognized and the evangelical perception is restored to its ideal home.

Finally, if the theologian comes to us with the fourth Gospel to describe its chronology as the only correct one – as Olshausen does – or to combine it with the synoptic chronology, as Paulus does, then we are also freed from this torment, as we have shown that the entire chronological pragmatism of the Fourth is purely a cleansed one. The only question that ultimately arises is again an aesthetic one, whether Mark or the Fourth has created a more beautiful whole, a more beautiful structure of the whole, a question that we no longer need to answer. Our criticism of the fourth Gospel has solved the question, and the structure of the historical work that Mark created will prove to be artistic at every step we take.

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§ 41. The Healing of a Mute Demoniac

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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 2

—o0o—

140

§ 41.

The Healing of a Mute Demoniac.

(Matthew 9:32-34)

Strange contradiction! Matthew is so bound to the letter, indeed he treats it so arbitrarily, that he tears out events which are firmly fixed in their place by the strongest bonds in the scripture of Mark, and places them elsewhere as it suits him and appears appropriate, in short, at any other place. And yet he is again such an unresisting servant of the letter that he copies the information of his predecessor for the second time, when the opportunity arises for the reports that he had already anticipated. It is, in general, the contradiction that is inseparable from positive religion: if the religious consciousness rises once into the sphere of its pure universality and becomes the pure contemplation of its essence, then the individual positive determinations, in which its essence is otherwise given to it, appear to it as indifferent, or at least it goes so far as to believe that it does not matter whether these determinations are always held fast in their sensual particularity; – but the next moment, and immediately after that elevation, it falls back into the servitude of the positive and stiffens itself on the letter: of course! Since that view of the essence, being highly indefinite in itself, cannot last long and must draw its fulfilment from the positive determinations of the letter. The religious consciousness is this immediate union of indefinite freedom and the most determined servitude in the service of the letter.

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The proof will be given to us again by Matthew.

At the sea, where he had withdrawn himself from the Pharisees’ pursuit, Jesus healed crowds of sick people and had much to do with demoniacs. Faced with the crowds of the sick, Jesus withdrew to the mountain and chose twelve disciples as companions and assistants, so that they could take on a part of his exhausting work and, if he deemed it appropriate, go out and heal the sick and cast out demons. When he came home with the disciples, an enormous crowd of people gathered again, and in addition, his relatives came to arrest him, for they claimed that he would lose his mind, even that he had already lost it, and at the same time, scribes who had come from Jerusalem accused him of driving out demons by the ruler of the demons.

143

With these statements, Mark (Chapter 3, 7-22) introduces the third section of his presentation of Jesus’ public life.
Luke had used the note about the choosing of the twelve and the many healings that the Lord performed in his scripture only after the calling of the apostles as a historical introduction to the speech that Matthew made into the Sermon on the Mount. It could not escape him that the accusation of the scribes referred to the expulsion of demons, which Mark had previously reported and he himself mentioned (Chapter 6, 18); but after the long speech that he followed, which had already diverted the interest from the historical introduction, he can no longer bring up that accusation later, and since he also did not find a suitable place for it later, he puts it into the wide bag of notes that he had obtained in the great travel report (Chapter 9, 51-18, 31). Here he does not hesitate to blindly place one note next to the other, although he still dares to make pragmatic transitions at times. This time – he had just reported (Chapter 11, 1) that Jesus was praying and teaching the disciples to pray “somewhere” – he does not make a transition and drops the remark out of the blue that Jesus had just driven out a demon that was mute (Chapter 11, 14). But when the evil spirit departed, he continued, then spoke the mute one, and the crowds were amazed. However, some of them (he does not say that they were the scribes) said, “He drives out demons by Beelzebub, the ruler of the demons.” Others, however, to test him, demanded a sign from heaven.

That a report like this is not original, that it is a patched-up one, hardly needs to be mentioned, since it is not said who these desperate enemies were, and it is inexplicable how one could demand a sign from heaven from a man who was accused of being an ally of the devil at the same time. Luke compiled various accounts of Mark’s.

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But he also left something out. Why? And what did he do with the omitted material? Luke no longer saw that both, the accusation by the scribes and the suspicion of Jesus’ relatives that he was out of his mind due to excessive exertion, belonged together. He also could not find it believable that Jesus’ mother and brothers wanted to forcefully seize him because he was out of his mind (εξεστη). Therefore, he leaves out this note. However, the following, that Jesus’ mother and brothers come and call him out while he defends himself against the scribes, could be better used because of Jesus’ answer: “Whoever does the will of God, he is my brother and sister and mother.” This saying reminded him of the parable of the sower, which also speaks of those who hold fast to the word of God in their hearts and bear fruit. Without further ado, he now has Jesus’ relatives arrive at that occasion when the parable of the sower was presented so that the two sayings about the true doers of the word would stand close together. He even shapes Jesus’ answer to those who wanted to call him out to his relatives after the conclusion of the parable. However, he cannot make it comprehensible to us why this time Jesus’ relatives “wanted to see him” (Luke 8:15, 21) *). Moreover, he cannot really relate both the conclusion of that parable and the saying about the true relatives of the Lord, even though he purposely omits the other parable that Mark still reports. He must add some sayings that are not related to the conclusion, but to the fact that the disciples had asked for an explanation of the parable. In all directions, the connection between both reports reveals itself to be external and forced.

*) Μark 3, 35 : δε γαρ αν ποιήση το θέλημα του θεού, ούτος άδελφός μου και αδελφή μου και μήτηρ εστί.
Μark 4, 20: και ούτοι εισιν οι επί την γήν την καλήν σπαρέντες, οίτινες ακούουσι τον λόγον και παραδέχονται και καρποφορoύσιν, εν τριάκοντα, και εν εξήκοντα, και εν εκατόν.
Luk. 8, 15: το δε εν τη καλή γή, ούτοι εισιν οίτινες εν καρδία καλή και αγαθή, ακούσαντες, τον λόγον κατέχουσι και καρποφορούσαν εν υπομονή.
Luk. 8, 21: μήτηρ μου και αδελφοί μου, ούτοι εισιν οι τον λόγον του θεού ακούοντες και ποιoύντες αυτόν.
Luk. 11, 28 : μενούν γε μακάριοι οι ακούοντες τον λόγον του θεού και φυλάσσοντες αυτόν
Matth. 12, 50 literally agrees with Mark 3, 35. Although Matthew before 12, 22-45 used the account of Luke C. 11 diligently, he also has the scripture of the original evangelist in front of him and his eye turns to it again when he wants to report the dispatch of Jesus’ relatives. Matthew also gives C. 13, 23 the full ending of the sentence as Mark had formed it C. 4, 20. Luke had abbreviated it to make both sayings (8,15.21.) more uniform.

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When Luke reports Jesus’ defense against the accusation of having a partnership with the devil (C. 11, 17.), he turns again to the writing of Mark and finds here the word about those who do the will of the Father. He is so caught up in the letter at this moment that he cannot bring himself to leave it out. He must somehow bring it in, but cannot rewrite the occasion for which Jesus’ relatives had come to speak with him. So he ingeniously, as he is skilled in drawing and executing such individual sketches, creates a new occasion: a woman in the crowd exclaimed in admiration, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that nursed you,” to which Jesus replied, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it” (Luke 11:27-29) *).

*) Under the pen of Luke, but not as Strauss assumes, “in the legend,” this second version was formed for that saying of Jesus. After Luke had taken the first variation of the same story “at an earlier occasion,” Strauss (l, 761. 762.) says, “he found himself, when he came to the place where in ordinary tradition that anecdote had its place, prompted to insert it now in the second form here.” But if the tradition did not have that information, why did Jesus’ relatives come to see him (because it is absent in Luke and Matthew and only belongs, as Strauss also assumes on p. 758, to the exaggerations which Mark likes to bring forward)? It is inexplicable how they could always find the same place for that incident. In the legend, in this fluid element, an anecdote should have been fixed to a preceding event without the help of a bracket, if Luke did not appreciate and use this bracket in Mark’s writing and place the story of Jesus’ relatives’ arrival in a location where it is out of all context?

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However significant and compelling the preceding words of Jesus are, in which he rebuffs the accusation of the Pharisees, they are by no means so powerful as to have persuaded a woman to exclaim in admiration and to bless the mother of such a speaker. Nevertheless, if we set aside this aspect of the context and still consider every word that the evangelist attributes to the Lord as admirable *), we must reflect on another aspect of the context, namely that there is no connection at all. Luke has left the saying about the doers of the word standing here, has even created a new occasion for it, and has done so precisely at a time when he should have striven for the shortest possible length and the most precise coherence of the individual parts. He has placed the Lord in the situation of having to defend himself against the accusation of a covenant with the devil and to reject the demand for a sign at the same time – was it not already inappropriate for the Lord to reject the schemes of his opponents one after the other, as if answering an indictment paragraph by paragraph, and after having exposed the senselessness of the first accusation (v. 17-26), to calmly expose the wickedness of the nation that asks for a sign? Certainly, it was inappropriate, but even more inappropriate was that Luke placed the exclamation of that woman and Jesus’ response between the two paragraphs of the defense speech and now had to make a new approach to introduce the second paragraph by saying (v. 29) “the crowds were pressing in,” creating the appearance that the crowd had crowded closer to see a sign and now had to be rebuked with the harsh words “This is an evil generation!”

*) Luk. 11, 21: εγένετο εν τω λέγειν αυτόν ταύτα.

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The result is simply this: Luke has brought together two narratives from the writing of Mark that are far apart. The detailed description of Jesus’ miracle-working, which in Mark led to the slanderous accusation of the Pharisees, Luke had already used for other purposes. If he now also wanted to convey that accusation, he needed a new occasion, and without looking far, he found it in a later place in the scripture of Mark, where another healing gives occasion for the Pharisees to attack Jesus. Although it is only a deaf mute *) whom the Lord heals this time, before the Pharisees come out and demand a sign from heaven to test him, Luke, on account of the accusation of the Pharisees, needed an exorcism: but how easy was it for him to turn that deaf mute into a possessed person **)? Luke needed these two narratives of his predecessor (Mark 7:32–37, 8:11–12) for another reason as well. When Mark reports earlier (3:21–22) that the Pharisees accused Jesus of being in league with the devil, this note is complemented by the other, that his relatives wanted to seize him and thought he was out of his mind. Through the juxtaposition of relatives and scribes, it creates a kind of contrast, so Luke must have felt a gap when he omitted the note about the relatives. This gap is sufficiently, indeed more than sufficiently, filled if Luke has the people who accused Jesus of being in league with the devil also come forward with those who demanded a sign from him, and in addition, for the sake of the contrast, has the crowd stand there and let the miracle be admired. The material for this contrast was provided to him by Mark’ account of the healing of the deaf mute *).

*) Mark 7:32: κωφον μογιλαλον.

**) δαιμόνιον . . . . κωφόν Luk. 11:14.

*) Luk. 11, 14: ελάλησεν ο κωφός, και εθαύμασαν οι όχλοι. Mark 7, 37 : και υπερπερισσώς εξεπλήσσοντο λέγοντες, καλώς πάντα πεποίηκε (- out of it came εθαύμασαν of Luke) και τους κωφους ποιεί ακούειν, και τους αλάλους λαλείν (Luke recounts the success: και ελάλ. ο κωφ.).

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Although Matthew had used the account of the strenuous miracle-working of Jesus from the Ur-gospel as an introduction to the Sermon on the Mount after the example of Luke, yet the context, when in chapter 12 he reports on the Sabbath violations and the persecutions of the Pharisees, leads him again to that passage in the Ur-gospel where the Lord, in seclusion, heals the crowds of sick brought to him – Matthew carelessly says, those who followed him – and he unhesitatingly copies the passage, since he is already in the flow. But not completely! He only says (ch. 12, 16): he healed them all and commanded them not to make him known **) – but why? Matthew does say that this was to fulfill the word of the prophet Isaiah – but which word? Matthew writes out in detail the prophetic utterance of Isaiah 42:1-4, but does not say which aspect of this prophecy was fulfilled at this moment. Was it the fact that God called the Messiah his beloved son? That he gave him his spirit? Or the authority to proclaim judgment to the nations? Or the kindness with which the Messiah would not extinguish a smoldering wick until he had brought judgment to victory? Or was it the fact that the nations would hope in his name? None of these, but solely the prophetic praise of the Messiah that he would not cry out and that his voice would not be heard in the street was important to the evangelist and seemed to him to be the reward for the humility that the Messiah demonstrated this time by forbidding the healed not to make him known. For it cannot be the intention of Matthew that Jesus gave this command so that he would not be betrayed to the enemies from whom he had just escaped (ch. 12,15). The Lord demonstrated humility when he did not want to be made known by the healed, and this same humility was already praised by the prophet. But now it was impossible to exercise this virtue, since the crowd of people (οχλοι πολλοι) surrounded the Lord, and it is just as impossible that Matthew would have copied the long prophetic passage here if he were working purely from his own perspective. He has the writing of Mark before his eyes, reads here (ch. 3,11-12) that Jesus forbids him to be betrayed, but overlooks that he forbids the demons who call him “the Son of God,” and now quotes so unfortunately that he lets the healed be given the prohibition, quoting the saying of the old prophet in which he selects a hint that was possible only in the context of Mark’s account, not in his adaptation of the Ur-text. It now also becomes clear why he writes out the whole long prophetic passage: he wants – as Mark (ch. 3,22) prescribes for him – to let the Pharisees make their accusation, but like Luke, he cannot understand how Jesus’ relatives could come forward with an accusation, or at least a suspicion, that could only be explained by the most stubborn unbelief, like the most determined enemies against him. Therefore, he omits this feature altogether, but he also no longer sees how the appearance of the scribes and Jesus’ relatives is motivated by the preceding miraculous healings. Furthermore, Luke has already created a special occasion for him for the accusation of the Pharisees, in short, in the Ur-text, he immediately jumps from ch. 3,12 to v. 22 and now fills the gap that has arisen by his long quotation.

**) και επετίμησεν αυτοίς, ίνα μη φανερόν αυτόν ποιήσωσιν. Mark 3, 12 : και πολλά επετίμα αυτοίς, ίν, μή αυτ. φαν. ποιήσ.

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Then Luke tells him that Jesus had just healed a demonic and the people were amazed by it. Matthew makes the contrast even greater: the people had already voiced their suspicion that he might be the son of David *) — when the Pharisees came out with the claim that he was rather in league with the devil. But Luke, who only speaks of a mute demonic, cannot be the only witness of Matthew, who speaks of a demonic who was both blind and mute — where does this double affliction of the sick come from? Mark, whose writing he correctly opened at the place C. 7, 32 where Luke had used it, speaks of a deaf-mute and lets the people, as they were astonished at the miracle, exclaim ecstatically: “He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak” — so shouldn’t Matthew give credit to the truth, especially as it made the matter appear more glorious, and make the sick person twice as sick? He knows very well what he has to do and does even more than he actually should: namely, he did not think it was enough that the sick person was deaf-mute, because this affliction is usually one and the same, he wanted to make the duality of the affliction much more prominent and therefore made the demonic blind and mute. Now when the people in Mark’s account exclaim, “He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak,” the twofoldness of the miracle is much more clearly heard, when Matthew can say that the blind and mute spoke and saw. But why did the sick person have to be blind? Because blindness only remained if, instead of deafness, the lack of an equally important sense, such as hearing, had to be added to the affliction of muteness. But also because Matthew used the story of the blind man from Bethsaida (Mark 8:22), which is also before his eyes together with the story of the healing of the deaf-mute, and, just as he had already made this blind man the companion of the blind man from Jericho, he combined his suffering with the suffering of the mute *).

*) Luk. 12, 23: και εξίσταντο πάντες οι όχλοι και έλεγον, μήτι ούτός έστιν ο υιός Δαυίδ.

*) Perhaps the same beginning in the two accounts of Mark of the deaf-mute and the blind man also led him from one to the other.

Luk. 11, 14 it just says: και ήν εκβάλλων δαιμόνιον και αυτό ήν κωφόν.

Against it Mark 7, 32: και φέρουσιν αυτώ κωφών μογιλάλον.

Mark 8, 22 : και φέρουσιν αυτώ τυφλόν.

Matth. 12, 22 : προσηνέχθη αυτώ δαιμονιζόμενος τυφλός και κωφός.

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Matthew knew very well where to find the Gospel of Mark if he wanted to compare Mark’s account of the healing of the deaf-mute with Luke’s report. First, Mark led him to the parallel narrative in Luke with his report of the hostile accusation of the Pharisees (Mark 3:22), and he had to take this into account because it provided him with more material for his story. But he also found here that people were demanding a sign from the Lord – is it surprising that he turned to Mark’s account of the healing of the deaf-mute, which preceded the demand for a sign, and the healing of the blind man that followed it **), and used them in the way he did?

**) Mark 7:32 – 8:22

Matthew follows Luke and puts the accusation that Jesus had made a pact with the devil and the demand for a sign in immediate connection. Although he did not like that both should be the work of a moment, he now presents the matter as if only after Jesus had defended himself against the suspicion that he had made a pact with the devil, some of the scribes and Pharisees said, “Master, we want to see a sign from you” (Matthew 12:38). However, essentially, he did not improve the matter, for this would be a fine answer from the Pharisees, which is attributed to them here, after they had just been strongly refuted and even accused of sinning against the Holy Spirit! At least, in the original placement of the speech of Jesus in the type of the Gospel story, it was meant to strike down the opponents, to “shut their mouths” and take away all desire to object or even to make such a naive request for a sign.

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In his account, Matthew omits the small picture of the woman who blessed Jesus, which Luke inserted between the two paragraphs of Jesus’ defense speech. He couldn’t use it anyway, as he wanted to have the Pharisees and scribes respond immediately after the first paragraph of that speech. Besides, he realizes that the essence of that picture is contained in Jesus’ words about his true mother. Therefore, he turns to Mark, whose scripture he already had in front of him when he reported the Pharisees’ accusation, and borrows from it as soon as possible the story of the relatives who called for Jesus. But even though he does it as soon as possible, it comes too late, because this story comes after the demand for a sign in Matthew 12:46, just like in Luke 8:19, so it’s torn out of its proper context and no reader will understand why Jesus suddenly rebuked his relatives so harshly.

If Matthew followed Luke’s example in the way he did, he has already combined two pieces from Mark’s scripture (Mark 3:7-8) completely, and he even knows what he has done because he compared both pieces in the original Gospel and then specified and completed Luke’s presentation accordingly. However, shortly afterwards he forgets everything again, and when he comes to the place in Mark’s scripture where Jesus heals the deaf mute and the Pharisees demand a sign from heaven, he writes the whole story again (Mark 15:30-31; 16:1-4). He only changes a few things, namely the rhythm of the story, that Jesus heals, the crowds are amazed, and the sick are healed, the blind see, the mute speak – this rhythm that he had already borrowed from Luke’s (11:14) and Mark’s (7:32-37) presentation in Matthew 12:22-23, he also keeps this time, as the course of events leads him to the original report (Mark 7). But he doesn’t want to copy it entirely and instead of bringing just one deaf mute to Jesus, he lets the crowd come with many others, including lame, blind, mute, crippled, and many others. Of course, then the crowd must be amazed again when they see the mute speaking, the crippled healed, the lame walking, and the blind seeing (Matthew 15:31). However, the amazement of the crowd only fits into the context if it occurs on the occasion of a remarkable healing. But if there are as many healed as Matthew states, and one imagines the whole crowd running, jumping, speaking, and proving the miracle of healing through their actions, then the picture becomes restless, and instead of being amazed, the people would have lost their ability to hear and see.

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The same rhythm, that a demon-possessed mute is brought to the Lord, that the mute speaks after the demon was cast out, and the crowd marvels – the same story that he thus tells three times, Matthew has omitted from his narrative in Chapter 9, verses 32-34, in the form in which it was handed down to him by Luke, where the Pharisees’ claim forms a contrast to the wonder of the crowd. Now as before (verses 27-31), it was not dependence on the letter of a foreign scripture, but rather free combination, that led the evangelist to place this story here. In the following instructional speech, Jesus says to the apostles: “The servant is not above his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of his household?” (Chapter 10, verses 24-25). Matthew sees quite rightly that the disciples and his readers would not understand this saying if they did not know the fact on which it was based, and so he weaves in without any hesitation the incident that once brought the ruler of the demons together with Jesus into the preceding narrative context.

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The second and third time he tells the same story, his dependence on Mark and Luke would lead him to do so.

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§ 40. The Healing of Two Blind Men

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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 2

—o0o—

137

§ 40.

The Healing of Two Blind Men.


Matth. 9:27-31.

It has already been shown above that Matthew copied the conclusion of his account of the healing of the two blind men from Mark’s account of the healing of the leper. The beginning and middle of this account are also borrowed from Mark’s writing; they are nothing but a copy of the story of the blind man from Jericho, which Matthew therefore relates twice, as he also picks it up again where he finds it in Mark’s writing. We also do not know why we should not mention here what Wilke has also demonstrated, that Matthew speaks of two blind men both times, whereas only one blind man is healed at Jericho according to Mark, because with this story he combines another healing of a blind man, which his predecessor reports at another place (after the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, Mark 8:22-26).

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The evidence is as follows. The only thing that still interests and perhaps stands out as content in Mark’s narrative of the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida is the description of the way in which the healing gradually takes place and the patient regains the use of his eyes. However, Matthew does not love the details, often neglecting them where he should have taken his predecessor’s account as a model. At times, though, we cannot blame his more educated reflective standpoint, especially when the elaborations on how the healing occurred and the illness disappeared seemed worthless to him in the miracle reports. It was of the utmost indifference to him how a patient was healed, if he could only write that the healing was miraculously brought about by Jesus’ word *). If a narrative contained nothing more than the note that a patient was healed, and consisted of nothing more than a detailed description of the way in which the illness was cured, it had no value for him, and it cost him little effort to leave it out or to combine it with another narrative. Thus, he had not reported particularly on the healing of the possessed man in the synagogue at Capernaum, and without much consideration, he had made this possessed man the companion of the demoniac of Gadara. Similarly, he did not consider it worthwhile to report the healing of the blind man from Bethsaida; however, he did not want to conceal the miracle, and quickly he turned the one blind man from Jericho into two blind men.

*) Μark, for example, describes in great detail how Jesus heals the demoniac after the Transfiguration below the mountain Mark 9:24-27: επετιμησεν τω πνευματι τω ακαθαρτω λεγων αυτω το πνευμα το αλαλον και κωφον εγω σοι επιτασσω εξελθε εξ αυτου και μηκετι εισελθης εις αυτον. και κραξαν και πολλα σπαραξαν αυτον εξηλθεν (literally the same as in Mark 1:25-26) και εγενετο ωσει νεκρος ωστε πολλους λεγειν οτι απεθανεν, ο δε ιησους κρατησας αυτον της χειρος ηγειρεν αυτον και ανεστη. Luke did not write down all these words, which could be found in any medical work, and Matthew, what does he do? He rightly says nothing more than: (C. 17, 18.) και επετιμησεν αυτω ο ιησους και εξηλθεν απ αυτου το δαιμονιον και εθεραπευθη —   there comes again his usual closing formula – ο παίς από της ώρας εκείνης.

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The incident that occurred at Jericho is in his mind, even the account of Mark, when he reports the healing of the two blind men that occurred after the raising of Jairus’ daughter. As Jesus, he says in Chapter 9, verse 27, continued on from there, namely from the house of Jairus, two blind men followed him. But how can two blind men “follow” the Lord so surely and freely? Nothing is easier! Matthew reads in the scripture of Mark that the blind man followed Jesus, and without further ado, he writes the same thing down because he urgently needed a transition and in the rush did not immediately notice that the blind man of Mark only “follows” the Lord after his healing *). The two blind men cry out and shout, “have mercy on us, Son of David,” they shout now as they did later when they sit by the roadside again in Jericho, and just like the blind man of Jericho whom Mark tells about *). That Jesus enters his house (after leaving Jairus’ house) and that the blind men come to him here is modeled on the story of the blind man who was healed in Bethsaida, because even if he does not come to the Lord himself, at least he is brought to Jesus when he had stayed in Bethsaida **). According to Mark’s account, Jesus asks the blind man from Jericho: “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replies, “I want to see again,” and Jesus then says to him, “Go, your faith has healed you!” Matthew gives the same exchange, only that he borrows the expression of confidence that Jesus could perform the miracle from the story of the leper (Chapter 8, verse 2 in Mark, Chapter 1, verse 40). Finally, he returns to Mark’s account of the blind man from Bethsaida, and finds that Jesus sent the blind man whom he had led out of the village and healed here in the wilderness back home with the command not to enter the village or speak of the matter to anyone in the village. But Matthew cannot use this specific situation when he lets his two blind men be healed in Capernaum, yet he wants to conclude with the same prohibition and now takes up the conclusion of the account of the leper (Mark 1:43-45), which he had omitted above.

*) If one were to say that this is too adventurous, we refer to things that we have already become accustomed to in the Gospel of Matthew. We will learn more of such pragmatic creations that arose only from a hasty combination of information in the Gospel of Mark. One of the most remarkable can be found in Matt. C. 14, 12. Perhaps we can explain his understanding this time so that it no longer seems too adventurous. In Mark 10:46, he reads that when Jesus left Jericho, he was accompanied by his disciples and a considerable crowd (και των μαθητών αυτού και όχλου ικανού). On the other hand, he expresses a simpler version in Matt. C. 20, 29 that when the company left Jericho, a large crowd followed them (ξαλ éxito evoμένων αυτών ….. ηκολούθησεν αυτώ όχλος πολύς). Perhaps he already had this simpler version in mind when he wrote the section in C. 9:27 and used the blind men instead of the crowd because the crowd was not immediately present. The matter remains always adventurous.

*) Matth. 9, 27 κράζοντες και λέγοντες, ελέησον ημάς υιέ Δαυίδ. Matth. 20, 30 έκραξαν λέγοντες, ελέησον ημάς, κύριε υιός Δαυίδ. Mark 10, 47 ήρξατο κράζειν και λέγειν, ο υιός Δαυίδ Ιησού, ελέησόν με.

**) Matth. 9, 28 ελθόντι δε εις την οικίαν, προσήλθον αυτώ οι τυφλοί. Mark 8, 22 και έρχεται εις Βηθσαϊδάν και φέρουσιν αυτώ τυφλόν.

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Otherwise, when Matthew changes the sequence of events and suddenly connects narratives that are far apart in the writing of Mark, we find the reason for these rearrangements, which were brought about by a kind of necessity, in the pragmatism that had already been established in the previous sections and had become a commanding force. However, this time, nothing can be discovered in the previous sections that would explain why Matthew had to jump from the resurrection of Jairus’ daughter to an event that, according to Mark’s account, happened after the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and shortly before the entry into Jerusalem in Jericho. Nevertheless, Matthew had his good reason for letting the healing of the blind happen right now. He is in a hurry to instruct the apostles, wants to report the message of the Baptist immediately after this, but, as Luke prescribes, he has to begin the answer with which Jesus dismisses the messengers of the Baptist with the words (Ch. 11, 5.): “the blind see!” and now wants to give these words, by already reporting a healing of the blind beforehand, a historical basis and justification. Luke, who first introduced this new element into the original type of the Gospel story, did not yet think of prefacing the justification to Jesus’ answer. Or perhaps he was just not thinking about this aspect of the miraculous activity, as he lets the raising of the young man from Nain precede the message of the Baptist so that the reader can understand how Jesus could say in his response to the Baptist, “The dead rise!” (Luke 7:22).

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§ 39. The Raising of Jairus’s Daughter

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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 2

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133

§ 39.

The Raising of Jairus’s Daughter.

Matthew 9:23-26

“The child is not dead but sleeping!” Jesus said upon entering the house of the father and seeing the flutists and noisy crowd. “Go,” he said to them, “go away, the child is not dead.” After the crowd had been set aside, he went into the room of the dead where he took the hand of the child and caused the girl to rise.

In all three accounts, the words of Jesus, “It is not dead, but sleeping!” are the same. Therefore, Olshausen concludes *), we have here no real–no real! so perhaps an unreal one?–raising from the dead. “The child probably (!) was in a deep swoon.”

However, while the words are indeed present in all three accounts, they are each presented in a context that explains them quite differently from how Olshausen would have us understand them out of superstitious respect for the isolated letter. Moreover, in one of the accounts, they are presented and explained in such a way that there can be no doubt as to their meaning. First and foremost, it is clear that we can no longer speak of a swoon when, according to the report of Mark and Luke, the father of the child comes out and remarks that the child is lying on its deathbed in its last moments, and shortly thereafter the message comes that it has indeed died. According to all three accounts, Jesus found the mourners in the house, who were weeping and wailing (Mark 5:38). Matthew calls them “the noisy crowd *)” and also adds that the flutists had already been present. These preparations would not have been possible for the evangelists–that is, for Mark–in the extremely short time that had passed since the news of the child’s death had just reached the father, unless they had been of the utmost necessity; but they were necessary, for the reader should no longer doubt the actual death of the child **). Furthermore, all three evangelists report that when Jesus said the child was not dead but sleeping, the people laughed at him; as Luke correctly adds (v. 53), they knew that the child was really dead, and despite Jesus’ words, the reader should be sure that this time it is indeed the resurrection of the dead ***). It is impossible for the reader to orient himself and resolve the contrast between the words of Jesus and the actual state of affairs if nothing more than this contrast is given to him and other information is missing that would enlighten him as to how Jesus meant his words or what he intended to accomplish with them. Therefore, Matthew erred when he included only this contrast in his account and omitted what Mark reports and what explains the matter. According to the original gospel, Jesus sternly forbade the parents, who were horrified at the enormous miracle, to let the people know about it. He could not hide from the parents, whom he took into the death chamber, what he had done, but the others, whom he drove out of the house before entering the death chamber, were not to know that he would perform such an enormous miracle this time. Therefore, he only told them from the beginning that the child was not dead but sleeping; in short, he did not want too much fuss to be made about the matter. *)

*) l, 327.

*) C. 9, 23 “τον όχλον θορυβούμενον,” he uses the word “θόρυβοv” that is found in Mark.

**) Calvin: tantum commemorant Evangelistae, quo certior constet fides resurrectioni. Diserte etiam ponit Matthaeus adfuisse tibicines.

***) Bengel: is ipsum confirmavit veritatem mortis et miraculi. The same is true for Calvin.

*) Wilke, a. a. O. p. 534.

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Otherwise, he knew from the beginning, when the news of the death arrived, what he had to do; he was determined to revive the dead woman — “Do not be afraid, only believe,” he says to the father when the messengers tried to dissuade him from bothering the Master further — but he also immediately decided not to involve the crowd, so that the miracle would not create too much commotion. Therefore, he did not allow anyone to follow him on the way to Jairus’ house except Peter, James, and John; upon arriving at the house, he drove away the crowd of mourners and only then did he go with the parents of the child and his disciples into the room of the dead (Mark 5:37-40). To Luke, it was too tedious to pay closer attention to these subtle nuances and to give the narrative such a slow movement. He immediately lets the Lord arrive at Jairus’ house without first saying how he got there and now combines three statements from Mark at the one point where Jesus enters the house, i.e., in confusion. He could change things, but then he would have had to do so with deliberation and not have been allowed to mechanically put together the words and elements of his excellent predecessor’s narrative. When Jesus entered the house, Luke says, he allowed no one to enter except Peter, John, James, the father, and the mother of the child. As if the mother had followed the Lord on the street! Thus, Luke reports 1) Mark’s note that Jesus entered the house, he reads 2) in his predecessor’s scripture that Jesus only let a few follow him, but he is already at the house with his report, the crowd of people that he himself mentioned (Luke 8:43) is forgotten — because he didn’t need to say that Jesus couldn’t take the countless crowd into the house — and if he wants to say that Jesus only let a few follow him, he has to reach further into Mark’s narrative and let what happened 3) when Jesus entered the room of the dead happen when he entered the house. This is how it came about that even the mother of the child, who according to Mark followed the Lord into the room of the dead from the front rooms of the house, now followed him with the others from the street into the house *).

*) Luke 8 8, 51 ελθών δε εις την οικίαν, ουκ αφήκεν εισελθείν ουδένα ει μή Πέτρος και Ιωάννην και Ιάκωβον και τον πατέρα της παιδος και την μητέρα. Mark 5, 37 και ουκ αφήκεν αυτώ συνακολουθήσαι ει μή Πέτρ. και Ιάκ. και Ιωάν. V. 40 παραλαμβάνει τον πατέρα του παιδίου και την μητέρα και τους μετ’ αυτού. Because Luke gave this description of the company, among whom was also the mother, too early, and could not add it afterwards, when Jesus went on with the work; because, moreover, by mentioning the parents, he made the beginning of his account so full, that he left no room for the description of the mourners, and now merely says, “but they all mourned and lamented the child” (b. 52.), the other confusion has arisen, that at first one understands by these weepers the parents and the next following of Jesus, at least cannot understand why Jesus drives them out, and how now, when (v. 54.) “all” have gone out, the parents can still be present when Jesus performed the miracle (v. 56.).

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Matthew was not exposed to the danger of confusing his predecessor’s account so much, as he had already dismissed the crowd from the beginning; however, he also did not have an interest in including the further nuance that, after the expulsion of the mourners, Jesus went with his own and the parents of the child into the chamber of the dead. Nevertheless, he remains dependent on Mark to the extent that he says, after the expulsion of the people, “he went in” (v. 25 ειςελθων, also a participle); but of course, he cannot tell us where and with whom. He did not need the parents for his purpose because he omits Jesus’ prohibition, which the others report, and instead concludes with the remark, “the news of it spread throughout the whole land.”

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If Mark is recognized as the first creator of the account, then another small detail in his presentation can be explained, which is otherwise considered the surest sign of his inferiority and proof of his standpoint, on which only individual exaggerations of the simpler accounts of his predecessors remained. He gives the words of Jesus that brought the child back to life in an Aramaic form (talitha kumi), so that he and the readers should believe that he gives them in the same form in which the Lord pronounced them. As the first one, he still felt how great the magic must be that is required to bring a dead person back to life, and therefore the words that Jesus used seemed to him to be magic formulas and as such were worth reporting in their original form. However, the later ones considered miracles to be something quite ordinary, so they didn’t know what to do with this magical formula, left it out, and either gave, like Luke, only the Greek translation or reported, like Matthew, only the fact that the girl got up when Jesus took her hand.

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§ 38. The Healing of the Woman with the Issue of Blood

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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 2

—o0o—

124

§ 38.

The Healing of the Woman with the Issue of Blood.

Matthew 9:20-22.


It would certainly be senseless, says Calvin *), to assume that Christ, without knowing who the blessing would affect, had poured out his grace. We must assume without hesitation that he healed the woman with knowledge and will, and only afterwards asked about her because he wanted her to come forward of her own free will.

*) absurdum.

If it were truly absurd to attribute to the Lord a healing power that involuntarily went out from his body, and even settled in his garment, so that the sick person who only touched the edge of it was instantly healed **), then the evangelical account would be meaningless. Because even Matthew, although he leaves out everything that the other two tell, to make it quite certain that the healing was involuntary, cannot blunt this point of the account, indeed he explicitly includes it in his presentation when he says that the Lord had turned around and, when he saw her, called out to her, “Be of good cheer, daughter, your faith has made you well.” Her faith, which made her sure that she would be healed by touching his garment, had already helped her, and if the Lord had to turn around to see who had touched him *), he had previously concluded from some circumstance that someone must have touched him. Mark tells us what he concluded from – he noticed that power had gone out from him – and Luke even transforms this conclusion into a saying of Jesus: “Someone has touched me, for I perceived that power had gone out from me.”

**) This escalation was introduced by Matthew and Luke in the account. Mark only speaks of the garment in general and only exaggerated this simple observation in Chapter 5, verse 56.

*) Matth. 9, 22 ο δε ιησους επιστραφεις και ιδων αυτην. Mark 5, 30 και ευθέως ο Ι. επιγνούς εν εαυτώ την εξ αυτού δύναμιν έξελθούσαν επιστραφείς ….. V. 32 και περιεβλέπετο ιδείν την τούτο ποιήσουσαν.

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All three accounts insist that the healing was involuntary. But strangely enough, the narrator who has proven to be the first one also felt the secret difficulty that would prompt a Calvin to make the harsh pronouncement that the ordinary view is absurd. Mark, in particular, would not want to exclude the (relative) sensible mediation by the will of Jesus, and thus he allows at least a confirmation of the miracle through the will to follow afterwards. He lets the Lord say after the words, “your faith has helped you”: “Go in peace and be healed of your affliction!” But it was too late: with the words “your faith has helped you,” the healing is assumed to have already been completed, and before Jesus turns around and seeks out the person who touched him, the woman had already realized that she had been healed of her illness (Mark 5:29). If we consider that once a miracle was established in the evangelical view, it was only valuable for its wondrous apex and that eventually this apex became so meaningful in memory that individual elements of the original view were lost **), then it is certain that Mark is not only relatively the first narrator but, speaking specifically of this story, the absolute first, the creator, the poet. He still knew what the miracle he was shaping meant, but he also felt the enormous difficulty that the view of miracles had to overcome in this case, and he had to overcome it in two ways as the first one to do so. The idea was firm in his mind; he wanted to demonstrate it through a single case, how the heavenly miracle-working powers had assimilated with the person of Jesus to such an extent and had been bestowed upon him with such an unbounded abundance that they had even passed into the natural constitution of his body and had been communicated to his garments. This idea had already been brought up by Mark before: by the sea, where Jesus had withdrawn after the conflict with the Pharisees (3:10), the people who were plagued actually fell upon him, so that they could touch him *). Now he wants to show by an example how great the miracle-working power of the body and even of the clothes of Jesus was, and to bring the miracle in all its magnitude before the eyes, he can hardly find words that are full and strong enough to describe the severe suffering of the woman. She had already had the flow of blood for twelve years and had suffered much from many doctors and spent all her property on it, but it had not helped her at all, “on the contrary, it had only become worse *).” With the same care and precision of detail, he describes how the sick woman was healed by touching Jesus’ garment and the Lord at least realizes that someone must have touched his garment, as power had gone out from him. Thus Mark did everything to describe the miracle in its immense magnitude and to raise it to the certainty that Jesus did not heal this time by the power of his explicit will: in the end, however, he becomes anxious, he himself is frightened by the boundlessness of the miracle-working power that he had attributed to the body of Jesus, and now, after he had hoped to have already mastered the difficulty of the matter through the accuracy of the description, he realizes that he has only made the immense even more immense and tries to stifle it with the difficulty. But it is too late! The Lord did not need to intervene with his will anymore, as the healing had already been completed. It remains involuntary **). — Oh, when we now see how Mark, the first creator of this view, wavered, how later — see Luke — healing was considered purely involuntary, others claimed Jesus’ will, until finally in modern times the art of interpretation reached such a high degree of development that it understood how to secretly smuggle “Christian consciousness” into the account and now, when it had quietly blown all “materialistic” notions out of its head, dared to assert that the Lord knew very well what was happening behind his back, he even worked with his will and furthermore intended to heal the woman both physically and morally *) — yes, until finally they did not hesitate to speak of the nonsense “of a trust mixed with erroneous conceptions” of the woman, which “was not deceived” **), — when we see all this, this outgrowth of Mark’s simple view, before us as the monstrosities of exegetical anxiety and madness, and when we are finally allowed to conclude this long sentence — what should we do then? Should we still build the Tower of Babylon higher? As if it were possible! One can clearly see that explanations like those of Olshausen and Neander are so crookedly placed on the building and are themselves so extravagant that they are to blame if the magnificent building of exegetical despair, the tower in which reason was to be walled up, finally collapses to the ground. It has fallen; the rubble, the debris only covers the ground; but the dust settles, liberated reason throws the wild rubble aside and brings to light the true foundation on which the first simple structure was built. We have found this foundation in Mark’s view, and in itself, in its ideal simplicity, it is the postulate that the heavenly powers of the godly men pass into the perfect immediacy of sensual tangibility, in which they penetrate bones, clothing, sweat cloths and even finally share in the shadow of holy men. Even after the death of such men, their bones are miraculous (2 Kings 13, 21.).

**) “The proof is provided by Luke: he omits the subsequent confirmation of the miracle through the will (Luke 8:48). In this case, Matthew was motivated by other considerations to shorten the account, but he could only agree to such a shortening because later the details of the miracle accounts lost their significance. He also omits that confirmation and says instead (Matt. 9:22): “And the woman was healed at that moment.” He used his standard formula with which he usually concludes miracle accounts for that subsequent confirmation of the miracle that he reads in Mark. (Compare Matt. 8:18, 15:8.) In addition, he had to fill a gap here, create a pause, and give a note, since he could not provide the information that messengers had come at that moment who reported the death of Jairus’ daughter.

*) Luke mitigates, abbreviates and even leaves out the last part, which was necessary for the contrast. Matthew only says that she had the flow of blood for 12 years – again a confirmation of the assertion that the detail had lost its significance for later readers.

*) πολλούς εθεράπευσεν, ώςτε επιπίπτειν αυτώ, ίνα αυτού άψωνται, όσοι είχον μάστιγας. Vergl. 5, 34 μάστιγoς.

**) This procedure of Mark forms the counterpart to the carefulness with which he proceeds in the story of the daughter of Jairus to the postulate of a resurrection of the dead. Here the carefulness and the anxiousness of a first attempt in the manner of progress is demonstrated, in the story of the woman with the flow of blood the same is demonstrated in the retraction that is made at the end

*) Olshausen, I, 325.

**) Neander, p. 422.

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If this transition of divine power to sensory immediacy in the world of ideal perception persists, we know what to do with it: we simply observe it and recall in it the idea that ultimately generated it, namely, the idea that the elevated historical spirits also work beyond the realm of their rational calculation through the power of their inner content, and that the abundance of their power streams far beyond the limits of their determined will. However, if the apologist wants to impose his quackery on us, that is, to insult our reason and distort the evangelical perception, he will now know what criticism will respond to him. Finally, however, no one will be able to naturalize the sensory perception of the evangelist, as immediate as it is, with flesh and bones in the realm of pure reason. Weisse attempts it, but how? “The concept of miracle,” he says*, “takes for itself such an outward appearance of physical existence, through which involuntary action is also conceivable. Such an outward appearance of the purely physical existence, which is bound to the spirit and mediated by the spirit, takes the place of that allegedly irrational incomprehensibility which dogmatic bibliolatry must predicate of the substance of that power.” However, if Weisse had only respected the earlier views of the theologians, he would not have spoken against dogmatism and rather seen that his assumption of a “pure” physical “existence,” which is again “mediated by the spirit,” and of involuntary action, which is again only mediated by the will, is nothing but the fluctuating and untenable excuse of those excellent learned men. We are far from wanting to improve, develop, or secure these excuses now; the historical perception of the religious spirit cannot be raised immediately into the concept, expanded into theory, or placed in the reality of nature and history, and the only task that can be assigned to us because of it is solely the explanation of its origin, an explanation that we have given when we showed that it is the transfer of the essential determinations and relations of self-consciousness into the sensory and individual aspects of immediate being. As for the physical constitution of historical heroes in reality, their relationship to the spirit – if we exclude artists – is no different than that their powers extend just enough to provide the necessary foundation for the inner struggles and exertions of the spirit.

*) a. a. O. I, 502.

130

The final enlightenment will eventually be found in the report when it is considered in its entirety. The section to which it belongs is preceded by three others: first (C. 1:14-45), Mark explains to us how Capernaum became the center of Jesus’ activity; then (C. 2:1-3:6) he reports to us how the relationship between the new principle and the law developed and the enmity of the Pharisees arose; what the significance of the third section (C. 3:7-4:34) is, will later become clear to us; but if the fourth section (C. 4:35-5:43), which Matthew has also preserved in its entirety, begins with the calming of the storm and ends with the raising of Jairus’s daughter, and between these two limits includes the healing of the possessed and the woman with the issue of blood, then we now know what its purpose and significance are: it is to present the pure and unadulterated revelation of the glory of Jesus in his miraculous deeds, with no other interests interfering. In the first and second (also in the third) sections, there are also enough miracles, but the point with which the reports end, or the purpose they serve in context, diverts attention from the miracle as such and directs it to other interests. On the other hand, the miracle itself should now be viewed, and it is self-evident that it will be colossal, extraordinary, and valuable in terms of interest in every case, depending on the degree of importance, that is, the power of resistance the miracle worker had to overcome even if only by a word. As we can expect from such a skilled composer as Mark is in historical matters, he will arrange the individual miracles according to their degree of significance. Mark has worked excellently. In the storm, the Lord stills the turmoil and rebellion in nature; over there among the Gadarenes, he defeats a legion of devilish spirits, and here, on this shore, he heals an ingrained uncleanness with just a touch of his garment, and finally he kills death with a single word. Can the miracle worker achieve more by defeating the devilish, unclean, and death itself? And can the writer better organize than by first bringing the elements into obedience and finally overcoming the greatest enemy of ordinary consciousness, death? Mark has worked so skillfully in every direction, allowing the entire section to stand out so beautifully from its surroundings, arranging it so appropriately and developing the details that we would do him an injustice as a writer if we were to withhold from him the honor of having shaped and created this entire section.

131

We have already traced back the origins of the first two accounts (of the calming of the storm and of the healing of the possessed), so we only need to draw attention to the indications that prove that the last two accounts were created together. It is already significant and only the work of the writer that the healing of the woman with the issue of blood is inserted into the story of the raising of Jairus’ daughter, precisely at the point where Jesus had set out to heal a sick person and the message arrives that the girl had died. But this was necessary according to the structure of the entire section: the prospect of a struggle with death could not be opened up yet, as the power of Jesus’ body healed the deep-rooted illness of the woman with the issue of blood, and only at the moment *) when the woman’s illness was lifted could the message arrive, which presented the Lord with the more difficult task of fighting death **).

*) Mark 5:35 “While he was still speaking…”

**)From this it will become completely clear how inexpediently Matthew has made a change when he has the father of the child immediately appear with the request for its resurrection.

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Mark has finally used another means to connect both events closely to each other. The woman with the issue of blood suffered for twelve years, and the daughter of Jairus was twelve years old, as is noted at the end of the story in passing to explain why she got up and walked around after being revived (v. 42). Luke did not know that his predecessor was indicating that the child was already at the age where she could get up and walk around on her own, he did not see that Mark needed this detail necessarily to vividly illustrate the awakening of the child. Therefore, he omits the remark that the child walked around again and says at the beginning of the narrative that the child was twelve years old. “The only one” of Jairus, he adds (8:42), by drawing the conclusion from the man’s words in Mark 5:23 “my daughter,” Jairus had no other children. Matthew only reports that the woman with the issue of blood suffered for twelve years, he does not even include the name of Jairus in his account, nor does he say to his readers that his daughter was a twelve-year-old child. He does not appreciate and properly value the detail, even if it is essential in Mark’s writing and serves, as in this case, for the pragmatic connection of two reports.

*) Mark 5:42 και ευθεως ανεστη το κορασιον και περιεπατει ην γαρ ετων δωδεκα. Luke 8:55 και επέστρεψε το πνεύμα αυτής (Mark presents the return of life much better to the view by immediately reporting and painting the consequence) και ανεστη παραχρημα. Luke feels the gap that now arises by leaving out the περιεπατει ην γαρ …, he therefore immediately adds the note: και διεταξεν αυτη δοθηναι φαγειν, a remark that Mark has much more appropriately at the end, after reporting that the child walked around again, that Jesus forbade them to speak of the matter.

133

There is no need to discuss the account of the raising of Jairus’ daughter any further now that the origin of this entire section has been so clearly revealed. However, there are still some things to note about the presentation and literary work.

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§ 37. The Fasting of the Disciples of John

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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 2

—o0o—

114

§ 37.

The Fasting of the Disciples of John.

Matthew 9:14-17.

And then, Matthew continues, as Jesus was dining with that tax collector, the disciples of John came to him and asked, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but your disciples do not fast?” In order to preserve the honor of his protege, who prompted the Pharisees with this question, Schleiermacher **) simply states that “the question from John’s disciples would have been almost naive,” without telling us why, and without considering whether the way Luke has the Pharisees ask the question would make these people appear even more naive. But Luke reports that the same Pharisees who had just grumbled about Jesus’ association with tax collectors and sinners said to him, “Why do the disciples of John fast often and pray frequently, and so do the disciples of the Pharisees, but yours eat and drink?” Anyone who wants to argue that Luke’s account is the original one must make it understandable to us how the Pharisees suddenly adopt the remarkable objectivity of language, speaking of themselves as if they were others or even strangers. Until casuistry is so far advanced that it explains even this peculiar case, it will probably have to be considered as the only possible explanation that Luke only allows the Pharisees to ask the question in this way because he literally copies the question from a scripture in which it is only asked by Jews in general. He did not consistently carry out the modification of the original report and partly let himself be governed by the letter. And yet he himself changed the question, but in the wrong place: he lets the Pharisees ask why the disciples of John and the disciples of the Pharisees fast so much and pray so much, and forgets to change the question so much that he makes the opponents wonder why Jesus’ disciples do not pray. He only writes: “and eat and drink what is appropriate.” He has forced the mention of prayer into the report and only forced it into one half of the report, because even in his narrative Jesus only speaks of fasting, as if prayer were not even thought of in the question. Of course – he writes Jesus’ answer according to Mark. Finally, he does not close the question as it should be: why do not your disciples fast, but rather breaks the rhythm of the question and lets the Pharisees speak: but why do yours eat and drink? This change betrays to us the pragmatism of the evangelist, because already before, when the Pharisees ask Jesus’ disciples: why does he eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners, he has changed it so that the question refers to the behavior of the disciples: why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners? Luke wanted to bring both narratives into immediate connection and now presents the matter in such a way that the questioners are not only the same people, but that their question also refers to the same case, namely the behavior of the disciples. He realizes that even according to his own account, it is not eating in general, but eating and drinking with tax collectors and sinners that is criticized, and he has failed to notice that Jesus’ first answer: “I have come to call sinners” assumes an accusation of the Lord and not of his disciples.

**) Cf. Schleiermacher, p. 79.

*) Still maintained by Neander, p. 228.

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However, according to the original tendency of the account, they must have been decided opponents of the Lord or people whose hostility was already stirring when they took occasion from the disciples’ way of life to accuse the Lord himself. If the question were issued by John’s disciples, it would be inappropriate, if not “simple,” as Schleiermacher thought, unless the historian also explained how they came to such a hostile attitude that they confronted the Lord with the Pharisees. However, Matthew did not provide us with this explanation; he could not provide it unless he wanted to invent a new story like he did on another occasion with the fourth evangelist. And he did not need to provide it because he did not even think that far and only wanted to specify and vivify the indefinite beginning given by Mark’s account. Indeed, at the outset, Mark notes briefly and succinctly – for nothing more was necessary to prepare the reader for the following narrative – “the disciples of John and the Pharisees were fasting” (Mark 2:18), and now he only lets people step forward who take occasion from the way of life of his disciples to accuse Jesus. Of course, he does not leave the matter completely indefinite, since he always lets the Pharisees act hostilely against the Lord before and after, so he certainly thinks of them as the questioners this time too. However, he intentionally keeps the representation in suspense because he wanted to avoid the appearance that both attacks happened during the meal at Matthew’s, perhaps also because of a correct aesthetic feeling, he wanted to avoid the uniformity of the representation and did not want to start every single paragraph with the remark that the Pharisees stood there and carried out the attack. This feeling prompted him, in chapter 3, verse 2, not to mention the Pharisees by name right away and only to note later (verse 6) that it was the Pharisees who had laid in wait for the Lord.

117

The way in which Jesus justifies his discipline must cause a lot of trouble for the theologian who has not yet freed himself from the service of the letter, and eventually, if he wants to save the letter at any cost, force him to kill the life that is really present in the letter. The letter does not kill, if it depends solely on it, i.e. if its living development is not forcibly suppressed, but it is the apologist who kills it. Criticism revives it again and leads it back to the only source of life, into self-awareness.

First, Jesus answers (Mark 2:19-20): Can the wedding guests fast while the bridegroom is with them? As long as they have the bridegroom with them, they cannot fast. But the days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast*). Fasting is not rejected in itself, but it is only appropriate if it happens at the right time, namely in the moment of abandonment.

*) Matthew has nicely shortened it by omitting the answer to the question “can they fast?” and immediately following the question with the indication of when the wedding guests will fast. Luke also abbreviated it in this way. Under the hand of Mark, the definite form of the saying only arose, he still struggled with the moments of thought and therefore sometimes gave the members, which become superfluous when the whole is finished, instead of the short whole.

And without pausing, Jesus continues (Mark 2:21-22): No one sews a patch of new cloth on an old garment. Otherwise, the new piece will pull away from the old, and the tear will be worse. And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. Rather, new wine is poured into new wineskins. That is to say – and this saying is usually understood in this way – do not try to impose the forms of the old on the standpoint on which I have placed mine, otherwise the old will be shattered by the power of the new principle, and instead of gaining a form for the new, one runs the risk of losing it itself. It is unmistakable that the transfer of legal customs to the Christian standpoint can be described and criticized as not only illegitimate but also harmful and corrupting; however, Neander argues that this idea would then be “completely foreign” to the preceding passage *). “What harm does that do?” we might answer, “if only one or both of the passages have a sound sense for themselves.” Oh no! it rings in the apologist’s innermost being, that would be terrible, frightening, because then there would be no way to avoid the admission that we do not have here a saying of the Lord before us, or at least it could no longer be denied that both sayings did not owe their origin to the same occasion at the same time. So let’s just help vigorously, twist, distort, and squeeze! So – the meaning of the second saying is now – “one cannot even reform the old nature of man by forcing fasting and prayer exercises on it from the outside.” Listen: “from the outside!” That’s supposed to be the point! It is true that images must not be anxiously held onto in their individual features, so that one would want to search for a corresponding element in the matter itself for every feature, and one would be rightly said to violate this principle if we were to object to Neander that there is no question here of the old nature of man, since the compared thing is compared to the new wine that one should not put in old wineskins. Well then, let us withhold this objection for a moment, but then we have a much greater right to reject Neander’s explanation and to twist the point, which lies in the determination: “from the outside,” since it is based only on the isolated circumstance that in the first saying there is talk of the patch that one “puts on” an “old” garment. We say, an even greater right! For if two images are brought together to represent the same thing, we can in any case, if the composer is not too clumsy, be sure that the second one will be clearer and more precisely corresponding to the thing. So it is here; it is about the form in which the disciples of Jesus are to grasp the new spirit, and then the second image of the fate of the must, depending on whether it is placed in old or new wineskins, is the one that most closely corresponds to the determinations of the thing itself. But even if it were not the case, the point “from the outside” remains forever lost, as there is no place for it in the second image, unless one believes that the must can be poured into the skins from the inside. The point is not “from the outside”, but rather the idea that only homogenous, new things fit together, that every thing must have its appropriate appearance form – in short, it remains that both images are intended to reject the attempt to bind the new spirit in the old forms of the legal spirit as foolishness, and thus it is again established that the sayings attributed to the Lord here exclude each other. First, it is said that fasting practiced at the right time should not be disapproved, and afterwards, it is described as impossible to unite the old and the new, the new principle and the old forms.

*) ibid., pp. 232-234.

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Luke must have already had a feeling that both sayings were not really connected, he at least makes the transition from one to the other with the formula “he also told them a parable”, which we have already encountered in his writing in places where he put together sayings on his own and could not hide that the connection he intended was not really present *). Finally, Weisse has successfully found that it is “more correct to separate both sayings from each other or at least leave their connection undecided **).” But as we have proven, they must be separated altogether.

*) Luke 5:36 και παραβολήν προς αυτούς. Compare Luke 6:39 είπε δε παραβολήν αυτοίς. Luke 18:1 έλεγε δε και παραβολήν αυτοϊς.

**) a. a. O. I, 483.

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First of all, as a necessary consequence of the above criticism, we would have to state that both sayings did not arise from the same occasion; but if the question is asked which saying arose from the presumed occasion, we might well wonder for which of the two the apologist will decide. But no! We don’t want to know, he doesn’t admit that result at all, and we won’t bother him any further for that reason, since we have nothing more to do with this question and the investigation must take a completely different turn. If only one of the two sayings, and both equally, can be appropriately related to that occasion, then this occasion no longer exists for us as a historical one, and it reveals itself to us as a freely formed category under which Mark has placed sayings that refer to the same collision of the old and the new. Weisse himself must admit that the parables of the garment and the wine “only fulfill their purpose if they are not taken merely as a dismissal of that particular question” – but what does that mean other than: their general scope is out of proportion to that specific occasion, and this disproportionality has arisen because general controversies that the community had to fight through were compressed into a single event in the life of Jesus? Jesus has just appeared – the way of life of his followers cannot yet have been so peculiarly shaped that it caused a sensation, so it could not yet be contrasted with the way of life of the disciples of John. Furthermore, when we consider that real history knows nothing about a special school of John’s disciples, nothing about how a group of followers who were supposed to have gathered around the Baptist (but never existed) lived and behaved according to the law, it is clear that this occasion is pure invention. The struggle of the old and the new, which the community endured, was to be exemplified in an incident from the life of Jesus, or rather the life of the Lord, since it was unknown, could only be taken from the treasure trove of the experiences and events of the community: thus, sayings of far-reaching universality and carefully constructed occasions had to come together. This time, the freedom of the Christian principle was to be brought to the attention of a feature of the life of Jesus: it was fitting that not only the one legal party, namely the Pharisees, confronted the Lord, but the power of the new only appeared in its full scope when even the man closest to salvation had not yet freed himself from the shackles of the old. Instead of the Baptist, who had been displaced from the scene, his disciples had to be placed opposite the Lord, and for that reason alone, Mark had to make this historical discovery that there had been a special circle of John’s disciples, because the saying he wanted to convey this time had the way of life of the community in mind and the disciples of Jesus, who are now the historical image of the community, had to be placed opposite the entire circle of disciples of the old powers.

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The first saying about the fasting of the wedding guests shows itself in all its parts as a later creation. To call oneself “the bridegroom” was impossible for the Lord because at his time the bride, the church, had not yet been born. From the time when the bridegroom was taken away *), he could not speak so briefly that everyone would understand what he meant. No one could know what this strong expression “taken away” meant, even less so since the natural and ordinary circumstances of the bridegroom offer no aspect that could be the self-evident image of the violent rapture of the Lord. Only after the death of Jesus was the saying understandable and where it has its meaning, it was also only formed then.

*) Mark 2, 20. parall. ελεύσονται δε ημέραι, όταν απαρθή απ’ αυτών ο νυμφιος.

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The theologian should actually be grateful to us for restoring this saying to where it originated, because as long as the assumption holds that it belongs to the Lord, and as long as statutory authority is granted to the biblical word, it must also be a law that the church fasts constantly after the rapture of the Lord or, if this is impossible, accepts that law through specific fasting days. However, if it originated in the church, the saying should not be understood so literally, since after the death of Jesus there was no law or custom by which constant fasting was strictly commanded, and it is finally clear that fasting is to be understood figuratively. Matthew understood this correctly and used the more general expression at the beginning of the saying: can the wedding guests “mourn” *), as long as the bridegroom is with them? In short, fasting is the internal pain and sorrow, this feeling of negation that is an essential element in the life of the church due to the memory of the death of the Redeemer.

*) C. 9, 15 πενθείν.

The difference between both sayings, which we had to designate as such at the beginning and which contradict each other, remains, although according to the figurative explanation of the first, it becomes clear that both are not entirely unrelated: in the first, the point is the idea that the church fulfills the legal commandment of fasting in a higher sense, in the pain over the sufferings of their Redeemer – (she dies with her Lord every day) – in the second, the demand that the Old should be the form of the New is unconditionally rejected. Mark was well aware of this resonance of both sayings, namely that they both exercise a negative dialectic against the old law, when he put them together, but it is just as certain that he did not create both freely and from scratch himself. He freely formed the first, the more artificial one, and for the second, he used a general principle, perhaps a proverb that had formed in the church.

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Regarding the saying about new wine and old wineskins, Luke (C. 5, 30) adds another one as if it were in the best context: “And no one who drinks old wine wants new, because he says the old is better.” However, it is difficult, indeed impossible, to find a connection between this saying and the preceding context. “If it is authentic,” says Weisse, “it can only be said to explain the difficulty of penetrating Jesus’ teaching.” *) According to our previous discussions, it is hardly necessary to ask whether a saying of this kind, if it were actually spoken by Jesus, could have been remembered for years; indeed, it is much too meager and thin to be a proverb that was circulating in the community. Proverbs of this meagerness, which do not sharpen into a specific spiritual relationship through the power of their point, owe their origin rather solely to the writer, who, with more or less success, continues a given topic and the already found execution of it on his own. Weisse also considers it “more likely that Luke added the saying off the cuff and without thinking of anything right about it.” Luke did indeed add it, believing that he was putting it in the best context, but he was mistaken, for the mere fact that wine was mentioned before and after, that old and new were talked about in both sayings, is not enough to create a true connection. Nevertheless, if no connection with the preceding, but at least some spiritual meaning can be found in the saying itself, this comes solely from the fact that natural relationships are the images of spiritual determinations in themselves.

*) II. 140.

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§ 36. The banquet of the tax collector Matthew

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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 2

—o0o—

95

§ 36.

The banquet of the tax collector Matthew.

Matthew 9:9-13.


The apologists should finally become wise and stop trying to completely stifle the contradictions in the Gospel accounts with such blind fury, lest they create the impression that the Christian religion stands or falls based on whether these contradictions are stifled or left free. However, it seems as if
a demonic force does not allow these people to rest, constantly driving them to work on this weakest aspect of their system, and making it more damaging through their work, because that is actually the case – their system really must fall if the contradictions are not stifled like they do, and finally, the punishment for their contempt for human freedom and reason should strike them. Even at this moment, they are circling, measuring, pressing, stretching, and doing everything possible with these contradictions, while criticism has recognized them and gained insight into their origin. The recognized contradiction is no longer a contradiction.

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1. The Calling of Matthew.

The man whom Jesus called to follow him away from his tax booth after healing the paralyzed man is called Levi *) by Mark (2:14) and Luke (5:27), but the first Synoptist calls him a certain Matthew. In modern times, the solution to this contradiction was believed to be found in the possibility that “the tradition” had confused two people. Levi, says Sieffert, was called as all three Synoptists report, and his profession was to provide the occasion for that banquet where Jesus’ friendly relationship with tax collectors offended the Pharisees. “But it is certain that the apostle Matthew was also a tax collector before he was called by Christ to be his disciple, although his calling probably did not take place under the same circumstances that relate to the calling of Levi **).” Neander offers another solution to the difference: “It is always possible that the host was another rich tax collector named Levi, a friend of Matthew’s. Thus, the one whose calling provided the occasion for this feast and the host may have been confused with each other through tradition” *). However, all talk of tradition must be rejected from the outset, as it can be proven most clearly here, as previously, that the evangelist whom the church has called Matthew has used nothing but the writings of his two predecessors and his own wit for this narrative **). He noticed with amazement that neither Luke nor Mark mention that Levi, whom they report was called by Jesus to permanent discipleship, belonged to the twelve apostles. How, he asks, could this man not belong to the twelve? Yes, he belonged to them, he is only listed under a different name in the register. But under which name? He knew best, and it was previously believed that he himself was the Matthew from whom the first gospel originated, and whom Mark and Luke only mention under his original Hebrew name when they call him Levi. But if it gives us pause that this man speaks so strangely of himself and, when he immerses himself in history, does so with the formula “then Jesus saw a man named Matthew (ανθρωπον Ματθαιον λεγομενον),” the apologist awaits us with the edifying remark *), we must admire in this circumstance “the receding of subjectivity” which the evangelists **), as chaste historians, manifest who were purely absorbed in their sublime object. What nonsense! As if this were still purity when an evangelist speaks of himself in such a way that the reader is misled. “He saw a man named Matthew” does not simply introduce Matthew – does the apologist not have a Caesar who could teach him otherwise? – but also tells us that this Matthew was an unknown person to the evangelist. He only knew him from the list of apostles provided by Mark (3:18) and Luke (6:15). Luke recorded the story of Levi’s calling and included the list of apostles mechanically, but the synoptist who was preferred and placed first by the church, perhaps because they felt he was the apologist among the three, took offense at Levi not being named among the apostles – no! He was certain that Levi must have been one of the twelve and had hidden himself under another name in the list of apostles, and without much thought, he blindly picked from the multitude of unknown names that the list presented to him. Thus, Levi became Matthew. Both Mark and Luke did not think of identifying the two men, they would not have omitted the least thing that was required of them in this case, they would have at least called Matthew “the tax collector” so that their readers, if lucky, could come to the assumption that this Matthew was the tax collector whose calling they had previously recounted. But both list Matthew without further designation. If the apologist were right, they would not be secure from the accusation that their carelessness had caused unrest in the church for almost two millennia, and if the accusation were taken seriously, they would not be acquitted.

*) Mark calls him even more specifically the son of Alphaeus (τον του Αλφαιου). However, Wilke (p. 673) has convincingly demonstrated that this addition is later and inauthentic. Mark actually “only mentions one N. τον του Αλφαιου”, James in 3: 18, whom he has to distinguish from the other James, the brother of John.

**) Sieffert on the Origin of the First Canonical Gospel, p. 59.

*) L. J. Chr. 253.

**) Already the beginning of his narration (C. 9, 9) και παραγων εκειθεν ειδεν ανθρωποω is structured in such a way that it is only understandable when we compare it with Mark’s account. Παραγων means “in passing,” but how can this formula be immediately connected with the other phrase, “from there”? “In passing,” Jesus can only be thought of if it was said that he had left the place where he was before; but Matthew is silent about this. He does say “from there,” but “in passing.” This expression no longer reflects on the starting point that was left behind, but on the line along which one already finds oneself. The mediation and the movement that led to this line are done with, and just as the starting point is forgotten, the state that has now arisen can be called rest in comparison to that movement. Matthew had to reflect on the starting point and on the preceding movement, but he expressed this reflection disorderly. Why? Because it was tedious for him to deal with these details, which are essential for the appropriate construction of the narrative and which will never be missing in the original account. Because he did not want to copy Mark completely, because copying these minutiae was boring for him, because he was satisfied if he had the petty but essential assumptions of what follows roughly in his head, regardless of whether his readers were orientated in these matters or not, briefly, because he was only concerned with the essential content. Even Luke found this exact copying of the original tedious; he only says in chapter 5, 27: “And after that he went out, and saw a publican, named Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom.” So he does not tell his readers where the customs house was located. Now listen to the original account (Mark 2, 13-14): “And he went out again by the seaside; and all the multitude resorted unto him, and he taught them. And as he passed by, he saw Levi the son of Alphaeus sitting at the receipt of custom.” Compare with John 9, 1: και παραγων ειδεν. Because of John, 8, 59 ιησους δε εκρυβη  . . . διελθων δια μεσου αυτων και παρηγεν ουτως. Compare Luke 4, 30 αυτός δε διελθών διά μέσου αυτών ἐπορεύετο. Παρηγεν Joh. 8, 59 is actually an inaccurate expression, but can still be explained at most: after he had gone “through the midst of them,” he went “quietly” past them “along the crowd” and “further.”

Regarding the difficulty we will find below, if Sieffert (p. 60) says that the first evangelist must have been unaware that the choosing of the twelve apostles had already taken place before the Sermon on the Mount, it has just been shown to us again that he could have easily obtained more precise information on such matters from the writings of his two predecessors if they had not caused him as much scruple as his apologist.

*) z. B, still Olshausen, I, 315.

**) Olshausen says, “the Gospels”! Here, only the haste was at fault for the blunder, but otherwise, the confusion in the language of the apologists proves that their cause itself is nothing but the confusion of self-consciousness. The apologist cannot write better because his cause does not give him courage, strength, and confidence. One only needs to look at the insane statement, “Of course, if Olshausen, at the aforementioned place, is excessively concerned with the retreat of subjectivity and the chastity of the evangelists and then continues a moment later: ‘Certainly, their reflectionlessness is also expressed in this. The twisted and contorted phrases, the uncertainty and lack of coherence in movement, and the pale bloatedness in the language of the apologists—all this dull and exhausting style comes from the untruth and dullness of the matter. If one analyzes the saw they anxiously twist, one must either lose patience because no content rewards the effort, or, if one seeks the truth with them out of fear, become insane, or move beyond this oppressed standpoint, if one wants to remain rational and patient during the analysis.”

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In this important matter, Mark did not reflect yet. The list of apostles was given to him and he did not feel compelled to relate the story of the calling of the tax collector to it – why? Because this story only had value for him in regard to the hostile interaction between the Pharisees and the Lord that arose from it, and because he was only concerned with the development of Jesus’ relationship with the Jewish party in this context. Luke follows him without hesitation, but Matthew, the latest, for whom the pragmatism of his predecessor had become completely foreign, and who no longer wanted to simply copy, reflected – namely in his own way.

Sometimes, however, he did not reflect or could not direct his reflection, which was directed to other things, to circumstances that also cannot be overlooked. His reflection was always only directed to individual points, so it was not all-powerful. But let us not reveal the secret too early; the apologist would be unhappy and would have to despair of everything, and in the end, he believed he was at the end of the world if his miserable worries were taken away from him. Only in his petty obsession with the letter did he have his true self-confidence, and whoever robs him of that is evil.

Luke – namely, Mark is not considered in this world question – first tells of the calling of Levi – that is, of Matthew in the apologetic world – (Ch. 5, 27), then he reports how Jesus, in the solitude to which he later withdrew, chose the Twelve – including Matthew – and held the Sermon on the Mount before them as well as before the crowd that had just arrived (Ch. 6, 12-20). Terrible! The first synoptist reports that Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount before the disciples and the people, before telling us about the calling of Matthew and the determination of the circle of disciples, and the poor apologist must still know Matthew as well as the Twelve if he is to hear the Sermon on the Mount devoutly and with the proper effect! So how can he be helped?

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It is not easy to find a way out of this, as evidenced by the various tortures to which Tholuck has to resort; however, a way out is always found in the end. For the moment, we would have too much to do if we wanted to reflect on “the fact that Matthew also thought about the election of the apostles preceding the Sermon on the Mount, although he does not mention it here or anywhere else” *) – we will soon hear that the first evangelist, in chapter 10, did not report on the election of the apostles at all. Let us focus for now on the core of Tholuck’s explanation. Matthew was already called to be an apostle before the Sermon on the Mount; “but this election may have been something surprising and unexpected for him, he could not simply stay with Jesus, but had to return to his tax business and only here fulfill his obligations completely. And then, after a few days, when Jesus went out of Capernaum again, he found the tax collector sitting at the tax booth, who in the meantime had made his arrangements, and now called him to join him” **).

*) Tholuck, Ausleg. der Bergpr. p. 26.

**) Ibid. p. 28.

That would be a disciple as evangelical belief demanded! It is very unfortunate when Tholuck reminds us of the disciple whom Jesus invited to follow him another time, but who asked permission to first bury his father. What did Jesus answer this young man? And would he – namely he, as he lived, acted and spoke in evangelical belief – not have answered the tax collector just as strictly if he had said after the invitation: “Let me make arrangements first before I follow you?” Furthermore, when we see the tax collector sitting calmly in his booth as Jesus passes by and calls him – for the second time – we do not see that he has made his arrangements in the meantime; he is rather sitting there as if he is thinking about nothing but his daily business. Yes, the narrative would fall apart if the contrast were removed that the man who sits calmly in his tax business is moved to follow Jesus by a word from the Lord and immediately – whoever wants to take care of the business afterwards! – leaves his business.

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But why waste words to prove that the first evangelist knows nothing about an earlier calling of Matthew: we have seen why he immediately reached so far into Luke’s presentation at the beginning and brought forward the Sermon on the Mount and placed it at the forefront of his presentation of the public life of the Lord. Once the Sermon on the Mount had received this place, the account of the calling of the tax collector had to follow later. The evangelist did not care about the consequences of this, and he did not expect the believers to be so troubled by it. He was not always as literal-minded as the later theologians.

 

2. The Banquet.

And as he was reclining at table in the house, the first Evangelist continues, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples at table (Matt. 9:10).

In what house? Fritzsche thinks it was Jesus’ own house *). When? Some time after the calling of Matthew, Fritzsche answers. Certainly! One cannot write more carelessly than Matthew did; but no matter how deficient his account may be, it still reveals, by its structure, the original intention behind it. The house is in contrast to the tax collector’s booth which Matthew had just left, and because he had left it immediately to follow the Lord, the banquet was arranged by him right after his calling. This is what it really says in the original text: “And it came to pass, as he (namely Jesus) reclined at table in his (the tax collector’s) house, many tax collectors and sinners were also reclining with Jesus and his disciples at table; for there were many of them and they followed him” — namely, they followed him from the tax collector’s booth (Mark 2:15) *). Luke further elaborated on Mark’s account when he says (Luke 5:29), “And Levi made him a great feast in his own house.”

*) on Matthew, p. 341.

*) και εγένετο εν τω κατακείσθαι αυτόν εν τη οικία αυτού. Matt. 9:10: και εγένετο αυτού ανακειμένου εν τη οικία.

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3. The Question of the Pharisees.

As Fritzsche says, he does not know how the Pharisees had seen Jesus eating with tax collectors, but it is certain that their question to the disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” had been posed by them later **). They did not even see him sitting at the table himself, but later, de Wette ***), “found out” that he had eaten with tax collectors. But not even in the careless account of Matthew is there a justification for this explanation, because immediately after it was mentioned that the tax collectors were sitting at table with Jesus and his disciples, it is said “when the Pharisees saw” †), so this is supposed to be the immediate consequence of the former. Just as quickly as the striking phenomenon that Jesus is sitting at table with tax collectors and sinners has occurred, the reader is amazed and reflects on the remarkable event, no! before the reader can even come to reflection, the Pharisees are supposed to express their amazement and give occasion for Jesus to interpret and explain the striking appearance. Luke hastens to this point of the report so quickly that he does not even notice that the Pharisees had seen Jesus sitting at table, but immediately says: “they murmured and said to the disciples” *). In the writing of Mark, the matter is correctly presented: “And when the scribes and Pharisees saw him eating with tax collectors and sinners, they said to his disciples, ‘Why does he eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?'”

**) in Matthew, p. 342: posthac aliquando.

***) 1, 1, 92.

†) και ιδόντες οι φαρ.

*) και εγόγγυζον …. λέγοντες.

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4. The Response of Jesus.

“The strong, Jesus answered when he heard the question of the Pharisees **), do not need a physician, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners. The Pharisees, explains De Wette, are, if only comparatively, the healthy and righteous, because they did not live in such injustice as the tax collectors” ***) “Jesus recognizes legal righteousness.” But can there be a harsher, sharper saying than the one which here we see the apologists, out of fear that Jesus might appear too harsh and offensive, dulling? The saying is revolutionary and expresses in a striking point the reversal of the concept and the revolution that entered the world with Christianity, which humiliated the pride of self-righteousness and redeemed the rejected – it is the entire revolutionary irony of the Christian principle, as it cannot be expressed better in its simplest form *).

**) Mark 2:17 and after him Matthew (9:12). The question and answer followed one after the other. Luke hurries back quickly by suppressing the “they” and instead saying in 5:31,  και αποκριθεις ο ιησους ειπεν προς αυτους.

***) see  Handb. 1, 1, 92.

*) Calvin: est ironica concessio. Compare Weisse 1, 481.

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Luke also recorded the saying, probably not because he thought the point was too sharp, but because he remembered that Jesus had come to call for repentance (Mark 1:15) — softened by saying that Jesus said, “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32) **). So he misunderstood the meaning of the saying; for the monstrous thing about the ironic contrast is that sinners are “called to salvation,” while the righteous are rejected, and the kingdom of heaven is destined for those sinners who are considered outcasts by the world.

Matthew also introduced a new element into the saying, interrupting its original movement on the one hand and weakening the impact of the point on the other, by directing the reader’s attention to a point that is outside the direction of the saying. After the words, “The strong do not need a doctor, but the sick do,” Jesus says, “But go and learn what this means ***): ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners” (Matthew 9:12-13). Matthew was the one who introduced this “for/because” – ου γαρ ηλθον – into the saying, and it is precisely this “for” that completely disrupted the coherence of the saying. If one were to retain the “for” as the authentic saying, although it is very dispensable and does not even form an appropriate transition from one half to the other, it could only connect the general statement that the sick, not the strong, need a doctor, and its confirmation by referring to Jesus’ actual purpose. But is there still coherence when the saying of Hosea is inserted between the two sentences? And what does this saying have to do here, where Jesus is speaking about his behavior and only has to speak about it, since the Pharisees had taken offense at his behavior? Finally, even if Jesus wanted to say how others should follow his example, and that he could do so in the midst of the saying that justifies and describes his behavior, could he then possibly think of that saying of the prophet? Never! For the point in this word of the prophet has nothing to do with the thought of the opposite fate that is destined for the righteous and sinners, and it points to a completely different point, namely, where the absolute value of inwardness is decided against external observance of the law. Only the echo that there is a contrast contained in Jesus’ saying and that of the prophet, and that Jesus, when he calls sinners, is practicing the mercy that the prophet recommends, only this echo, which becomes dissonant if one listens to it for more than a moment, has prompted the evangelist to insert this saying here *).

**) εις μετάνοιαν.

***) μαθετε τι εστιν. On another occasion, Matthew lets the Lord quote the same saying of Hosea with the same formula – on his own authority: C. 12, 7 ει δε εγνωκειτε, τι εστιν.

*) Cf. Wilke, p. 349.

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5. Credibility of the Report.

The main saying itself, which is short but of tremendous power and penetration, seems to be entirely genuine and to have originated on this occasion; nevertheless, we are forced to make a remark, or rather we have just made it and have not yet expressed it, which will shake and completely overthrow the assumption that we have really received many sayings of Jesus literally handed down to us in the Gospels. In any case, we no longer have a definite occasion on which the saying could have arisen, the one at least that Mark reports to us, we have lost it in our contemplation.

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For religious belief, however, when it artistically shapes and works out its inner determination into history, the scene in which the tax collector immediately follows the first call of Jesus, abandons his tax booth and violates his duty, can be held, because in it it sees the power of Jesus’ word and sees it all the more surely, the more the tax collector was bound by his duty to the post he left and the more ruthlessly he left it. What in the world of religious belief is called faith and zeal for the Lord is in the real and human world forgetfulness of duty; what in that world is natural and simple form, in this world is a storm that whips all relationships together wildly and tears them out of their sockets; what is possible in that world is impossible or insane in this one. By their tortured interpretations, the expositors have already betrayed to us that it is incomprehensible how the Pharisees could be immediately at hand to object to the striking spectacle of this banquet, how they could express their amazement to the disciples, and finally, how Jesus could hear their accusation and answer them. Religious belief does not concern itself with such difficulties; for intelligent contemplation, these difficulties are things of impossibility.

Only the remark about the saying! One only needs to make it oneself— a glance at the accounts of the three Synoptics is enough. Luke and Matthew had the written letter in the scripture of Mark before them, and what did they make of the saying? Luke gave it a different and even inappropriate meaning, while Matthew made its meaning unclear by splitting the punchline and inserting a foreign one. If this happens to a saying that they read in writing, what will happen to the fate of a saying that wanders around in the memory of a scattered community composed of heterogeneous elements for who knows how many years? Well, we don’t need to be concerned about it, as it cannot wander around in this unstable, changeable element, since it will become different in every head, in every particular circle, and assume new forms — that is, there can no longer be talk of a particular saying. It would have been very little indeed if the first followers of Jesus had brought and shared nothing more than a couple or hundreds of sayings from their life together with the Savior; they could neither have founded a community nor overcome the world with that. Rather, it was principles, principles, general views, and the creation of a new essential world that gave the community its existence, which initially occupied it alone and later drove it to create individual views, punchlines, contrasts, and sayings. The specific, individual is shaped only when the essence and the general have become common property and firm possession of a life circle, after the view of the essence and the essential principles had formed again from a series of individual stimuli, influences, and impacts. Jesus had given his own and the world this impetus — but not through individual sayings alone, not even through sayings that were in fact the expression of the new principle in the broadest sense, but by infinitely expanding the soul of his own through the endless series of his influences, which they had never suspected until then, and thus deeply shaking it that they were finally — after his departure — forced to bring this inner expansion to self-consciousness in the thought of the new principle and in the view of the essential world and to trace it back to its simplest expression. The moment that created this expression gave the community its life, and its first vital movements and efforts were — as the Pauline letters prove — directed towards further defining this expression — but still initially in the form of general principles. From these principles, the sayings of Jesus were formed later, which the anachronism that always creeps into religious views makes the first historical expression and the basis of those principles in the Gospels that emerged when the general interest of faith became historical.

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So in this case, Mark has expressed the irony of the Christian principle sharply, purely, and effectively in the saying he puts into the Lord’s mouth. The opportunity for this was easily found: the tremendous word had to be spoken against the self-righteous Pharisees, the condescension of the Lord who associates with the rejected – with tax collectors and sinners – had to give rise to the occasion, and so that this occasion – the banquet where association even as eating and drinking with the despised appears – would naturally come about, the tax collector who is organizing the banquet to bid farewell to his former friends must be summoned.

Mark has constructed this story only for the context in which he allows the collision between the Savior and the Pharisees and scribes to arise, and at this moment he does not think beyond this context. He does not, therefore, think of comparing this account, which he created for a special purpose, with the list of the twelve apostles and putting them in connection. He could not yet carry out this work. That story of the tax collector had just been created by him, while the list of apostles was given to him; but the list tells him nothing about a Levi, nothing about a tax collector who belonged to the Twelve; so it was impossible for him to insert that tax collector into the list. For the first Synoptist, for this pragmatic artist, these difficulties no longer existed; he could compare and put both calmly in connection, and he did it boldly enough by blindly inserting that tax collector as Levi’s substitute and making him a tax collector.

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Luke has not yet compared, but, as he usually does, has copied from Mark. Instead, he has done something else, namely used the point of Mark’s story to create a new story, or rather to spin this story – it is that of Zacchaeus – from it. Everything in this story, from the name of the tax collector which from the outset should indicate the inner purity of the man *), to the fact that Jesus addresses him by name, even though he was previously unknown to him and had climbed a mulberry tree to see him **), since how can chance, the name of a person, be known to another person other than through experience – everything has been purified. To secure the evidence, we are allowed to anticipate a later investigation here. On the journey to Jerusalem, Mark reports (chapter 10, 46-52) that as Jesus passed through Jericho and went through the gate ***), a blind man who was standing by the roadside called out to him for help, and after Jesus had restored his sight, the man followed him on the journey †). Mark intended for a witness of his miraculous power to follow the Lord on the way to Jerusalem. Luke says that Jesus healed the blind man when he was near Jericho, simply stating that the blind man followed the Lord, omitting the words “on the journey,” since he only needs the blind man for the pomp of the procession through the city. He now fills the gap he still feels by saying that the healed man praised God and that the entire crowd, which was witness to the miracle, joined in this praise. It is clear why Luke has made changes – he wants to make the procession through Jericho more magnificent, and by giving the Lord a praising entourage, he motivates the curiosity of the chief tax collector *) in a striking way.

*) זַכָּ֔י, the pure, the louder, e.g. Ezra 2: 9.

**) Luk. 19, 5: Zacchaeus,  descend with haste.

***) εκπορευομένου αυτού από Ιεριχώ.

+) ήκολούθει τώ Ι. εν τη οδώ.

*) εζήτει ιδείν τον Ι. τίς έστι.

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“Today I must stay at your house,” Jesus calls to Zacchaeus, who is still sitting in the tree. He quickly climbs down and joyfully welcomes his guest, who had invited himself. And when they saw it, they all murmured, saying, “He has gone in to be guest with a man who is a sinner.” Weisse **) thought he had to praise the “living individuality” in this story, but it may not be called nitpicking if we ask who are the “all” who murmur about Jesus’ kindness to the tax collector, and if we answer that from the context it is not only inexplicable but also purely impossible that everyone should have had such an attitude towards the Lord. Only the people had been mentioned before. But if they had just praised God for the healing of the blind man and followed the miracle worker in fervent zeal on the triumphal procession through Jericho, how is it possible that all of a sudden they should change their minds? If Jesus had compassion on the blind man and therefore received praise, he could also be merciful to a “sinner” without being rebuked. Olshausen says, “the Pharisees” murmured ***), but how else can he know than from a story that the evangelist at this moment has in mind, even copying it carelessly and hastily, borrowing only the punchline (the people’s accusation) and, because he is only concerned with this, forgetting to indicate who was murmuring about the Lord? In short, Luke has given the account he had already copied from Mark on his own, with a variation for the second time †). He also repeats the saying that the Son of Man came not to call the righteous, but sinners, in a different, free-form when he has the Lord say he came (C. 19:10) to seek and to save the lost.

**) a. a. O. II, 176,

***) a. a. O. I, 765.

†) Luke 19:7: και ιδοντες – He has the text of Mark before him and picks up the ξαναρρίπτων that he had let fall earlier in Luke 5:37 – πάντες εγόγγυζον, λέγοντες, ότι παρά αμαρτωλω ανδρί εισήλθε καταλύσαι.

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It is actually superfluous to note that the following words of Zacchaeus and Jesus are not appropriate to the context: even if they were much better formulated and seemed to flow naturally from the occasion, the fact remains that the occasion was contrived. When the people murmured, Zacchaeus stepped forward and said, “Behold, Lord, half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold” (Luke 19:8). But that would be a beautiful “sinner,” as the Lord desires, if Zacchaeus stepped forward so confidently and said he was one of those tax collectors who acted as the Baptist had commanded (Luke 3:13). He does indeed want to defend himself against the popular cry of “he stays with a sinner,” but it was still inappropriate to enumerate the virtues that adorn him. And how he praises himself! The first part of his self-praise, “I give half of my goods to the poor,” is boastful, and the second part, “if I have defrauded anyone, I restore it fourfold,” is even more ambiguous and only arose from the fact that Luke wanted to incorporate the reminiscence of his saying of the Baptist, “take no more than what is prescribed for you,” into the tax collector’s speech. Even Jesus’ speech is not very successful for the evangelist, indeed he does not even know how to introduce it properly when he addresses it to Zacchaeus *), although the saying that the Son of Man seeks the lost, as is done correctly in Mark’s account **), must be directed immediately against the self-righteous. Even Luke could not help but develop Jesus’ speech in such a way that it was addressed to strangers, not to Zacchaeus. “Today,” Jesus says, “salvation has come to this house, since he too is a son of Abraham.” In fact, we need only to have rid ourselves of the bad habit of taking every word as given *), to see how it is more similar to a timid retreat than a bold attack on the proud and the divine defense of sinners and the lost, when Jesus justifies or rather excuses his choice of the tax collector by saying that he too – και αυτος – is a son of Abraham, just like the dissatisfied and envious critics!

*) V. 9: είπε δε προς αυτόν.

**) Mark 2, 17: noi héyal aŭrois ουκ ήλθον καλέσαι.

*) and thinks it is sufficient to explain by exchanging the words of the text with a couple of others that mean the same thing. Thus Olshausen, I, 765: “As an Abrahamite, he had the next right to salvation.” Similarly, de Wette, I, 2, 96.

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Once again – for the third time – Luke has taken the narrative of Mark word for word to let the point emerge in new variations. But they all, Luke says in chapter 15, verses 1 and 2, came near to him, all (!) tax collectors and sinners, to hear him. Then the Pharisees and scribes murmured **) saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” “He eats with them” belongs to Mark’s scripture; “He receives sinners” is a later reflection of the community, a reflection which praises the beneficence and mercy as such, namely as an exalted quality of the Lord, and could not be more appropriately placed than here, where it is reported as a reflection of the Pharisees. “He receives sinners” is the theme of the parables of the lost sheep, coin, and son that follow (chapter 15, 3-32). Later, when Matthew gives us the opportunity, we will examine these parables and similar passages in the third Gospel, in which the acceptance of sinners is praised in more detail; for now we only notice – which is actually superfluous – that this third outbreak of the Pharisees’ displeasure is patterned after Mark’s narrative *) and that Luke had in mind this section of his own writing, in which the word “lost” was used three times (verses 6, 9, 32), when he later formulated the general principle in the narrative of Zacchaeus that the Son of Man has come to seek and save that which was lost.

**) και διεγόγγυζον οι φ. και οι γρ. λέγοντες, ότι ούτος αμαρτωλούς προσδέχεται και συνεσθίει αυτοίς.

*) The Pharisees say: “He eats with sinners!” and before that it was only reported that the tax collectors and sinners came near to hear him!

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§ 35. The Healing of the Paralytic

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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 2

—o0o—

87

§ 35.

The Healing of the Paralytic.

Matthew 9:2-8.

The boldness with which Jesus exclaimed to the paralytic, “Child, your sins are forgiven!” seemed like blasphemous presumption to the present scribes. Jesus recognized in their hearts *) their thoughts and said to them, “Why do you think such things in your hearts? What is easier to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or:

*) Only Mark 2:8 has the addition: τω πνευματι for he was the first to feel the need to explain the miraculous fact that Jesus recognized the secret thoughts of the scribes. Luke omits the addition, he only says επιγνους τους διαλογισμους αυτων, and Matthew (9:4) even says: “And Jesus, knowing their thoughts” – εἰδὼς; for the later generations it goes without saying that Jesus instantly understood people’s inner thoughts.

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Rise, take up your bed and walk?” But to show them that as the Son of Man he had the authority on earth to forgive sins, he said to the paralytic, “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home.” “And immediately he rose up, took up his bed and went out before them all. *)” Thus ended the story, according to Mark 2:12, and the people were amazed and praised God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!” Luke confused the conclusion by his redundancy: first, saying that all were amazed, then that they praised God, and finally that they were filled with fear, saying, “Today we have seen strange things.” He also introduced confusion by saying earlier (Luke 5:25) that the healed man went home, praising God δοξαζων τον θεον. This praise was originally only intended for the conclusion, as the people saw the formerly paralyzed man leave the house, healed and healthy (Mark 2:12 εξηλθεν εναντιον παντων).

When Mark notes at the end of a miracle story that the people or the disciples were amazed **), and often uses vivid colors to paint their amazement, it was once thought that this was proof that he wrote after Matthew and Luke and had no choice but to exaggerate the short, casual and unguarded reports of his predecessors. This was very unjustified! On the contrary, we have just seen how Luke has overloaded and confused the simple and natural conclusion of his predecessor’s account. Matthew had to reveal to us through his clumsiness in changing the conclusion of the account of the calming of the storm that he could no longer find himself in the representation of his predecessor, or at least could not leave it unchanged. He will prove to us again shortly that by transcribing the writing of Mark and changing its details, he did not necessarily improve it from a pragmatic perspective. He will show us this again, also in the concluding remarks to accounts of miracles.

*) Mark 2, 10-12: λέγει τα παραλυτικώ· σοι λέγω, έγειραι, άρον τον κράββατών σου και ύπαγε εις τον οίκόν σου, και εγερθείς ευθέως και άρας τον κράββατον εξήλθεν εναντίον πάντων. Luke 5, 24 hat ſtatt zpáßßatov zhuvidiov. Matth. 9, 6 shivrv. Compare temporarily John 5, 8, 9: λέγει αυτώ ο Ιησούς, έγειραι, άρον τον κράββατών σου και περιπάτει, και ευθέως εγένετο υγιής ο άνθρωπος» και ήρε τον κράββατον αυτού και περιεπάτει. John 5. 5, 14 μηκέτι αμάρτανε, ίνα μη χείρόν τί σοι γένηται. Further V. 18 ίσον εαυτόν ποιών τω θεώ compare with Mark, 2, 7 τί ούτος λαλεί βλασφημίας και τις δύναται αφιέναι αμαρτίας, ει μή είς ο θεός; Luke 5, 21 ει μη μόνος ο θεός; Matth. 9, 3 let the scribes say only:  οὗτος βλασφημεῖ; he doesn’t dwell on the individual anymore because he believes every reader will interpret the meaning of the reproach as he himself does.

**) See C. 4:41: “Who is this, that even wind and sea obey him?” Mark 5:20: “And they were amazed beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.’” Mark 7:37: “And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.’”

At times, Mark omits to mention that everyone was amazed, but never without reason; he then creates another contrast at the end or intends to connect the following event closer to the miraculous deed. For example, after the Sabbath healings, the Pharisees “immediately” decide to destroy Jesus (Mark 3:6). Also, in Mark 1:34 and 3:12, he doesn’t want to be made known by demons. After the miraculous feeding (Mark 6:45-46), he immediately forces the disciples to go ahead of him across the sea, and he himself escapes to the mountain. After healing the deaf-mute demoniac, the disciples ask in Mark 9:28 why they couldn’t cast out the demon. Peter’s mother-in-law, freed from fever, waits for the guests in Mark 1:31. In contrast, the amazement of the people is expressed strongly elsewhere! Also, compare the amazement of the disciples in Mark 6:51!

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The matter is to be understood quite differently, and this – the only correct – interpretation is not unimportant for the development of criticism, as it is fatal to the miracle stories. If Mark lets the people or the disciples be beside themselves with amazement at the miraculous deeds of the Lord, this amazement is the objective and plastic expression of what was happening in the view of the community and the writer who shaped it, as faith in the heavenly power of the Redeemer became historical belief and created a new, wonderful history. The religious self-consciousness itself was beside itself, and with every new enrichment of the Gospel miracle story it was beside itself, and although the miracle power of the Lord was certain to the writer who worked for the community, it was still an involuntary feeling that these specific types of miracles were new, and his feeling, as well as the impression these reports made on the community, had to be incorporated into the historical narrative itself. The amazement of the crowd and the disciples is the amazement and restoration of the original evangelist and his contemporaries.

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Luke writes down the formulas that express this amazement without significant changes, but Matthew proves the correctness of our interpretation through the changes he attempted to make to the original account. Either he suppresses the remark that Jesus’ deed aroused admiration (as in the account of the healing of the Gadarene demoniac), or he exchanges his predecessor’s strong expressions (“they were amazed,” “they were beside themselves”) for the milder expression that they were simply surprised. When Mark reports that even the disciples were amazed, he says that “the people” in Jesus’ surroundings marveled (as in Mark 8:27 and 14:33). And when finally in Mark’s account the people are amazed at the wondrousness of the deed in general, Matthew says that they were amazed at the power of this particular deed. That’s how he did it this time. To the scribes Jesus said, “So that you may see that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins, I say to you, rise up, take up your bed, and go home.” Accordingly, in Matthew 9:8, the people praise God for giving “such” power to people. And now, “people!” It is not so much the miracle-working power of Jesus that is the cause of amazement, but rather the fact that in Jesus’ power the whole of humanity is considered, elevated, and glorified by God. When Matthew wrote, the world of wonder was already established to such a degree and the view already so deeply rooted that it seemed inappropriate to make a big deal out of the miracle.

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If we are asked to discuss the so-called credibility of the report, the theologian in us and the theologian outside who scrutinizes us demand it. Well then! The amazement of the crowd is depicted, but the crowd itself only came together in such great numbers that it blocked the way to the house where Jesus was staying and prevented the faithful bearers of the sick man from reaching him, because it wanted to take advantage of Jesus’ presence and insisted that he leave as quickly as he did during his first visit to Capernaum. For the same reason, they absolutely wanted to bring the sick man to Jesus. However, we have already recognized the first visit, that is, the one described by Mark, as the work of the writer. Furthermore, how could Jesus know what the scribes were thinking in their hearts? Jesus knows because that’s what Mark wants, because the evangelist wants to report the following speech about forgiveness of sins and miraculous powers, and the scribes must take offense at it this time because the arrangement of this report demands it, namely, that the hostility of the scribes should first be expressed as inner dissatisfaction and then gradually become more evident until finally (Mark 3:6) the opponents of the Lord conspire to bring about his downfall. As for how the bearers could bring their stretcher onto the roof of the house, we will not ask, as the apologist will torture us with the excuse that they took a – at any rate, very long and arduous – detour; but how they could break open the roof and enter the room where Jesus was, without damaging the assembly in the room or fatally injuring anyone’s head, no one will tell us, at least no one who would try to persuade us that we should consider the report as credible. Operations of this kind, such as breaking open a roof over a room filled with people, only cease to be dangerous when they are carried out in the realm of ideal perception.

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In Jesus’ words, “which is easier to say, ‘your sins are forgiven’ or to say, ‘get up and walk’?” the most convincing proof for the assertion that he performed miracles had to lie if they were really his words. But to believe this is hindered by nothing less than their content. The scribes took offense at Jesus speaking as if he had the power to forgive sins. Jesus now wants to prove that he does indeed possess and can exercise this power: “For which is easier, to forgive sins or to perform miracles? Clearly the former; therefore, if I can do the more difficult, as I will now show, then it cannot be doubted that I also have the authority for the easier.” The conclusion is understandable, but for whom? For the consciousness to which the Savior’s miraculous power is the strongest and compelling proof of his authority. However, this consciousness has only formed him, not Jesus! As understandable as he may be, he is incorrect, untrue, because the power of the spirit to forgive sin and to undo what has been done is surely greater than the most enormous miracle, which only suspends a natural law, as the spirit surpasses nature infinitely through its power, interiority, intensity, i.e. through its ability to resist. The man who shook the world by expanding self-awareness to infinity and revealed it as the power over sin, this man could never have made the statement that the miracle was greater than the act of forgiving sins. It was only in the later community that the saying and the occasion that brought it forth were formed. When, namely, the religious-historical view of Jesus’ authority to forgive sins wanted to become truly certain and to view its proof through the power of miracles in one focus, it was indeed appropriate that a sick person be brought before the Lord, since illness was considered a punishment for sin and in its healing the abolition of sin also appeared externally, just as Jesus most clearly demonstrated his power over sin when he performed what was perceived as the more difficult task, namely, lifting the visible appearance of sin. It is also very appropriate and a correct instinct of view that the scribes are set up as opponents; to Jewish consciousness, it indeed seemed impossible that the spirit could gain mastery over its inner determinacy, including sin.

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If the point of the report is based on the assumption that illness is a punishment for sin *), then the result of our criticism relieves us of the question of whether Jesus assumed a positive connection between sin and illness. We do not know how he saw the matter, but we do see from the Gospels that in the early church the Jewish view of that connection still held, at least to the extent that it was still accepted unreservedly when needed for pragmatic reasons.

*) Weisse, I, 480 notes that the report does not assume that “every individual illness is a specific punishment for sin.” That is correct, but does not address the matter and does not negate the actual assumption. It was only the reasonable uncertainty and inconsistency of the Jewish consciousness if that view was not taken out of its generality and applied to each individual case. The embarrassment of this application to the individual would have entangled the legal consciousness in too many contradictions and would have led to the dissolution of the view earlier than it actually happened. The evangelists assume lengthy and ingrained illnesses when they use the Jewish view for their narratives.

The story of the man born blind in the fourth Gospel provides us with evidence that the difficulties of the Jewish view, when applied to individual cases, were not hidden and gave rise to casuistic questions. A similar proof is provided by the Gospel of Luke. Once people come to Jesus and report to him about the Galileans whom Pilate had killed while they were offering sacrifices. Jesus answers, “Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you too will all perish. Or do you think that those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. (Luke 13:1-5) The story tells us nothing about those Galileans. Of course, Olshausen *) says, “among the countless horrors that the Romans committed against the Jews, the slaughter of some unknown Galileans was like a drop in the ocean.” If this is so and no one can find the drop that has disappeared into the sea, then Luke would have known nothing about Pilate’s act, just as he knew nothing about the eighteen who were killed by a tower in Jerusalem. But the statement of Jesus, which referred to these accidents, has preserved the memory of them! Now, finally, make it understandable to us how a saying like this, a saying that truly has no such significant content, could have been preserved until the time of Luke – and even in tradition? The saying is freely formed and formed by Luke himself only in the present context, since before and after that it was said that one had to get one’s affairs in order and repent before it was too late. Before: if you go with your adversary to the magistrate, make an effort to settle with him on the way, lest he drag you to the judge; after: if the fig tree does not bear fruit, it will be cut down (Luke 12:58-59; 13:9) **). In the middle, Luke placed a saying that recommends the same consideration for the end, and is only different in its starting point from the other two, just as they differ from each other with regard to the epigrammatic preparation and the starting point.

*) B. C. I, 639.

**) Even the construction of the sentences corresponds to each other: Luke 13:5: ἀλλ’ ἐὰν μὴ μετανοήτε, πάντες ὡσαύτως ἀπολεῖσθε; Luke 23:9: εἰ δὲ μήγε, εἰς τὸ μέλλον ἐκκόψεις αὐτήν.

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For the saying that concerns us here, Luke used the casuistic question that arose from the dissolution of the legal consciousness, namely the question of whether the misfortune is truly a punishment for sinfulness and proves the guilt of the suffering, since there are so many sinners running around who are spared from all misfortune. No, says Luke, their punishment will catch up with them in the end.

The apologist may still answer the question of how Jesus could immediately rebuke the people who innocently brought him the news of Pilate’s deed: Do you think these Galileans were especially sinful? At least he must answer the question, i.e., become a poet and create a new story if “credibility” is to be maintained. We have answered the question by saying that the address breaks out so prematurely because Luke is only concerned with this punchline and the occasion only needed to be mentioned as far as the reader needed to know to which event the saying referred.

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§ 34. Arrival on the Other Side

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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 2

—o0o—

77

§ 34.

Arrival on the Other Side.

Matt. 9:1

Matthew combined two departures from Capernaum into one in chapter 8, verse 16, and since he had already reported on the most important event of the first departure – the healing of the leper – he only needed to report on the events of the second departure – the calming of the storm and the healing of the possessed. This was all very easy and could be done without effort, although the evangelist made a mistake when he reported the departure of the Lord. However, the situation became more difficult later when the return to Capernaum had to be reported, as important events followed both departures that now had to be arranged in a way that formed a single sequence. Let’s see if Matthew has overcome the difficulties.

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1. The Bringing of the Paralytic.

Matthew 9:1-2.

Jesus had just arrived in Capernaum when a paralyzed man was brought to him on his bed. And seeing “their faith” *), he said, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven.”

“Their faith!” What did this mean? How did it show itself? We are not told, because the mere fact that they brought the sick man is not so significant and extraordinary in itself that it could testify to their faith and attract Jesus’ special attention. The account of Mark clarifies the matter. When it was heard in Capernaum that the Lord was back home, the crowd immediately gathered, so that there was no room even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Then came the people who carried the paralyzed man on the bed – there were four of them – but because of the crowd, they could not get close to him, so they uncovered the roof where he was and broke it through, and let the sick man down on the bed in front of Jesus. So when he saw their faith **), he said to the paralyzed man, “Take heart, my child, your sins are forgiven!” Luke also portrays the situation in such a way that the carriers did not know how to bring the sick man inside because of the crowd, so they climbed onto the roof and, by removing the tiles, lowered the sick man on the bed down into the midst of the people before Jesus. However, the fact that Luke, who was the later writer and used the account of Mark, could take for granted certain presuppositions found in it as so natural that he forgot to communicate to his readers that Jesus was in a house. The readers must learn the situation from the circumstances later. Only a writer who has the representation of another in front of him, and finds the specific presuppositions given in it present and coherent in his consciousness, tells a story like this, but precisely because they are already too familiar and present to him, he no longer has the need to intelligently process them in his presentation. He was also forgetful this time because he added new elements to the beginning of his report, namely, he noted beforehand that “Pharisees and scribes were sitting there, who had come from every corner of Galilee, Judea, and Jerusalem, and that the power of the Lord was just right to heal them.” Anyone who engages in so much pragmatism naturally does not find a place for such an insignificant note as that Jesus was in a house, especially if he is a writer who pragmatizes so unluckily. “To heal them!” Αυτους! Who are these “them?” Luke did not say, as he had only mentioned the Pharisees and scribes before, but they had not come to be healed of illnesses, but we do not know why. It is very unlikely that they had come with hostile intentions from the beginning, since the Lord had just appeared and was still unknown to them, and it was only through the bold words, “Son, your sins are forgiven,” that he provoked their resistance. Therefore, Mark mentions them only at the moment when they take offense at the Lord’s boldness. And now the Pharisees and scribes are said to have come from all over Palestine, now that the Lord has barely appeared! Luke wrote down the note after Mark and borrowed it from the beginning of a story, which he does not exclude or at least reproduce in a substantially altered form in his own writing *) — a proof that he already had an approximate plan of the whole in his head at the beginning of his work and already knew what he wanted to change about that story of Mark’s, but also a proof of how an evangelist could err when he partially changed the pragmatism of his predecessor and yet retained the letter. When Mark says, “And the Pharisees came to him, and some of the scribes, who had come from Jerusalem,” he says it in the right place, and we understand how it was possible that the people of Jerusalem now became aware of the Lord. He had soon concluded his Galilean activity, the time of his journey to Jerusalem was not far off, and now it was appropriate for the capital to send its messengers so that the connection with it could be opened. Finally, Luke immediately says at the beginning of his story, “And the Pharisees were sitting there,” without realizing that Jesus, before whom they were sitting, was in a house — but why did he also write down these words from Mark without first indicating the presuppositions that Mark gave the reader *)?

*) έδων την πίστιν αυτών.

**) Mark 2:5: ιδών δε την πίστιν αυτών.

*) Mark 7:1, Luke 11:37. Compare Mark 3:22, Luke 11:15.

*) Mark 2:6: ήσαν δέ τινες των γραμματέων εκεί καθήμενοι. Luke 5:17: και ήσαν καθήμενοι φαρισαίοι.

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Let’s return to Matthew. It can no longer be denied that his account lacks an essential motive and that he does not allow us to see the faith of the people that Jesus sees, even though we must see it if the narrative is to be understandable. He has borrowed a transition from Mark’s account – (But when Jesus saw their faith) – but has not touched upon the starting point, that is, he has formed a transition that is nothing less than a transition. He could not proceed otherwise, as it was difficult for him to abandon the literary transition to Jesus’ bold words or to replace it with a new one, and on the other hand, he was not allowed to tell the extraordinary circumstances that gave rise to those words. The carriers are determined to bring the sick man to the Lord despite all obstacles and at this very moment – but why are they in such a hurry? Why do they break through the roof? Does it really have to happen now, and can’t a person with a non-acute illness like paralysis wait a day? No! Because Jesus is only a guest in Capernaum, and if the last time he only stayed one night in Peter’s house and left unnoticed early in the morning, then it is possible that he only stayed one night this time as well, and the sick man had to be brought to him now, had to be brought by all means. But in Matthew’s account, Capernaum has become Jesus’ permanent residence, “his city”, so if it was likely, even certain, that Jesus would stay here for a longer time, then the effort of those people and their recklessness in breaking through the roof would have been very hasty, inappropriate, and inexplicable.

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In short, only Mark has made it understandable to us how the Lord could be received upon his return from a journey in such a way that he had cause to be amazed at the people’s faith – but not Matthew.

Now it’s time to move on to the second return!

 

2. The Request of Jairus.

Matthew 9:18.

Jesus had just been speaking about fasting in the home of the tax collector Matthew when one of the Jewish leaders, whom Mark and Luke call Jairus, comes to him and asks him to bring his daughter, who had just died, back to life. Jesus follows the father to his house and on the way, the woman with the issue of blood is healed by touching his garment. However, Mark and Luke present the matter in such a way that Jairus, a synagogue leader, meets the Lord just as he lands on this side of the shore, having been expelled by the Gadarenes, and is received by the crowd waiting for him here. Jairus only says that his daughter is dying, and only later, as Jesus goes with the crowd to save the child and speaks to the woman with the issue of blood, do messengers come from Jairus’ house to inform him that it is now pointless to trouble the Master, as his daughter has died.

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Matthew, according to Calvin, wanted to be brief and therefore immediately began with what happened later in time *). But why did he want to be brief? There is even a question whether he was allowed to do so – no! not even a question! we must say outright that he could not have done so if he knew the details, as reported by Mark and Luke. If Jairus had only asked for help for his daughter, even if she was very ill, there was still a spark of life that the miracle worker only needed to ignite, and we can at most consider it possible that the father thought of seeking help. He was also faithful in this case; but how immense will his faith be changed when the matter is presented as if he had asked from the beginning for the resurrection of his deceased daughter. Bengel suspects that Jairus may have expressed the request that Matthew puts in his mouth only when he received the message of his daughter’s death **). But then Luke and Mark do not even dare to ask Jairus for his child’s life when the message of his death came, and they could have done so if it had been possible in any way, since they had put the request for the salvation of the sick daughter in his mouth before. Would it not have been an appropriate escalation if the man’s requests had followed in this way? Both evangelists, however, did not consider it appropriate; they rather let the man be silent when the news of his daughter’s death arrived, and only let the Lord say: “Fear not, only believe!”

*) compendio studens.

**) ita dixit ex confectura aut post nuntium acceptum de filia mortua, quam reliquerat morti proximam. Calvin, as usual the most sober and thoughtful of apologists, almost only reports the facts about the relationship of the reports in a general formula. Bengel theorizes, creates a new story, and does not notice that Matthew’s account does not yet match the subsidiary reports even in the new form it has taken under his hands; for if Jairus really had already feared from the outset by conjecture that his daughter was dead, and had then arranged his request accordingly, then the more precise report of Mark and Luke can no longer exist. Augustine says in De cons. Evang. Lib. II, 66: considerandum est, ne repugnare videatur, et intelligendum, brevitatis causa Matthaeum hoc potius dicere voluisse, rogatum esse dominum ut faceret, quoä eum fecisse manifestum est, ut scilicet mortuam suscitaret: adtendit enim non verba patris de filia sua, sed quod est potissimum, voluntatem et talia verba posuit, qualis voluntas erat. Ita enim desperaverat, ut potius eam vellet reviviscere, non credens vivam posse inveniri, quam morientem reliquerat. Then either the two others left the main point out of consideration, or Matthew exaggerated Jairus’s faith disproportionately.

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The newer criticism answers that they have reworked the story, which Matthew reports in its initial simplicity, in such a way that the miracle power of Jesus is “subjectively heightened by contrast and the unexpected.” If Jesus is asked from the outset to awaken a dead person and does so without further ado, then the immense ability to awaken the dead is assumed as something that goes without saying. On the other hand, if the father believes he is only allowed to ask for the healing of a sick person and is warned against any further hope when death occurs, then “the extraordinary nature of that ability is emphasized in a determined way *).” But what, we must ask in response, will be the first thing in the sculpture of religious historical belief? Once the notion has arisen that Jesus has raised the dead, will the historian who shapes this notion for the first time write as if everyone assumed that Jesus could and would raise the dead if asked to do so in faith? Certainly not! Even if he knows that the raising of the dead will happen, and even if he has decidedly designed the entire report around this outcome, he will inevitably allow the immense deed to emerge from Jesus’ free decision, after the request, which had previously focused on a less heroic act of help, was pushed into the background by the intensification of the misfortune, and the hope that help could also be found for the greater misfortune was cut off. Only cautiously could the first historian, whom we are talking about, carry out the development of the collision, which demanded the greatest effort of the miracle power; he had to incorporate this cautiousness into the historical material itself and place the request for help for the sick child before the raising of the dead. Matthew, the later one, was beyond these scruples, since he had not only formed this particular view of miracles but had long been accustomed to the idea that Jesus had raised the dead, and what was a commonplace assumption to him could also be shared without hesitation as the same assumption with the father of the child. The Jewish leader immediately asks at the outset that Jesus may revive his dead child. The miracle has become, so to speak, the ordinary order of things.

*) Strauss, L.J. II. 148.

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For another, very prosaic reason, Matthew had to change the account so that the ruler goes to the Lord from the deathbed of his daughter.

According to Mark’s account, Jesus was awaited by a large crowd on the shore and accompanied by them as he followed Jairus into his house. On the way, the woman with the issue of blood touched his garment and was healed. Jesus immediately noticed that power had gone out from him and, turning in the crowd, he asked who had touched his clothes. The disciples drew his attention to the press of the crowd, which almost crushed him, but he knew that the touch of his garment had been peculiar and looked around for the person who had touched him. Then the woman came, fell at his feet, and told him the whole truth (Mark 5:24-33, essentially the same as Luke 8:42-47). Matthew knows nothing of the crowd, Jesus goes only with the disciples to Jairus’ house, and so everything is missing in the following story of the woman with the issue of blood that presupposes the presence of the crowd. The woman touches Jesus’ garment, he simply turns around, sees her, and says to her, “Be of good cheer, daughter; thy faith hath made thee whole” (Matthew 9:19-22). With the crowd missing, however, the whole action lacks its necessary environment and presupposition, since it is unmistakable that the woman could only do what she did secretly and unnoticed, i.e. in the press of the crowd. The writer who first developed this view could not do without the crowd, while in Matthew’s account the scene is much too bare and the woman, if she follows the Lord alone over the street, is left without support. Matthew is the later writer, he has fundamentally changed the account of Mark.

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And he had to change it, just as he did. If Jairus had come to pick up the Lord from the house of the tax collector, where he was just sitting at the banquet, then of course there was no crowd of people present that could serve to fill the scene. Furthermore, when Jairus receives the Lord at the lake and asks for help for his dying daughter, there was plenty of time and space for the message of his child’s death to arrive along the way; but how could this message be inserted when Jesus was already in Capernaum and only walking from one house to another on the street? It had to be omitted, the crowd had to be missing, and the father of the child had to immediately come with the request that Jesus raise the dead.

The account of Mark is original and, from the point where the crowd awaits the Lord on the shore of the lake, also original compared to that of Luke. We have already noted that Luke separated the departure to the eastern shore from the assumption that Jesus was already in a boat during the parable lecture, even eliminating this assumption at its place – (he wanted to connect the arrival of the mother and brothers of Jesus with the parable lecture and therefore had to move Jesus from the boat to the middle of a crowd of people C. 8, 19.) – yet he follows Mark in writing that on the return from the eastern shore the crowd received the Lord, as they had all been waiting for him – but how could they be waiting for him when they were not present when he departed for the other shore? Only Mark motivated this reception when he suggests that Jesus “had departed in the presence of a gathered multitude or on the day when he was occupied with such a crowd *).”

*) Wilke, p. 603.

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So far – that is correct – the representation of Mark proves to be the original in every respect, which the other two confused in contradiction with their internal presuppositions because they merged the same with new elements, or rather did not merge it, but only externally connected it, partly copied it literally and could not change it completely. But even it is not free from all contradiction. Even if Jesus may have departed in the presence of a gathered multitude, it is not explained that they were expecting him on the next day **) – how could they know or even presume that Jesus would be so unfavourably received over there that he would return so soon? “She ‘had witnessed the danger from the shore to which the boat had been exposed’,” answers Schleiermacher and after him Neander ***), but did she have to assume that the Lord would now come back, did she have to be so sure of herself that she “expected” him? She could not think of such a prompt return, since according to Mark’s own presupposition, Capernaum was only momentarily Jesus’ place of residence and it only happened by chance through the unfriendly reception that Jesus received over there that he immediately returned after barely landing. So even Mark is not without contradictions, but they are only those that have arisen from the original tendency of his pragmatism and must arise if not the pure art view, but the need of prosaic and external interests determines the writer, no matter how free he may be in the development of the individual. Mark needed the crowd for the following representation, Jairus had to emerge from it, it had to surround Jesus on the way to the mourning house and again make the secret touching of Jesus’ clothes possible for the woman with the issue of blood – it had to stand on the shore and wait for Jesus and it appeared at the right time when the writer needed it for his purposes.

**) Mark 5:21: και διαπεράσαντος του Ιησού εν τω πλοίω πάλιν εις το πέραν, συνήχθη όχλος πολύς επ’ αυτόν· και ήν παρά την θάlacoav. Luke has correctly rewritten it in 8:40: &yéveto dè &v tớ únoστρέψαι τον Ιησούν, απεδέξατο αυτόν ο όχλος: ήσαν γάρ πάντες προς-δοκώντες αυτόν.

***) Schleierm, a. a. D, p. 126. Neander, p. 340. 341.

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2023-04-17

§ 33 The Two Demoniacs of Gadara

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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 2

—o0o—

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§ 33

The Two Demoniacs of Gadara.

Matt. 8, 28-34.

According to Matthew, two demoniacs encountered Jesus when he landed on the other side of the sea, but Mark and Luke only mention one; so where did Matthew get the other one from? The way he came to him and how he generally comes to such companions is so strange, so incredibly adventurous that, as far as we know, it has no equal in either profane or sacred historiography.

Augustine insisted that there were two demoniacs who approached the Lord; Mark and Luke only spoke of one because he was more furious than the other, and Calvin agrees with this view of the holy bishop. *) The apologetic reformer must now claim that the reports are not contradictory, but it should be noted immediately that we must rely solely on Matthew’s account if we want to know whether only one of the two caused the Lord especially much trouble due to the violence of his rage. Only Matthew knows about two, so he should tell us that one was not as bad as the other; but he not only says nothing about it but explicitly presents both as equally raging and furious *) and thus spares us the trouble of examining the views of the great African more extensively. It also does Calvin no good to point out to us that Mark and Luke describe in detail the “rage of the devil” that had more control over one than the other – because can the number of words in the holy scripture decide and is it not enough that Matthew says that both were “very angry”?

*) Probabilis est Augustini conjectura, qui duos fuisse sentiens de uno tantum hic verba fieri excusat (!), quod magis famosus esset : atque ita propter mali atrocitatem magis illustre fuerit in eo miraculum. Et certe videmus Lucam et Marcum in saevitia diaboli amplificanda multis verbis insistere. Quod ergo unum insigne exemplum divinae Christi potentiae celebrant, a Matthaei narratione non dissidet, quae alterum hominem hic et minus cognitum adjungit.

*) C. 8, 28: χαλεποι λίαν.

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Since modern criticism has taken the correct path and attempted to get to the bottom of the matter by examining the reports to see if one originated from the other, it was initially believed that the clear signs of its later origin could be found in the report of Mark. While Matthew only notes that the two demoniacs who encountered the Lord upon landing had come from the tombs and were very fierce, so that no one could pass that way, Mark describes in great detail the ferocity of his demoniac. He also says that the demoniac had come from the tombs, but adds a series of remarks, each of which is intended to explain the other: “the possessed man had his dwelling among the tombs and no one could bind him, not even with chains, for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he tore the chains apart and broke the shackles in pieces. And so he was day and night among the tombs and in the mountains, crying out and cutting himself with stones.” Finally (v. 15) when his fellow countrymen, seeing him healed and sane, also see that he is “clothed,” the evangelist implies retrospectively that the unfortunate man did not wear clothes before. Saunier *) says that this “breadth and detail” of the description, this “rhetorical and descriptive” attitude, proves that Mark is only reproducing in “broader expression” the simple account of another – Luke’s. Let us first stop at this more limited investigation (so that we do not yet consider Matthew), then we can still notice that Mark’s account not only is very broad, but also because of its verbosity it unnecessarily slows down the narration: how long do we have to wait before we hear what the possessed man did when he saw Jesus (v. 6)? Isn’t it more appropriate if Luke only briefly says (Luke 8:27) that a man who “had been possessed for a long time” met the Lord upon landing, didn’t wear any clothes, didn’t stay in any house, but stayed among the tombs, if he now immediately reports what he did when he saw Jesus (v. 28), and only then notes how (v. 29) the unfortunate man had been tormented by the unclean spirit? Isn’t it clear that Mark “has compressed and expanded the description given by Luke (v. 27, 29)”? **) Nothing less than that! Mark has only slowed down the narration, while Luke has interrupted it where it simply should not have been interrupted, and brought it into the wildest confusion, for once the whole thing is set in motion so that the possessed man actually calls on Jesus, what Jesus did must immediately follow – as it does with Mark. And as for the suspicious “compression and expansion” of the description, has Luke done nothing to that effect when he immediately notes at the beginning (v. 27) that the possessed man did not tolerate clothes and motivates it beforehand, that those people wondered when they later found the man clothed (v. 35)? Instead of being evidence against the originality of Mark’ account *), it actually supports it that the note about the nudity of the possessed man is not inserted into the description of his condition. Mark could be sure that everyone would have the perception of the previous state of the possessed man when he later describes the amazement of his compatriots – (Luke added this supplement) – but he still felt that he should not extend that description too much, so as not to interrupt the flow of the narrative even more than it already is. The evidence against Luke is finally completed when we read that the possessed man who met Jesus when he landed “came out of the city**),” as if he did not himself say that the unfortunate man lived outside in the tombs!

*) On the sources of the Gospel of Mark, p. 79-80.

**) de Wette, I, 2, 145.

*) As Fritzche also thinks, regarding Mark 5:15: You can understand that Mark has both used and abused the gospel of Luke (!).

**) εκ της πόλεως (23. 27.).

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Now that it is certain that Luke copied the account of Mark and confused it with his attempts to improve it, the question arises as to how the simple account of Matthew compares to the more detailed account given by Mark. Strauss, although sympathetic to Matthew, wants to leave undecided whether Mark’s description is a “willful embellishment” of the “simple” statement of the wildness of the possessed ***). Okay! We don’t want to note yet how probable it is and is often confirmed that simplicity is the later completion, the rhetorical and, with all its breadth, still hard and awkward being the first attempt at historiography. We also don’t want to use the fact that Matthew speaks of two possessed persons, while Mark speaks of only one, to decide which account is original. On the contrary: before that, we want to point out the advantages that distinguish Matthew’s account from the others.

***) L. J. II. 33

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All three accounts have in common that the possessed, as soon as they see Jesus, recognize him as the Son of God and know that he has come to destroy them. Indeed, Mark even says that when the possessed first saw Jesus from afar *), he ran over to him and shouted with a loud voice, “What have I to do with you, Jesus, Son of God Most High?” So Jesus has not yet had time to make his intentions known to the demon. Nevertheless, Mark immediately explains the demon’s address to us quite differently: not because he had recognized Jesus on his own, as is usually the case with his devilish companions, did he have the certainty that the Lord had come to destroy him, but because Jesus had commanded him to come out of the man (Mark 5:8, Luke 8:29). This is not only a contradiction in the account, but also in the matter itself, for now it seems that the Lord’s first command was ineffective, since after a longer negotiation with the demon, a second command had to follow in order to free the possessed from the devilish power. The contradiction arose purely out of thoughtlessness and the abundance of pragmatism. Matthew does not know it, for according to his account, the demons ask Jesus to send them into the herd of swine that was grazing nearby on the hillside by the lake.

*) Mark 5:6: μακροθεν..

Moreover, according to Luke’s account, after the demon recognized Jesus, he even begs him not to torment him *), but what right do the devil’s henchmen have to swear by God and to ask for mercy from the man they know has come to overthrow their rule? When will the devil soften, become sentimental, and even pious, so that he swears by the Son of the Most High before his heavenly Father? Matthew presented the matter quite differently, he does not let the demons beg, speak sentimentally, and swear, but only express the resentment they feel at the sight of their archenemy: “What have we to do with you, Jesus, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the appointed time?” **)

*) Mark 3:7: “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of God Most High? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” So Luke (8:28: “…I beg you, do not torment me…”) has already taken offense at and softened Mark’s account.

**) Luke 8:29: “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the appointed time?”

*) Μarκ 3, 7: τι έμοί και σοι, Ιησού, υιέ του θεού του υψίστου; ορκίζω σε τον θεόν, μή με βασανίσης. Luke (8, 28 : …. δέομαί σου, μη ….) has therefore already taken offense at the presentation of Marcus and mitigated it.

**) Luke 8, 29: τι ημίν και σοι, Ιησού υιέ του θεού; ήλθες ωδε προ καιρού βασανίσαι ημάς ;

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Very well! And yet the account of Matthew is the later one, which, though it improves certain points excellently, must reveal that it did not create the original type, but rather changed it against its true nature at other essential points. The reason for these unfortunate changes lies in the plurality of the possessed. Strauss also does not want to decide here and only presents it as one of the possibilities ***), that “gradually the plural of the demons was replaced with the singular of the possessed.” Therefore, it must have happened, due to the increase of the contrast, that instead of two possessed, only one was assumed – but in the face of the multitude of demonic spirits that must be presupposed here, if a whole herd of swine is to be possessed by them, the difference of whether they previously dwelt in one or two possessed dwindles to almost nothing. The contrast remains equally great in any case.

***) L. J. II, 33. – De Wette states 1, 1, 88. 89. quite plainly that the account of Matthew is the original one, and that of Luke is the later expansion.

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However, two possessed persons cannot come out. Although Matthew has them both express the request that if Jesus were to cast them out, he would send them into the herd of swine; he could not leave out this request if he wanted to motivate the following events, but it is and remains inappropriate, as the evangelist himself testifies when he suppresses the other requests and speeches attributed to the possessed person of Mark and Luke. How is it possible, or could it have been considered possible by the first author of the narrative, that two possessed persons could conceive the same thought in the same moment and speak it as if with one mouth? It is so impossible that even Matthew omits the dialogue between Jesus and the possessed person, the question of Jesus: “What is your name?” the possessed person’s answer: “Legion, for we are many,” and the request that Jesus not send them out of the country (Mark 5:9-10) or (Luke 8:30-31) into the abyss. However, the fact that there were so many of them had to be reported beforehand if the reader was to understand how the demonic spirits could take possession of a herd of swine; that they did not want to be sent out of the country or thrown into the abyss *), had to be mentioned if it was to be understandable how they came up with the idea of asking Jesus to let them enter the herd – so Matthew does not make it understandable how the demons could enter a whole herd of swine, and at least he does not motivate their request clearly enough when he lets them grumble in their first address: “Have you come here to torture us before the appointed time?” Before the time! namely, before we receive the final judgment, which is already predetermined for us by you? Another detail is missing in Matthew’s account. When the herd of swine was seized by the demonic spirits and rushed down the cliff where they were grazing, as if in a storm, and drowned *), the shepherds fled to the city and reported what had happened. The people then came out to Jesus and asked him, after they had convinced themselves of the facts, to leave their region. Jesus did what they wanted, boarded the ship, and at that moment the healed person asked him to take him with him. Jesus did not agree, but rather gave him the task of going home and proclaiming to his own what God had done for him. The man went and proclaimed in the Decapolis (Mark 5:20, according to Luke 8:39, throughout the city) what good deed Jesus had done for him. However, Matthew immediately has Jesus board the ship after the request of those people, and he reports nothing about a request from the two possessed persons, nor does he mention them again after he had once freed them from the evil spirits. Why? Schleiermacher tells us that the account comes from someone “who did not come into the vicinity of Jesus, but was instructed to stay by the ship” *). As if the man, having learned so much about the healing from others, could not have learned the rest as well! As if he did not have to have heard the request of the demoniacs, that Jesus take them with him, very clearly, as it was uttered in the moment when Jesus boarded the ship **)! Matthew omitted the necessary conclusion of the whole story, the conclusion he read in the writings of his predecessors but could not adopt. Not to mention that we must still hear how the demoniac was after the unclean spirits were cast out—(Mark and Luke tell us, by reporting that his countrymen saw him sitting at the feet of the Lord, Luke says)—so for the sake of contrast, the healed man had to appear again, set in motion, and conclude the whole action that we see in the account. His countrymen did not want to tolerate his benefactor in their area, and Jesus was actually expelled—should this dissonance, which deafens us in the whirl of its contradictions and robs us of our senses, now conclude the whole story? The refusal of those people to receive Jesus into their midst was formed only so that we would not know at the end why Jesus immediately returned after landing, and over there in the land where thousands of unclean spirits are to be found, where people dwell who are terrified of the Lord, should no witness of faith be left behind? No! Both aspects belong together and are formed for the sake of each other, each only for the sake of the other. Those people expel Jesus out of horror at the banner of the devil and because they themselves belong to the unclean, so that the healed man, with the confession of his faith, may stand forth more gloriously as a witness of the heavenly world and grace in that dark land. But Matthew could not give this resolution of the dissonance because he allows two demoniacs to be healed and because it was too unlikely that two people should have the same wish at the same time and express it to Jesus.

*) Mark assumed the idea, which is still present in modern belief in ghosts and evil spirits, that beings of this kind are sometimes bound to specific regions as local spirits, while Luke did not immediately share this belief and now thought of hell as the home of evil spirits, and Matthew finally thought of the final judgment which the Messiah will hold over the power of evil.

*) Only Mark (Ch. 5, 13) says that there were about two thousand of them, while the other two are content to write him down before (V. 11.) that the herd was large. Such specialties must be the basis for those who make Mark a compiler in the sense of the Griesbach hypothesis. For example, Fritzsche in the commentary on the Gospel of Mark, prologue, p. XLII Weisse (l, 65) has already responded to this, if Mark knew nothing better and no other “corrections” to add to the writings of his predecessors, he could have spared himself the trouble of researching and writing down, and Wilke has successfully shown that all these magnificent notes concerning the salvation of the world do not even come from Mark, but rather are later interpolations. Wilke has shown of most of them that they are highly suspicious, such as the statement of how many pigs were in the herd. We have often noticed how later historiography, since it has more abstract perspectives, blurs such meaningless details; this could also have happened this time, but it is very unlikely, since in this case – to present the miracle in all its greatness – it must have been of interest to Mark’s followers to indicate the exact number of unclean animals. However, the note also interrupts the context, since it separates too much the information that the herd rushed into the sea and that they drowned, just where the narrative, like its subject, should move quickly, and delays the movement of the whole. In any case, the entire passage is not constant in the manuscripts, and in a very respected one, that note is even missing.

*) a. a. O. p. 130.

**) Mark 5, 18: και εμβαίνοντος αυτού εις το πλοίον, παρεκάλει αυτόν ο δαιμονισθείς, ίνα ή μετ’ αυτού.

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The duality of the possessed is thus a contradiction to the original tendency and structure of the report, and a later, sole addition by Matthew. It is also no longer a secret where the evangelist got it from. Previously, he had read in the Gospel of Mark (Chapter 1, 21-27) that when Jesus first came to Capernaum, he taught in the synagogue and healed a possessed man. However, since he had already used the note on Jesus’ teaching and its powerful impact on the people for the Sermon on the Mount and had to omit the scene that took place in the synagogue, he could not report anything about the possessed man. But he did not want to completely let go of this tidbit. What does he do now? At the first suitable opportunity, he takes it up and – casually, but oddly enough! – makes two possessed out of the one that Jesus heals on the other side, on the opposite shore *). He even has the Gospel of Mark before him at this moment, for he borrows from it the exclamation with which the possessed man in the Capernaum synagogue acknowledges that he knows well that Jesus is the Holy One of God and has come to destroy him and his associates **). This enabled him to so successfully give his possessed man the appropriate snarling address, while Mark did not dare repeat these words and also had already the request of the unclean spirit for relief from its fate in his head, which was the foundation of the whole story, and was woven into the first words of the unclean spirit too early.

*) Weisse, 1, 497 regards this explanation as “more probable” than any other; Wilke (p. 683), based on his insight into the relationship between the synoptic accounts, could describe it as the only correct one.

**) Mark 1:24: τι ημϊν και σοι Ιησού ; ήλθες απολέσαι ημάς οίδα σε τις ει, ο άγιος του θεού.

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We haven’t seen the apologist for a long time; we have indeed seen him, he has also thrown us the crumbs of his wisdom while we were dealing with the possessed, but we have not seen him in his true element, in the holy zeal that suits him so well. But now we only need to say that the conclusion of the account, the request of the healed man and the request of his fellow countrymen, is pure, so is the whole account a work of ideal contemplation, since its individual features cannot deny their literary origin, and since there are no unclean spirits that could intrude alongside or even take the place of human self-consciousness, the apologist stands in full glory. For the scripture indeed says that those unfortunate people were possessed by evil spirits, the companions of Beelzebub, that is, by spirits from the kingdom of Satan, and not only do the sufferers testify to the reason for their sufferings, for it is not they who speak, but their tongues have become the organ of those spirits: Jesus himself also bears witness, since he always addresses the unclean spirits and commands them to depart. And as it is written, the apologist answers, so it is true, so it is correct, and it remains so. For if it were otherwise, that is, if those sick people were not really possessed by devilish spirits, would Jesus, “who saw so far beyond his contemporaries in more delicate and dangerous matters and whose deeper insight into the human soul cannot be denied, have really embraced such a clumsy mistake?” *) Clumsy? How he gets worked up so quickly! Clumsy! But Jesus was not a physiologist and speculative psychologist, and a mistake cannot be called clumsy that was connected with the religious worldview of the people. We will not even call that religious view clumsy, even if the new investigations, for which Strauss has provided the most important contributions, have taught us that the so-called state of being possessed is nothing more than the illness of the self-consciousness that has gone out of itself, which sees its inner differences as external, foreign, and forcibly imposed powers.

*) Hoffmann, L. J. p. 355.

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But, Hoffmann continues, “all these psychologically ill people assure that something foreign seems to have entered their being (!), which they cannot account as part of themselves” *). They are simply sick and have lost the rational contemplation that was not even given to them as scientific insight. “This foreign thing arouses ideas in the sufferer, therefore it must be a spirit.” As if the sick person were not a spirit and their suffering, if it consists in the delirium of self-consciousness, must manifest itself in the form of representation. “This foreign thing acts irresistibly.” Because the sick person has lost their freedom. “It disturbs the sick person when they want to think and pray religiously.” If this disturbance actually occurs, it is because the pathological condition consists in the liberation and external celebration of the internal contradictions of the spirit and the general power that holds together and dissolves these contradictions in a healthy and rational state has been taken away from the mentally suffering individual.

Finally, the apologist becomes mystical – no, not really! He flees to mystical phrases **): “why should it not be possible for the human soul to temporarily sink into the dark, elementary ground of its existence?” But is the realm of Satan and his companions the foundation of the soul? Of course, the apologist means it differently; he wants to leave it undecided whether this foundation is already “personified” or whether it only takes on a specific form in the sick individual. But it is certain that in the sick person, this foundation becomes “a conscious person”, namely a person different from the sick person – even a legion of people? – and only then can one leave undecided whether it is still a person afterwards, abandoned by human individuality.” But this brew of fear – the religious explanation of possession must be maintained – of unbelief – which does not allow that according to scripture, the unclean spirits are companions of the devil – of natural philosophical clichés – and the “dark ground of existence” is not even a philosophical category, but a mythological image – this brew of the most intolerable ingredients is supposed to stupefy our concept and make the credibility of a report that can no longer be maintained plausible to us?

*) Ibid. p. 556.

**) Ibid. p. 358.

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The report can no longer be considered credible in the theological sense. The point that forms its center, namely that the demons caused their own downfall by asking the Lord to let them enter the swine so that they could at least stay in the local area, will only be considered historical as long as the belief in possession really sees the suppression of self-consciousness by demonic spirits. However, once the true nature of that illness is recognized, it becomes impossible to regard even an atom of this report as historical. Yet, Weisse considers it possible that even for the more recent scientific consciousness, that point of the report could still be saved, since those who know about the powers and states of animal magnetism have considered the possibility of a transition of demonic states “from others and even onto animals.” However, Strauss has rightly noted that “the participation of horses and other (we can even say: more removed from bestiality) animals in the so-called second sight of the Scottish and Danish island inhabitants is the only thing securely attested *) to as the communication of organic-psychic states to animals.” The pig, however, is still much too much of a beast and closed to participating in human states, which horses and dogs, for example, are capable of, so it cannot be open to the communication of organic-psychic states.

*) L. J. II. 4l.

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The point that the demons seek and do not find a new home in the pigs also agrees with the modern view that the devil, if he wants to be clever and make a pact in his favor, is foolish and harms himself. “But,” asks Weisse **), “how can one explain the fact that the inhabitants of the region where the miracle was performed, instead of admiring and praising Jesus for it, were rather seized with terror and fear, and wanted to send him away as soon as possible (according to Tert: immediately), especially if one thinks that the story was invented to glorify Jesus?” Nothing could be easier if one does not expect, as earlier criticism did, that the glorification should emerge abstractly: does not the sublime also glorify itself in the horror that it inspires in the lowly, in the horror and in the agitation that its revelation evokes in the dull and closed minds? “Also, the admonition with which Jesus rejects the healed man who wants to follow him is anything but in the tone in which one could recognize a type for such incidents.” But if a type is to be understood as the inner necessity that forms the features of a particular view and holds them together through the tension it creates, then that admonition is also necessarily included in the internal purpose of this report: in the land of the dull and closed, Jesus must leave a witness of his power.

**) I, 198

It was only a contrast – and a very comprehensive and far-reaching one at that – that created the view that unclean spirits in the possessed recognized Jesus from the beginning as the Son of God and called upon Him as such. When Jesus appeared for the first time in the synagogue in Capernaum, the demonic who was present there or rather the demon in the unfortunate person called out to Him: “I know who you are, the Holy One of God” (Mark 1:24). This was generally the case: the devilish spirits knew Him (1:34) and cried out when they saw Him: “You are the Son of God!” But He threatened them not to reveal Him (3:11-12). However, how could it be possible that the insane were betrayed the secret from the very first moment, which would only be revealed and explained to the disciples and the community through a long history, through a series of difficult mediations and in faith in the risen one? Yes, if it was really the spirits of hell, the servants of Satan, who possessed the people at that time, then it was indeed natural that they recognized the Son of God, who had come to destroy their power; they had to know their archenemy, because Satan knew Him, and his companions had to know Him as well, as they belong to a spirit world which is not bound to finite mediations of experience. But since the demonic are nothing but mentally ill, they lose their omniscience, which was in fact only a gift of the ideal view of the later community, and it would not even help their lost cause if one were to rely on the premonition ability of somnambulists. Because it never aims at the generality and the innermost of the self-awareness of another person, let alone a person with whom the somnambulist had so far had no relation, but only worthless particularities and mental determinations that are connected with the physical organism – determinations that have nothing to do with the self-awareness of the Redeemer and God-man – are accessible to it.

76

So the question is no longer how the demonic beings could recognize Jesus as the Son of God – because that was impossible – but why it had to be so and why the evangelical perspective demanded the impossible from them. The Gospel of Mark gives us the answer. Only once does Luke follow his predecessor’s remark that the demons called Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God (Luke 4:41), namely in the context where Jesus heals the sick in front of Peter’s house, and where this note could not be missing if the report was not to be too sparse and the author had nothing else to put in its place. Afterwards, when Luke comes to the second place where Mark gives that note (Luke 6:17–19), he leaves it out completely, believing he has given enough material already, besides presenting more extensively than Mark that everyone sought to touch Jesus, “because power was coming from him and healing them all,” and finally because he hastens to the Sermon on the Mount. Luke no longer recognizes the value of that note. Matthew, however, no longer needs it at all; he even leaves it out in the first place where Jesus drives out the demons in front of Peter’s house and instead puts in its place (Matt. 8:17) the remark that Jesus healed so that the prophecy of Isaiah, “He took our infirmities,” would be fulfilled. What Luke left out once unintentionally and because he no longer knew the original purpose, Matthew deliberately eradicated twice, if he was at all aware of his own distinctive pragmatism. According to his account, Jesus proclaims himself from the beginning as the judge of the world and the Messiah – so why should he command the demons to be silent when they call him the Son of God? According to his scripture, Jesus was recognized from the beginning (chap. 8, 6) as the miracle-working Messiah – so how could it still seem remarkable and significant that even the demons recognize him as the Holy One of God? The note of the sharp-sightedness of the hellish spirits had thus become not only worthless and superfluous but also disturbing, and it had to be eliminated. Mark, on the other hand, had constructed his presentation on the fact that Jesus was recognized as the Messiah by the disciples and the people only at the end of his work. But it was impossible for a Gospel writer, especially the one who wrote first and built the structure of his writing freely, to bear that no one really recognized the Lord as the Messiah and confessed him as such. He had to even establish confessors at the very moment when Jesus appeared, who would testify how powerful and compelling the impression of the Lord’s personality was, and since people could not understand this impression immediately, spirits had to explain it, who by their nature possess a sharper vision.

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Therefore, only as a testimony that he had come to destroy the kingdom of darkness and as proof of the power that he still gives to his followers in their struggle with Satan, must Jesus fight with the demons.

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§ 32. The calming of the storm

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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 2

—o0o—

52

§ 32.

The calming of the storm.

Matth. 8, 23 — 27.

After Jesus had given his answer to the requests of those two, he now boards the ship with “his disciples”. He falls asleep and meanwhile a storm arises that threatens the ship. The disciples wake him up, ask him for help, but he rebukes their unbelief, threatens the wind and the sea, and it became completely calm. Then the people were amazed and said: “What kind of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?”

53

That Mark reports (C. 4, 38) that Jesus slept on a cushion in the stern of the ship during the storm would hardly be worth mentioning if one had not drawn from this detail the conclusion of the later age of his writing, since such descriptive details are considered the idle addition of a later reviser. Occasionally, however, the reviser adds descriptive details to the account he uses and copies in order to contribute something of his own, but it is not necessary; it happens rarely and, at least possibly, only rarely can it occur – Luke and Matthew, for example, are very sparing in this regard – and such details usually betray themselves as later additions by disrupting the context. However, the usual course of historiography and the fate that the original manuscript experiences at the hands of later pragmatists is more likely to be such that the picturesque features of the original presentation are omitted by subsequent revisers or condensed with more or less success into simple formulas. In place of living vividness, general formulas take its place, which then usually become fixed – just think of the fixed, uniform transitions that Luke and Matthew have put in place of the specific motives that Mark gives. But the evangelical historiography had to lean more and more towards this abstract attitude. The man who first tried to present the life of the Savior in context could not do otherwise; he had to try to satisfy the demand of form as much as possible, i.e., to form specific, motivated transitions and to bring situations, contrasts, and motives of the appearance to life even in the small details within individual narratives – Mark did it. But once it had happened and the story had been introduced to the particular detail of the external appearance, it led to the material interest of the religious consciousness, which turned primarily to the content, so that such descriptive details lost their significance, the importance of form, which the first reviser alone must have felt so vividly, ceased, and only the simple framework of the narrative was retained by later revisers – sometimes (as in the present case) without harm to the context, sometimes, however, to the great detriment of the composition.

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The following difference in the portrayal of the three evangelists is important. According to Matthew’s account, it is the people in the boat (οι ανθρωποι) who marvel and exclaim: “What kind of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him!” But where do these people suddenly come from? Schleiermacher tells us *): “We already have strangers on the boat, if we believe that it went out for fishing.” It seems that Schleiermacher wants to compel us to complete our above remark about the progress of evangelical historiography: we obey. The later religious interest not only simplifies the representation and blurs out descriptive details, but in the case where the earlier representation contradicts its later assumptions, it is inventive in strained interpretations that alter, twist and eventually distort the original material to such an extent that unbiased and pure truth must intervene and free itself as well as the matter from these ghosts. Schleiermacher thinks that the disciples could not have asked, in any case, “What kind of man is this?” Well, is it purely impossible—since they already know what kind of man they are dealing with, if they wake Jesus up in the highest danger and cry out to him, “Lord, save us, we are perishing?” Do they not already know that he can command the storm and the sea when they beseech him for help? Of course! So they cannot marvel afterwards, when the Lord grants their request, in such a way as if they had not even suspected that this man possessed such great power. The contradiction remains and that fishing expedition sails off into the blue. The contradiction remains, initially in a different form, in Matthew’s account. When he says that Jesus got into the boat, he not only knows nothing about an intended fishing trip, but he also knows and says nothing about the interesting circumstance that besides the disciples, “strangers” also followed the Lord into the boat.

*) loc. cit. p. 127.

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Only the disciples follow (v. 23), they are the ones who fear when the storm threatens, and they are the ones whom the Lord rebukes for being fearful and of little faith. So where do these strangers come from? Just as Schleiermacher, also in the apologetic interest, took offense at the disciples speaking of the Lord as if he were an unknown person or a stranger, with the words “What sort of man is this *)?”, from whom they did not expect such an exercise of power, and to remove this offense, Matthew has created those people at once, those people whom he strictly wants to distinguish from the disciples. According to Matthew’s later view, it stands that the Lord testified and proclaimed himself as the Messiah from the very beginning and that the disciples knew him as such from the beginning—so how could they speak of their master with this unfamiliarity: what kind of man is this?

*) V. 27: ποταπός εστιν ούτος, ότι. Mark 4, 41: τίς άρα ούτός έστιν, ότι, likewise Luke 8, 25.

Matthew, however, has, if we consider the original structure of the story, forcibly inserted those strangers, and Schleiermacher has been very cruel to his protégé this time, when he sacrificed him to the first Synoptist. According to both Luke and Mark, it is the disciples who become afraid and cry out in amazement, “What kind of man is this?” or rather, “Who is this?” According to their account, Jesus first calms the storm and then scolds the disciples, saying, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” *) And if it immediately says after this, “And they were very afraid,” Luke adds (which Matthew, in turn, has kept alone because he inserted the strangers): “And they were amazed” and said to each other, “Who is this?” If the connection is so tight, are these strangers supposed to suddenly appear and say these words? Matthew, of course, has partly recognized the danger that his assumption poses in this context and has placed the accusation of lack of faith **) after the disciples’ request and only then, after reporting the calming of the storm, followed by the amazement of the people. But it does not help, since he has left the original account so unscathed that the strangers cannot find a place on the boat.

*) So according to Mark 4:40. According to Luke, who forms the middle ground here, namely the transition to Matthew’s view and assumes that the disciples had long since recognized Jesus as the Messiah (Chapter 8, verses): “Where is your faith?”

**) Τί δειλοί ἐστε, ὀλιγόπιστοι; He had to change and soften the accusation here: “Do you still have no faith?”

56

Now the contradiction that runs through the original account and resolves it as it formed! “Who is this?” the disciples say to each other, that even the winds and the sea obey him! So they still do not know Jesus as the Messiah, the miracle is unexpected to them, and they don’t know how to react in their surprise. Rightly so! If Jesus had not directly announced himself as the Messiah and was only recognized as such by the disciples later, then performing a miracle that would prove that the laws of the universe shrink and submit to his command would have made the disciples tremendously scared and ask “who is this?” This is in order, and even Mark has not been able to hide it in his fundamental view. But it seems as if the disciples already knew their master as the Messiah and as the almighty lord of the universe when they woke him up in danger and sought help from him. Although Mark did not shape their request as precisely as Matthew, who lets them explicitly plead for salvation from the danger – “Lord, save us, we are perishing!” – according to his account, they only draw their master’s attention to the danger they are in – “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” – this is also very beautiful and suitable for the assumption that they did not know Jesus as the Messiah yet. But when the Lord rebukes them for being fearful and having no faith after the stilling of the storm, the other assumption is expressed: he has already proven and announced himself as the Messiah so often and so clearly that they should have trusted him without fear, believing that he would grant them the necessary help at the right time. It would be going too far to say that one of the assumptions cancels out the other, and both must destroy each other mutually; rather, the one that agrees with the history, the assumption that the disciples did not immediately know their master as the Messiah, remains valid, and the other, according to which Jesus had clearly revealed himself as the Messiah, that they should have expected the greatest miracles from him, falls before it. With it falls the miracle that would have only existed in its place if the Lord had wanted to awaken a faith that was denied and rejected by his other assurances or the spiritual power of his personality through external force.

57

And if all the power of heaven and earth were united in one person and could overthrow all laws, they still could not do so if it were demanded of them, unless they wanted to justify an immoral relationship with nature and create the small-minded or rather unbelieving who dare to create a deadly collision with the law and reason of the universe from every individual natural event.

58

Let us not misunderstand! When we call the desire for an immediate suspension of the laws of nature immoral and unworthy, the evangelical view as such is not accused — but the charge of blasphemy against reason then hits the apologist all the more surely and dangerously. He is only concerned with the curious fact that the Lord commanded calm to the storm and sea among other things, while the evangelical view sees in the miracle the symbol and pledge of the helpful power with which the Lord protects his own in the storms of this world and, if destruction already seems inevitable, rescues them.

This is not the place to elaborate more extensively on the manifold forms in which the view of nature is intertwined with religious consciousness and how this interweaving changes from the lowest stage – from natural religion – up to the Christian religion, but in the change it essentially retains itself. Enough, religious consciousness must hold on to nature – the immediate existence of the spirit – at every stage because the dialectic of its spiritual determinations cannot be mediated through as purely spiritual, and therefore cannot be carried out as mediated recognition and overcoming of nature, but rather, since it should be viewed as finished here, in this massive immediacy, the calm expression of the spiritual is most clearly viewed or the superiority of the Absolute can be most clearly demonstrated. In the Christian community, religious consciousness has come the farthest in developing its content in a rational, i.e., in a general form, but it has not yet come so far that it could completely dispense with that immediate view of its principle in nature. It has not yet developed its content in true spiritual universality, and if it wants to assure itself of its principle in full vitality — to consider only the focal point — it must either view nature as its image and emblem — (I am the bread of life, etc.) — or finally go so far as to take nature as the symbol of its presence in itself for enjoyment, as in the sacrament. Moreover, it is absolutely essential to consider nature when the Christian wants to see in the life of his Lord the image and pledge for the victories that he should gain in the struggles of this world against the resistance of evil. Within the limits of his historical life, Jesus could not have fought all the hostile powers that threaten the believer; as the absolutely and abstractly “sinless” Savior, he certainly did not experience all the inner struggles that the believer has to face. Even when he really enters into conflict with the parties of his time, this seems to be the least satisfying, since this kind of proof is precisely the most personal, incidental affair of Jesus and seems to be accomplished if the scribes and Pharisees are “shut up” and the “woe” is called upon them. Finally, isn’t it always a contradiction to see the settlement of all, even the most general spiritual struggles, unrest and rifts in the historical experiences of a particular personality? In order to fill all these deficiencies and to eliminate these contradictions, the religious consciousness creates the world of miracles – a world in which the eternally identical, universally known and present nature is tamed and restrained, the same nature from which the religious spirit can most easily and understandably form its conflicts and take the symbols of its spiritual deficiencies and struggles. This world of miracles is immediately close to the religious spirit, for it is precisely against the natural barriers and sufferings that he is most sensitive. At the same time, it is distant from him as the world of the Absolute and is considered by him as the divine history, because the universality of the spirit appears in it immediately and proves itself as the unlimited power of the universe. Only here does faith believe to see the Lord in personal tension with evil when he fights death, disease, and the storms of nature with a single word. And only in these struggles does he see the pledge for the world-historical victories of the community, for the Lord who remains calm and unshaken in all these struggles, who sleeps during the storm and walks away from the battlefield without looking back or making a fuss about his actions, is the absolute Lord who stands by his own until the end of world history, until the creation of a new nature.

60

After all this, it will be understandable to everyone that we do not engage in the paltry question of whether the present account has any historical basis and whether Jesus perhaps once reproached the disciples for their cowardice during a storm. The whole, as it stands, is purely and solely a product of the ideal world of the religious consciousness, “a child of faith.” The idea is Christian—the material, in part, Old Testament. Jehovah also commanded the sea *), Moses did it at God’s command: the Messiah does it in his own divine power. But the idea remains Christian—for Jewish consciousness, the struggle with nature as such has exclusive interest, it is a historical, once and for all settled struggle, which is preserved as a purely past event in memory, while for Christian consciousness it is the symbol for the world-historical struggles of the community and for the victories of their Lord.

*) Psalm 106:9: “He rebuked the Red Sea, and it became dry; he led them through the depths as through a desert.”

Now the contradictions of the original report become clear. Jesus reproaches the disciples for not having firmly trusted that in his community the waves would not come crashing down on their heads: that was said for the believers who are seized by the storms of the world. To the disciples’ words “Do you not care that we are perishing?” is the faithful expectation of help according to Mark’s account, but it had to pass because the believers had to be taught where to seek help. Finally, at the end, the disciples had to speak as if Jesus, as this miracle worker, had been unknown to them until then, since Mark could not completely suppress and conceal the historical circumstance that the disciples had not recognized the Lord as the Messiah so soon. Matthew, on the other hand, only knows the ideal world, so the conclusion in his predecessor’s account must have been disturbing and annoying to him, and since he could not suppress it as the conclusion—the impression of the miracle on the surroundings is reported, after all—he suddenly brings strangers onto the ship so that in their mouths that amazed exclamation would be less objectionable.

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§ 31. The Request of Two Disciples

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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 2

—o0o—

40

§ 31.

The Request of Two Disciples.

Matth. 8, 19-22.

 

As Jesus is on the way to the ship or perhaps already in the act of boarding it – for at the end of this shorter section it says: “and when he had entered into a ship, his disciples followed him” – at that moment a scribe comes to him with the request to follow him everywhere. Jesus answers him: The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head.

But another of his disciples *) said to him, “Lord, allow me first to go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.”

*) V. 21: έτερος των μαθητών αυτού.

But how? Another of his disciples? “Another”: this can only be explained in connection with the previous passage. But was the scribe who made the first request a disciple of Jesus? Far from it! At first glance, and even after letting this story affect one a thousand times: one will always have the feeling that those who were to depart here were not yet followers of the Lord and did not stand so close to him that they could be called his disciples. The excuse that the success has been anticipated here and that those two had joined the disciples who are mentioned later (v. 23) as the Lord’s constant followers, is inadmissible here; if it should be more than just an excuse, if it should be justified, then not only should it be said of the second person that he had joined the Lord, but above all of the first person. Because only if the second person, like the first, the scribe, understood himself to be a follower, could he be called “another of his disciples”. Now, however, the sayings that both must hear are of such a nature that they contain a conflict that has a position and opinion of its own, which stands out for itself, that both have stepped back from it. The position is at least calculated to have the sayings always close the narrative, thus standing out in their high and sublime position, the dissonance between the demand for absolute renunciation and limited finitude for itself, and the dissonance is not resolved by the news that the two really understood this demand. Or even if we can concede to the second story that it has a milder ending and that the man’s inclination is already more decisive – let me bury my father “first” – although it is admittedly not said that he really had the courage to leave the realm of the dead, the dissonance towards which the first story is designed is unmistakable.

41

Since he has misunderstood Matthew, it is clear that he is not the original narrator. He is also not the authentic and original informant for the second story. “The other of the disciples” comes with a proposal and suggestion that could not have come out of thin air, but rather is linked to something that came before. When he says, “let me first (προτων) bury my father,” he must already have been called to follow Jesus, and this call must have just been made to him – but Matthew forgot to mention this assumption, which he did not exclude from Luke – whom he quotes here – because he was only interested in the punchline and could not get to it quickly enough.

Luke also closely connected both stories, but he avoided the inconveniences that Matthew brought about with his later pragmatism. The scribe of Matthew is just someone in Luke (9:57), and the other disciple that Matthew speaks of is just another, namely another in relation to that first someone ( ετερος v. 59), and it is finally understandable that the second asks to be allowed to “first” bury his father, because Jesus had already called him to follow *). However, Matthew changed one thing excellently. According to Luke’s account, Jesus says to the second one, “let the dead bury their dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” But that is too specific, too special for the first moment when Jesus first calls a man to follow him, and is only due to the pragmatism of Luke, who immediately reports on the sending of the seventy and, like them, wants to make the proclamation of the kingdom of God (Luke 10:1, 9) the task of this just recently recruited disciple. Matthew has Jesus answer simply: “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.”

*) v. 59: είπε δε προς έτερον, ‘Ακολούθει μοι.

42

That Matthew has placed the request of the two men in the wrong place, when he lets it happen on the way from Capernaum to the sea, we do not need to mention, since it has already been shown how this departure from Peter’s house is. Therefore, it is also unnecessary to note here that at the moment when Jesus is about to board the ship, the time is too limited for those requests. “Fortunately,” therefore, Gfrörer says *), “Luke has included the incident.” Why? Schneckenburger seeks to justify this even more specifically by saying **): “The preaching of the kingdom of God (Luke 9:60) was a task that the Lord gave to his twelve only after a longer period of instruction, and then again later, precisely during the last journey, to his seventy. At an earlier time, the severity that would not allow for a small delay requested by the piety of the disciple would not have been compatible with Jesus’ mercy.” But why should the Lord have only demanded the hardest renunciation later from his own? He demanded from those two pairs of brothers at the very first moment of his appearance that they should unconditionally and ruthlessly join him, and they understood the request so precisely and followed it so punctually that they “immediately” left their business and their “father”! Certainly, when Luke makes the proclamation of the kingdom of God the sole task of the man who wanted to bury his father, he has in mind the appointment and sending of the seventy to preach the gospel, and he narrates the calling of some men precisely to make it somewhat understandable to the reader where suddenly seventy disciples come from, but for us, this makes it certain that he has formed the historical context a priori, since those seventy belong to a world that owes its origin to his apriori inferences and tendencies.

**) Heil. Sage II, 19.

***) On the Origin of the First Three Gospels, p. 24-25.

43

Luke has also closely linked his account with the preceding events. Those men come into contact with the Lord as he has begun the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, already in Samaria and here he was rejected by the inhabitants of a village where he sought lodging. The first man’s proposal, “I will follow you, Lord, wherever you go,” is supposed to be connected on the one hand with the circumstance that the villagers did not receive Jesus, and on the other hand with the fact that the Lord was on a journey – but this connection doesn’t help us at all, and in general, it’s not worth more than that of Matthew, who also places the event during a travel opportunity, since this journey to Jerusalem, which Luke reports, is of a nature that can never be characteristic of an actual journey.

In short, only in Luke’s account does the event have a real connection, but not the true, not the living connection, but only the writerly connection, which is inherently considered to be very unfortunate and deficient, but even in this imperfect form of presentation, it is not missing in Matthew.

44

The apologist, when making the best of a bad job and accepting criticism at least as far as it serves their interests, and the critic, when still entangled in apologetic interests, both could now eagerly grab and triumphantly exclaim: “So Luke did not create these sayings, since they did not emerge fresh from the current context – therefore, these are sayings of Jesus that have come to him through tradition, who knows by what means.” One sees that the proverb “haste makes waste” is unknown to the apologist. If Luke did not create these punchlines, could not someone else have created them before him? Could they not have come to the third evangelist from the element in which such punchlines live, from tradition, and from the conversation of the community? But even this assumption raises a difficulty. In specific circles, for example, of a society, a city, a state, or even a continent, punchlines arise and spread with extraordinary rapidity, which give a new perspective to some aspect of general conditions, and due to their novelty and striking character, they find general approval. However, as quickly as they spread over the circle to which they belong, they disappear just as quickly. They never live long in tradition. Only if they are written down immediately upon their first emergence or shortly thereafter, do they survive until later, included in the context of a larger historical work, and gain eternity, if they strikingly characterize a historical standpoint.

If this statement is based on the nature of history and historiography and is confirmed by a thousand years of experience, we must therefore once again declare ourselves against the tradition hypothesis here. It follows necessarily that we do not hear in these sayings the literal expressions of Jesus that have been preserved in the tradition of the community for many, many years. Consider how quickly the community spread over the earth from morning to evening, how it grew incrementally by attracting individual masses. Should the scattered adherents in cities and provinces have all heard the same anecdotes so that they would know to whom they were serving as a new Lord, and so that the tradition could arise to which we finally owe the preservation of those anecdotes? How could the community that would overcome the world ever arise from such anecdotal peddling? Not only the Pauline, but all the letters of the New Testament prove instead that the community arose entirely differently, that the members who were won had heard entirely different things, and that the interests of the community in the first century AD, which gave it its origin, were fundamentally different. The essence, the principle of the kingdom of heaven in its pure simplicity, in the definiteness that its contrast to the law and its historical revelation in the suffering and resurrection of the Savior gave it, that and only that was proclaimed to the old world, to which the believers held fast and believed it to be enough as such because it was infinitely much, and the internal dialectic of this principle formed the only and exclusive interest that occupied, united, and even through the divisions and questions that it raised in individual communities, united the entire community.

45

At that time, only when the community had secured its general principle in dialectic with the law and the view of the suffering, resurrection, and glorification of its Savior was established, the need arose to hear more about the historical empirical circumstances, entanglements, and events of Jesus’ life; but when it arose, the possibility of satisfying it was no longer available. What could Jesus have experienced in his life and during his struggle with the Jewish world? What else but the experiences of the community? What could he speak and present? What else but the self-consciousness of the community? Even if we disregard that the memory of the individual events of Jesus’ life had disappeared, and that the Christian principle, as purely positive, could not grasp the true form of historiography, for the individual could not gain its pure and appropriate representation and mutual interconnection if it was considered as such and in every respect as an appearance of the general, thus exposed to the danger of being excessively expanded, so the general was not recognized in the inner movement of individual events and relationships, but should be viewed immediately at every moment in every detail. Even if we ignore all of this, at that time, when the Gospels were to be written, the true form of historiography had been lost through a series of important revolutions. History had become a collection of anecdotes. In the Roman world, the modern principle of individuality and personality had already been announced and established in the way that was possible then, i.e., in the way of immediacy. The Lord of the world had ascended to the throne in Rome to concentrate and represent all interests, all rights, and the measure of everything in his person. And now that morality and the substantial bond that otherwise made individuals a whole had disappeared, and the power of one person had replaced the moral unity, which should apply to all and instead of all, the atomistic points of others reacted and were forced to regain stability and solidity in their personality, if they did not want to perish completely. The principle of personality had emerged, and history became a biography, and world history became a collection of anecdotes. Suetonius had successors who were worthy of him.

46

While in Rome, the personality which encompassed the power of the world ascended the throne, the Christian community arose through the tremendous miracle that a person appeared who had drawn the power of heaven into his inner being and had risen in faith as the Promised One, as the Eternal and the One. As the Eternal and Promised One from the beginning, he founded the community, and when his church was founded and later reflection wanted to find out how this work had formed historically and prevailed in the struggle with the world, there was no other history than the history of this One Person who remained the One as he had worked here on earth and continued to work in his servants from the seat of his heavenly glory. The form of the Gospels was thereby unchangeably determined – the main thing was and remained that individual and always individual things were reported if it was only a single aspect of the life of this One in which his heavenly infinity appeared immediately. Apart from the suffering, death, and resurrection, one knew nothing when one wanted to know individual things – and yet one knew enough: the fortunate one who was called to find it found it in the perception, interests, and struggles of the community, for what the community was, experienced, and possessed in its inner being was and had only been through the One, or rather, that was the One.

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One may say, whatever we write here is aprioric work, but it will not harm us. We have written it here because previous criticism has given us the right to do so, and the following remarks will prove it.

To the point! “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests,” Jesus said, “but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Weisse rightly observed *) that Jesus “would hardly have used such a striking image to express the simple observation that he did not want to be physically bound to a fixed home,” or that he did not have a fixed home. Weisse also reminds us of the sense in which we use the expression “four pegs,” and now leads us to the following explanation. Every person has their four pegs, that is, despite all mobility and freedom from external statutes, a resting place, a certain formula that is supposed to apply to everything again, that should give the final satisfaction and with which one can be comfortable. The letter, i.e. every “fixed form that in any way counts as a letter in life or history,” not just the written letter, is once again solidified by people, even by the freest, until it has become a rigid absolute. Jesus wants to deny that the divine spirit that dwells within him can sink to this bondage, and he denies it precisely before a scribe – Matthew, who created him, was guided by a splendid instinct – because it is the scribe’s characteristic that he does not have the courage to free himself from the misunderstood formulaic system, to throw off the baggage of finiteness and to ruthlessly surrender to the infinity of the idea.

*) II, 57

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Now then, if this explanation is correct — and it is — and it finally comes down to the serious question of from which standpoint the saying originated, the answer cannot be doubtful for a moment. Weisse still thinks innocently that the words were spoken by Jesus to a scribe — whom Matthew had just introduced — but he was still innocent and the matter had not yet become so serious that this question could no longer be avoided. If the words had been spoken by Jesus, they would have had the extremely meager meaning that he had no fixed dwelling place and that his followers likewise had to forgo such comforts, and this meaning would also be the only one that it would have to make sense, because the consideration of the empirical person of Jesus, who speaks there, travels around the country and points the man who wants to follow him to his situation, would not only have hindered, thwarted, but also simply made impossible the elevation to a higher sense. But in the community, the saying arose and developed from the self-consciousness of its infinity, without hindrance, the dialectical and revolutionary power of its content, since the personality of Jesus, whose historical situation gave the epigrammatic basis for the actual point, no longer hindered the development of the thought from this standpoint. It is hardly necessary to note that the standpoint which produced the saying did not have the thought in its purity in its consciousness, but only became aware of it from the situation of the person Jesus and as a reflection on it — in a situation that we call the prototype of the idea only according to our understanding.

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Also, the second saying: “let the dead bury their own dead” is also correctly explained by Weisse, when he notes that the word “dead” should be understood figuratively not only the first time, but both times *). “What Jesus meant with this saying is nothing else than the spiritually deadening occupation with the dead and decaying **), where there is something alive that demands our sense and our power.” Correct! The sphere which the follower of Jesus should leave is altogether a realm of the dead, where spiritually dead things float back and forth.

*) II, 58.

**) A fortunate world, where the struggle with the newer dead, the apologetics, a struggle that in our time is only possible through dialectical engagement, no longer needs to be fought! But we are now so unlucky and lucky that we can only help the spirit to victory by overcoming the material. But in essence, it has always been so.

But if Weisse still assumes that the saying belongs to the Lord, he must certainly find it “more than doubtful” whether the exalted Master really intended to dissuade the disciple from fulfilling his pious duty with this call. And yet nothing could be less doubtful than that even a momentary return to the dead in an absolute sense should be forbidden – the point of the whole would at least be irretrievably lost if the commission were not an absolute one, and the disciple, instead of Jesus, should unconditionally succumb, should so comfortably settle with both colliding powers. The collision must therefore be preserved in its purity, i.e., Jesus did not speak these words. Firstly, the elevation of the saying into the spiritual realm would have been impossible again if the man to whom it was addressed really had just buried his father. Secondly, Jesus would never have dared, and if he was a true human being, he would never have dared to form a collision of such abstract cruelty that all divine and human commandments would not have been sufficient to persuade a person to violate the family ethic. Even if all the powers in heaven and on earth were to conspire against the power of the family, their alliance would be powerless.

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So it comes down again to the fact that the saying was formed in the community and should express, command and illustrate the revolutionary renunciation of a world that appeared as a realm of the dead.

If we were not already elevated by both sayings into a world that is just as different from the real world as it is from the real history of Jesus, we would certainly be alienated from our world, to which the story belongs, if we notice that Luke allows a third person to approach Jesus who is also willing to follow him, but who also has to hear that the kingdom of heaven demands the sacrifice of all other considerations, as he asked the Lord for permission to say goodbye to his family first. “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:61-62).

It is no longer a question, as it has sometimes been discussed before, whether the Lord had the opportunity to express the same thought three times in a row, but now the question is whether he ever expressed this thought three times in his life, and whether the punch line of his sayings has been preserved in tradition for many, many years – a question that is already answered if we are shown that the first two sayings do not belong to him. We must not even speak as if the tradition of the community were the artist who develops the punch lines that serve the expression of the same thought, since we can no longer entertain the unclear idea that tradition in its substance could produce certain works. It is rather the writer who tries his skills at tasks of this kind and loves to work out general ideas that have indeed flowed into his life circle in several forms. So these three punch lines are a product of the writer and, in this accumulation, actually a disturbing and distracting surplus, which even Matthew took offense at. Matthew rightly leaves out the third punch line.

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Thus, the only remaining question is whether Luke himself created these sayings, or whether he found them at least partially in a written source that he used. Of course, we cannot obtain absolute certainty about this, but it also doesn’t hurt to consider it. It is possible that he received the impetus that led to the elaboration of these points from an earlier written source, or it is possible that his predecessor had already passed on the matter to him in a more specific form, but no one can provide anything substantial against the assertion that Luke created the whole thing. On the contrary, it can even be shown how he arrived at all three points. In the Gospel of Mark, he reads how the first disciples, when they were called by the Lord, left everything behind, and even the sons of Zebedee left their father without further ado and followed the Lord. The courage of recklessness that lies in this decision of the disciples, Luke did not bring to the fore in his presentation at the right place, and where he speaks of the calling of the disciples, he does it confusedly (Lk 5:10-11). He blunts the point that is intended in Mark’s presentation and does not even mention that the followers of Jesus broke away from their families. But what he has neglected here, he has not completely forgotten, rather he carried it around in his head for a long time, turned it over and over, transformed it into general principles, such as the principle that the followers of Jesus must renounce their four stakes, and finally developed these principles into sayings that the Lord directed to men who gave him occasion to do so by putting their limited circumstances – even circumstances that belong to morality – in conflict with the duties of a disciple of Jesus. To further develop the occasion, especially the third (Lk 9:61), the evangelist was brought to reflect on the story of the calling of Elisha *), whose request to bid farewell to his father beforehand could naturally not be granted according to the structure of the evangelical type, and our writer unconsciously drew the deeper meaning that the sayings received from the life element to which he belonged. He may have drawn more meaning from there – especially in the first two sayings – than he knew himself and could fully develop.

*) I Kings 19:20 (LXX) [published as 20:20]: καταφιλήσω τὸν πατέρα μου καὶ ἀκολουθήσω ὀπίσω σου.

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§ 30. Order to cross to the other shore

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 2

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§ 30.

Order to cross to the other shore.

Matthew 8:18.

Luke (Ch. 8, 22) says nothing about why Jesus boarded the ship and undertook that voyage which brought him to the land of the Gadarenes after the miraculous calming of the storm. He simply says “One day, he got into a ship with his disciples and said to them, Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” Thus, he has given Schleiermacher an opportunity to not bother with trivialities, indeed with nothing, an opportunity which the apologetic critic has also used diligently. Jesus did not want to embark on a preaching tour *), otherwise he would not have been deterred by the rejecting requests of the people in the vicinity of Gadara from all further attempts on that shore. The intention attributed to him by Matthew – we add: as well as Mark *), to withdraw from the people, is not probable either: then he would not have landed again at the same place from where he had set out. The easiest way to understand the matter is to imagine that the disciples had actually gone out to fish and Jesus had accompanied them so as not to waste time for teaching. Only during the voyage did the idea come to him **), to greet the other side. Hence, his prompt return can also be explained.

*) About the Writings of Luke, p. 124.

*) Ibid., p. 1-5.

**) Ibid., p. 126.

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However, the fact that he returns so soon from the other side is solely the result of the pleas of the Gadarenes, otherwise it seems he would have stayed longer on that shore. But what finally undermines this explanation and makes all this misplaced acuteness unnecessary is the fact that it is not the disciples who set out and the Lord accompanies them, but the decision to cross – mind you, to cross! – comes from the Lord from the outset, and the disciples follow him. Finally, Luke has only left this account without connection to the previous one and did not exempt the pragmatism of Mark, because he added the arrival of Jesus’ mother and brothers to the parable discourse and therefore had to continue the narrative that Jesus gave the command to cross while giving the parable discourse from a boat and was still in it.

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