Vridar

2024-09-19

Problems Dating Israel’s Exodus and Conquest of Canaan

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

by Neil Godfrey

I use two sources for this post. The first is a widely used text for advanced studies (seminaries and universities) in the “biblical history of Israel”. The second is a research conference paper by a specialist in the Middle Bronze Age Levant.

Let’s get our bearings with respect to the various ages that will be referenced in what follows:

Ancient Times From the emergence of cities and the beginning of writing to Alexander the Great—i.e., the first three thousand years of recorded history. This was the era of the ancient empires of Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Anatolia. The kingdoms of Israel and Judah appeared toward the end of Ancient Times, during the Iron Age.

Early Bronze Age	3200 to 2000 B.C.E.
Middle Bronze Age	2000 to 1550 B.C.E.
Late Bronze Age	1550 to 1200 B.C.E.
Iron Age	1200 to 330 B.C.E.

Miller, J. Maxwell, and John H. Hayes. A History of Ancient Israel and Judah. 2nd Ed. Louisville, Ky. London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. p. 2

Under the heading Questionable Correlations between Archaeology and the Bible Miller and Hayes explain the problem with early attempts to line up the Bible’s accounts of Israel’s origins with archaeology:

During the early years of archaeological research and throughout most of the twentieth century many archaeologists and biblical scholars attempted to correlate the constantly increasing archaeological evidence with an essentially uncritical reading of the biblical account of Israel’s origins. This approach has been largely abandoned in recent years, for two reasons. First, both the biblical story and the archaeological evidence had to be used selectively, and often given strained interpretations as well, in order to achieve even a loose correlation. Second, an increasing number of biblical scholars and archaeologists have come to view the biblical account of Israel’s origins as idealistic and not historically trustworthy. It will be instructive to review some of the proposed correlations between the biblical account and archaeology that linger on in the public media but do not represent the current thinking in most scholarly circles. (p. 51)

The first of the “proposed correlations . . . lingering on in public media” they discuss is:

The Amorite Hypothesis

In the Early Bronze Age we have strong city states flourishing in the Fertile Crescent until towards 2000 B.C.E. when we find “a breakdown of this urban phase . . . followed by a period of largely nomadic and seminomadic society”.

Mesopotamian texts around this time or shortly before the “urban breakdown” phase mention Amurru (the Amorites). During the Middle Bronze Age there is said to be a “resurgence” of urban centres along with Amorite rulers of major Mesopotamian cities.
The hypothesis formulated in the 1930s was that Amorite migrations into the Levant had been responsible for the “urban breakdown” and it was the Amorites who were responsible for the waves of nomadic or seminomadic movements. The patriarchs of Genesis, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, who were said to have arrived from Ur of the Chaldees and who moved around the region of Canaan were understood against this background. The biblical patriarchs belonged to this “(semi)nomadic” time.

The hypothesis matched one selection of the Bible’s chronology:

And it came to pass in the four hundred and eightieth year after the children of Israel were come out of the land of Egypt, in the fourth year of Solomon’s reign over Israel, in the month Zif, which is the second month, that he began to build the house of the Lord. — 1 Kings 6:1

Now the sojourning of the children of Israel, who dwelt in Egypt, was four hundred and thirty years. — Exodus 12:40

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob (Absence of strong city states allows easy movement between Mesopotamia and Egypt; customs of the time were supposed to match those depicted in the Bible’s patriarchal narratives)	ca 1900 to 1800 B.C.E.
Hyksos rule in Egypt // Israelites enter Egypt	ca 1700 to 1550 B.C.E.
400 + years —–> Exodus // conquest of Canaan	ca 1100 B.C.E.
Solomon’s temple	ca 980 B.C.E.

Miller and Hayes point out that “there are serious problems” with the above hypothesis, noting:

A frontal assault on this view was carried out by T. L. Thompson, The Historicity of the Patriarchal Narratives (BZAW133; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1974); and John Van Seters, Abraham in History and Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1975). (p. 52)

There is no consensus among archaeologists that the Amorites were responsible for the urban changes between the Early and Middle Bronze Ages.
A timeline of biblical chronology using the genealogical data (Genesis 15:16, 46:8-11 and Exodus 6:18-20) requires four generations (Jacob-Levi-Amram-Moses) with each generation averaging 100 years.
The earliest extra-biblical reference to Israel is the Merneptah stele of ca 1200 B.C.E. announcing that Egypt had defeated “Israel” in Canaan so that they “were no more”.
The parallels between biblical names and customs, on the one hand, and those known from Middle and Late Bronze Mesopotamian texts, on the other, become less impressive when one takes into account that the sorts of names and customs involved were not confined to the second millennium b.c.e. but were apparently characteristic of the first millennium as well. This renders the parallels relatively useless for pinpointing any particular period as “the patriarchal age.” (p. 53)
Biblical “traditions” associate the patriarchs with Iron Age Arameans (Deuteronomy 26:5) and other Iron Age people (Moabites, Edomites, Philistines) — never with the Bronze Age Amorites.

The Exodus and Natural Catastrophes

Immanuel Velikovsky argued for catastrophes on earth resulting from earth’s close encounter with a mammoth comet, specifically resulting in the pulling of the waters of the Red Sea apart and returning them in a tidal wave to drown Pharaoh’s army. The Egyptian plagues and subsequent “long day” of Joshua were likewise the ripples from cosmic phenomena in dance.

Others have bucked the trend to date the volcanic eruption of Thera to around 1600 B.C.E. by marking it around 1450 B.C.E. Ash was responsible for the plagues and geological shifts produced massive waves destroying the Egyptian army pursuing Israel.

Bryant G. Wood and Piotr Bienkowski argue — behind the paywall of the Biblical Archaeological Review — over just how early in the Bronze Age an earthquake brought down the walls of Joshua’s Jericho. (When Miller and Hayes wryly comment on Wood’s argument, “apparently in perfect timing for the seventh day of the Israelite march around the walls”, I assumed they were being cynical. But no, a reading of Wood’s article does make it clear that the “earthquake” presumably struck after the Israelites had marched around the walls seven days!)

Theories of this sort attempt to give naturalistic and scientifically acceptable explanations for the more fantastic and miraculous biblical claims. In our opinion, however, these theories presuppose such hypothetical scenarios, such a catastrophic view of history, and such marvelous correlations of coincidental factors that they create more credibility problems of their own than the ones they are intended to solve. (p. 53)

The Ramesside Period as the Setting of the Exodus

The famous Ramses/Ramesses name featured eleven times throughout the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties of Egypt — from the Late Bronze to the Early Iron Age. And since in Exodus 1:11 we read . . .

So they put slave masters over them to oppress them with forced labor, and they built Pithom and Rameses as store cities for Pharaoh

. . . and since that bland “statement of fact” has, for some, a “ring of authenticity”, the Exodus is best dated during the reign of one of the Ramesses. The great Ramesses II is the one of choice. He began his long reign around 1300 B.C.E. One detail in favour of this time slot is that it would allow the Israelites to reach Canaan in time for the above mentioned Merneptah stele inscription to record that “Israel is no more” after an Egyptian campaign.

Hayes and Miller again draw readers’ attentions to the drawbacks of this hypothesized date:

For one thing, we would expect Israelite storytellers to be familiar with and to use Mesopotamian and Egyptian names and customs in their narratives. Another problem with this proposed correlation between Egyptian history and the biblical narrative is that it does not square very well with biblical chronology. The Nineteenth and Twentieth dynasties ruled from the end of the fourteenth century until after the beginning of the eleventh century. Yet biblical chronology seems to place the exodus already in the fifteenth century. (p. 54)

Transjordanian Occupational Gap

It was once believed that there had been a significant gap of more than half a millennium in settlement in the region east of the Jordan River prior to the thirteenth century. From the 1200s B.C.E. renewed settlements and the rise of the kingdoms of Edom and Moab were witnessed. Given that the Biblical account of the wandering Israelites encountering the kingdoms of Edom and Moab on their way to Canaan, it followed that the Exodus and conquest of Canaan could not have happened before the 1200s B.C.E.

This line of argumentation was combined with, if not inspired by, the identification of Pharaoh Ramesses II as the pharaoh of the exodus (see above).

But there is a but…

More recent archaeological exploration in the Moabite and Edomite regions of southern Transjordan has discredited the idea of a sharp occupational gap prior to the thirteenth century. (p. 55)

Thirteenth-Century Destructions

West of the Jordan River, in the land of Canaan, there is evidence of “widespread city destructions” toward the end of the Late Bronze Age. Here is the accompanying map from the Miller and Hayes volume (p. 56):

Again, M&H list the problems with this hypothesis:

Late Bronze Age city destructions “were part of a general pattern throughout the ancient world”. We cannot know if the destructions occurred simultaneously or even with the onslaught of a common enemy. We do not know if warfare was responsible in most cases.
With the exceptions of Lachish and Hazor, the cities destroyed in this period are not the ones listed in the biblical account of the conquest.
Most of the sites that are identified with cities that the biblical account does associate with the conquest, on the other hand, have produced little or no archaeological indication even of having been occupied during the Late Bronze Age, much less of having been destroyed at the end of the period. Prominent among such “conquest cities” are Arad (present-day Tell Arad), Heshbon (Tell Hisban), Jericho (Tell es-Sultan), Ai (et-Tell), and Gibeon (el-Jib). (p. 55)

The Search for a Distinctively Israelite Material Culture

If only distinctive cultural remains could identify “Israelites” in distinction from other ethnic groups in the land! Some scholars have focussed on “collared-rim jars and four-room houses”:

The collared-rim jars; the four-room house: room 1 is a narrow courtyard, rooms 2, 3 and 4 are separated by pillars – room 3 likely being unroofed. People likely slept in the upper storey, animals below. – (Images from Dever, Rise of Ancient Israel)

Yet there is nothing intrinsically “Israelite” about either of these features, and in fact they show up in the regions of ancient Ammon and Moab, east of the Jordan River, as well as in the areas generally associated with Israelite settlement. Apparently these items belonged to a commonly shared culture throughout Iron I Palestine and therefore cannot be used to isolate particular sites, geographical areas, or historical periods as “Israelite.” (p. 57)

And as for pig bones? Surely the absence of pigs would indicate Israelite settlement, yes?

From the foregoing discussion, it is clear that no human behavioral evidence exists to indicate that pig avoidance was unique to any particular group in the ancient Near East. The fact that complex variables affect the choice to raise swine have confounded attempts to find an origin to the pig prohibition. Lots of people, for lots of reasons, were not eating pork. The bald fact is that there is no date before the Hellenistic period when we can assert with any confidence, based on archaeological and textual evidence, that the religious injunction which enjoined Jews from eating pork was actually followed by them alone as a measure of social distinction. (Hesse & Wapnish, p. 261 — referenced by Miller and Hayes — See also the post: The “Late” Origins of Judaism – The Archaeological Evidence)

The Conquest of Canaan: Observations of a Philologist . . .

Continued in the next post . . . .

Miller, J. Maxwell, and John H. Hayes. A History of Ancient Israel and Judah. 2nd ed. Louisville, Ky. London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006.

Hesse, Brian, and Paula Wapnish. “Can Pig Remains Be Used for Ethnic Diagnosis in the Ancient Near East?” In The Archaeology of Israel: Constructing the Past, Interpreting the Present, edited by Neil Asher Silberman and David B. Small, 238–70. Sheffield, England: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997.

Shanks, Hershel, William G. Dever, P. Kyle McCarter Jr, and Bruce Halpern. The Rise of Ancient Israel. Lectures Presented at a Symposium Sponsored by the Resident Associate Program, Smithsonian Institution. Biblical Archaeology Society, 2013.

2024-09-18

If the whitefellas had just asked

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

by Neil Godfrey

I am currently reading Edenglassie, a novel by Melissa Lucashenko, because it was introduced to me at the Brisbane Writers’ Festival a few months ago and because I am always delving into historical records relating to the aboriginal people, especially those around where I live.

I recall that many years back, probably like most other white people here, occasionally noticing a few black people in a city park, assuming they were drunk and sensing them to be almost like an alien threat to decency. Here is an excerpt from Edenglassie — an old aboriginal woman, Eddie, is in hospital telling a naive white person, Dartmouth, what it used to be like back when whites first settled here:

“And there was always blackfellas camped near the Valley [a part of the city ofBrisbane], right up till the war, they was never shifted off. A lot of that crowd ended up in Spring Hill and Paddington later on, stone’s throw from the city. The Beehives, the Johnsons and the Wallabys. You ask Aunty Deb Beehive, her old father and uncles used to all corroboree at Spring Hill in the seventies. We’d hear em often when we was over that side of the river, clapsticks and all. And card games at Victoria Park, oh my! Biggest card games all us Murries had. No, we was a part of Brisbane alright, we was always in the thick of things.’

‘And this, ah, crowd – the fringe dwellers at Spring Hill. Where were they from?’ Dartmouth asked, . . . .

Granny Eddie peered at him. Not just an idiot, but blurry too.
‘From?’

‘Yes, originally. Before they were in the Valley.’

‘They weren’t from anywhere. They was always there.”

“Dartmouth adjusted his glasses, flushing. ‘Ah, yes. Of course. Of course, they were.’

‘They call us mob fringe dwellers,’ Eddie added, ‘but Goories ain’t no fringe, you whitefellas is the fringe! We always lived on our own Countries and then the dagai come and plonked themselves down next to us. Or on top of us, if they felt like it! Beehive and Wallaby mob always been in the Valley, long before John Oxley came up the damn river! Fringe dwellers my dot! That word makes me proper wild!’

Dartmouth changed tack.

‘Okay, roger that, no fringe dwellers. Do you know much about the convict era, Eddie? Or the Petrie family?’ he probed delicately. ‘They say Tom Petrie* grew up with the local tribe?’

‘Oh, he did, he did!’ Eddie sat up, enthused. ‘Well, he had to. He was . . . the only white jarjum here for years and years. He learnt the lingo from a baby, a few different lingos in fact. And he was the only one to ask. Ever.’ Granny’s forefinger was raised in admonition of all other colonists.

‘Ask?’ . . . .

“Yep. He was raised with the Yagara mob, so when he grew up and got married, he knew to ask where to select his land, he got permission off of Old Man Dalapai, see. Tom was a man of culture. They say he went through the Bora ceremonies and all … my grandad knew him. And Tom’s father, old Grandfather Andrew Petrie, he saved the Bunya Pines from the logging, Grandad Charlie reckoned. Cos he knew how much them trees mean to the blackfellas.’

‘So, it’s true the Petries were friendly with the Brisbane tribe?’ Dartmouth prompted, mentally deleting his stockwhips in favour of Granny’s narrative. ‘And Tom was actually initiated?’

‘Oh, yes,’ answered Granny. ‘Initiation means ya part of the tribe, well and truly,’ she said, answering the second part of Dartmouth’s question. Suddenly growing tired, she felt the nagging ache in her neck starting up again. ‘The Petries were decent people, educated people. If everyone had been like them things could have been different alright. If the whitefellas had just asked.”

Lucashenko, Melissa. Edenglassie. St Lucia, Qld.: University of Queensland Press, 2023. http://www.librarything.com/work/31046772/book/265015661. (pp 80-82)

* Tom Petrie was a historical person. For a fascinating education in aboriginal life “as it really was” an absolute “must read” is Tom Petrie’s reminiscences of early Queensland. Tom Petrie as a boy mixed with the local aboriginals, learning more than one of their languages (as a rule they were multilingual), and was highly respected by them all. And when older he really did ask them for land to settle before completing legal paperwork with the white authorities.

(I was prompted to write this post when I received an email notifying me that work I had once assisted with for the preservation of aboriginal languages was cited in Australian academic libraries and the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals.)

2024-09-17

Seeking a Plausible Origin for the Seducing Serpent in the Garden of Eden

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

by Neil Godfrey

I intend in this post to throw an idea into the ring for consideration. I have very little with which to defend the idea but I find it of interest. I have nothing stronger than that as my motive for posting it here:

that the serpent in the Garden of Eden was an allusion to the seduction of Greek wisdom

Early last year I posted — solely for the purpose of showing that the idea was not unknown among scholars — a summary of one academic proposal that Plato at one point was ultimately drawing upon the biblical Garden of Eden story of “the fall”. I still have strong reservations about the case made in that article and for that reason I have from time to time returned to have another look at the relevant sources to see if more cogent sense can be made of the comparisons or if the notion should be dropped entirely. Now I would like to propose a more plausible and cogent case for the reverse: that the biblical authors were drawing upon Plato. (The idea that the Hebrew Bible drew upon Greek literature is a minority view among scholars but nonetheless a reputable one that has been published in academic sources: see Niels Peter Lemche, Mandell and Freedman, Jan-Wim Wessellius, Philippe Wajdenbaum, Russell Gmirkin, and related posts etc)

For the significance of the serpent to Greeks in general and Athenians in particular, see the post
The Ambiguity of the Serpent: Greek versus Biblical

It is impressive to note how ophidian or anguine symbolism permeates Greek and Roman legends and myths, shaping Hellenistic culture. (Charlesworth, 127)

Yes, the serpent was a positive image among the Greeks of the classical and hellenistic eras of their chief god Zeus, but I will offer a more specific literary connection.

Evangelia Dafni attempted to argue that Plato’s panegyric of Socrates was indebted to some extent to the serpent who tempted Eve (see first link above). A key weakness in the argument, I believe, was its failure to provide a clear motive for the borrowing. If there was borrowing from the Hebrews it seemed to fail to add anything extra to the understanding of Plato’s text.

But notice how different everything looks in reverse. A potentially new depth of meaning is indeed added to the Genesis narrative by inverting Dafni’s suggestion.

Socrates can justly be considered the paragon of Greek wisdom. One might say that Socrates was the midwife at the birth of Greek philosophy, epitomized by Plato and Aristotle and their offshoots. In his dialogue The Symposium Socrates is directly compared with a viper whose bite is compared with Socrates overpowering his interlocutor by his unassailable questioning and speech. Socrates is depicted as being in a class of his own above all other mortals because of his wisdom as Eden’s serpent is wise above all the beasts of the earth. Socrates offers the wisdom of the gods. If one who had not met Socrates felt no disgrace or shame about his person, after an encounter with Socrates he would indeed be overwhelmed with shame of his former state of ignorance — as Adam and Eve were not ashamed of their nakedness until after they succumbed to the serpent’s temptation. What Socrates offers with his words is described as full of beauty, desirability and wisdom.

At this point, let’s recall the passage in Genesis:

2:25 And the two were naked, both Adam and his wife, and were not ashamed.

3:1 Now the serpent was more φρονιμώτατος [LXX = discerning, prudent, wise] than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”

2 The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, 3 but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”

4 “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. 5 “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

6 When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. 7 Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

Let’s back up a little and start at the beginning.

Socrates is telling his companions a story of his encounter with the prophetess Diotima of Mantineia (punning names that could be translated literally as “Fear-God of Prophet-ville” – Rouse, 97) who educated him about the nature of love and immortality. Interestingly (perhaps, for me at any rate) Socrates deems the act of sexual intercourse between a man and woman as generating a form of immortality:

“To the mortal creature, generation is a sort of eternity and immortality,” she replied; “and . . . . we needs must yearn for immortality no less than for good . . . .”

All this she taught me at various times . . . . (Symposium, 206e-207a)

The discussion extends to addressing various ways humans can be thought of as immortal (“continually becoming a new person”), not unlike (this is my own comparison here, not that of Socrates) the common ancient image (as ancient as the epic of Gilgamesh) of the serpent regularly shedding its old skin in a process of “eternal” renewal.

I was astonished at her words, and said: “Is this really true, O thou wise Diotima?”

And she answered with all the authority of an accomplished sophist: “Of that, Socrates, you may be assured; — think only of the ambition of men, and you will wonder at the senselessness of their ways, unless you consider how they are stirred by the love of an immortality of fame. They are ready to . . . undergo any sort of toil, and even to die, for the sake of leaving behind them a name which shall be eternal. (208c)

Socrates proceeds to report Diotima’s elucidation of what is truly beautiful, “passing from view to view of beautiful things” until the one learning wisdom finally grasps true beauty and no longer is content with the inferior beauty of the physical world. Diotima concludes:

“Do consider,” she said, “beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, [one] will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities . . . and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if any man ever is.” (212a)

After Socrates’ speech in which the words of a divinely inspired prophet were presenting the ultimate in beauty that could ever be desired by mortals for the sake of an immortal name, who should rudely interrupt the occasion but a drunken Alcibiades. Alcibiades was a “man of the world”, a famed political figure, conscious of his beauty but also one who was enamoured of Socrates, both intellectually and physically.

Bust of Silenus (The MET) and Marsyas the satyr (ChatGPT image): “He is exactly like the busts of Silenus, which are set up in the statuaries, shops, holding pipes and flutes in their mouths; and they are made to open in the middle, and have images of gods inside them.“

In Plato’s dialogue each guest had been expected to deliver some kind of ode to “love”. Alcibiades, arriving late, instead will tell all what Socrates himself can be likened to — in similes. Socrates is like the ugly Silenus, grotesque on the outside but cut him open and inside you will find images of the gods. Or he is like the entrancing satyr Marsyas who invented the music of the flute and “bewitched men by the power of his mouth”. The only difference, Alcibiades explains, is that Socrates can enchant and stir a longing for the divine merely by the means of his speech:

The only difference … is that you [=Socrates] do the very same without instruments by bare words! . . .
When one hears you . . . we are overwhelmed and entranced. (215c-d)

Alcibiades brings in another simile with which to liken Socrates and his words: the serpent, specifically the persuasive power of the serpent!

Besides, I share the plight of the man who was bitten by the snake. . . . I have been bitten by a more painful viper, and in the most painful spot where one could be bitten — the heart, or soul, or whatever it should be called — stung and bitten by his discourses in philosophy, which hang on more cruelly than a viper when they seize on a young and not ungifted soul, and make it do and say whatever they will. (217e-218a)

Eve is not bitten by the serpent, of course, but she and Adam do for the first time feel shame as a consequence of listening to him. Shame was the bite Alcibiades said he felt after his time with Socrates. Alcibiades had attempted to seduce Socrates sexually but found him unmoved. Socrates gently chastised him by pointing out that he was trying to exchange what was beautiful to one’s physical eyes and pleasures (bronze) for the true beauty of wisdom (gold) – with the result that Alcibiades felt deep shame for his attempts to attain sexual favour with Socrates:

And there is one experience I have in presence of this man alone, such as nobody would expect in me; and that is, to be made to feel ashamed [αἰσχύνομαι, a form of the same word in LXX Gen 2:25]; he alone can make me feel it. . . I cannot contradict him . . . and, whenever I see him, I am ashamed . . . . (216b-c)

It is at that point where Alcibiades begins to describe his vain attempt to seduce Socrates and its humiliating aftermath.

Socrates was a man like no other:

There are many more quite wonderful things that one could find to praise in Socrates: but . . . it is his not being like any other man in the world, ancient or modern, that is worthy of all wonder. . . .

When you agree to listen to the talk of Socrates . . . you will find his words first full of sense, as no others are . . . (221c-222a)

But, Alcibiades warns, beware of being seduced by his wisdom to the extent that you are stirred to a desire for sexual gratification (an exchange of false beauty for true) and one feel shame as a consequence:

That is a warning to you . . . not to be deceived by this man . . . . (222b)

There we have it. In one episode in Plato’s dialogues we have a blend of a person “more wise” than any other mortal, one likened to a serpent, one whose speech is overpoweringly persuasive, who promises a form of immortality, who displays all that is truly beautiful and to be desired, yet who leaves the ignorant feeling shame over their former condition — specifically in relation to sexual desire.

Much more could be written but I have introduced them in earlier posts. We have seen Russell Gmirkin’s observation that it was Plato who portrayed an idyllic origin scene where animals and humans could converse with one another. I linked above to a similar discussion by Evangelia Dafni who drew attention to Plato’s comparison of Socrates with the serpent — although I believe this post brings an explanation for a possible borrowing from Plato to the Bible. If we ride with the possibility of a Hellenistic origin for the biblical literature, we may see in the serpent’s temptation of Adam and Eve a rebuke to the Greek philosophy that would have stood opposed to the wisdom that must come from an obedience to the commands of God. The image of the serpent as a religious icon had been familiar enough in the Levant for millennia and was most prominent anew in the Hellenistic world with its associations with Zeus, Athena and a host of other Greek associations (compare, for example, the golden fleece in a tree guarded by a serpent) — and even as a fit simile for the shame-inducing yet enlightening and immortality promising wisdom of Socrates.

By no means do I expect the above thoughts to seduce an innocent to partake of the wisdom of a Hellenistic origin of the Hebrew Bible. I present the above thoughts as an observation of some interest to those already persuaded on other grounds for the stories of Genesis being being formed from the raw material of Greek literature, Plato in particular.

Charlesworth, James H. The Good and Evil Serpent: How a Universal Symbol Became Christianized. New Haven Conn.: Yale University Press, 2010.

Dafni, Evangelia G. “Genesis 2–3 and Alcibiades’s Speech in Plato’s Symposium: A Cultural Critical Reading.” HTS Teologiese Studies 71, no. 1 (2015).

Rouse, W. H. D. Great Dialogues of Plato – The Republic – Apology – Crito – Phaedo – Ion – Meno – Symposium. Mentor Books, 1956.

Translations of Plato are a mix of those by Jowett, Fowler and Rouse (above) — with constant reference to the Greek text at the Perseus Digital Library

2024-09-12

Meet the Prophets of Israel’s Predecessors

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

by Neil Godfrey

I was recently somewhat startled to learn that the Elijahs, the Isaiahs, the Ezekiels and Jeremiahs of the Bible were familiar characters in diverse ancient Near Eastern cultures long before biblical Israel appeared on the scene. I am talking about ancient Syria 900 years before the emergence of the kingdom of Israel in the archaeological record. The following information comes entirely from Jean-Marie Durand’s discussion of the Amorite religion in Syria as documented in the Mari archives. The scholarly world has known about it at least since 1948. So why has it taken me so long to learn about this class of religious persons outside the Bible? Prophets could be “anybody” who felt a call from a deity and, as in the Bible, these prophets would take their message to their rulers — a habit well known among the Bible’s prophets. Sometimes the prophets would perform symbolic acts just as we read about some of the Bible’s prophets. Very often the prophecies would be written down and stored in official archives.

(map image from World History Encyclopeida)

Note how familiar to the Biblical tropes it all sounds.

Indeed, at those times, people diligently sought to divine the intentions of the gods, who were thought to be deeply concerned with what was happening in this world. They wanted to know both how the gods reacted to human plans and what they expected, in turn, from human actions. In this sense, the gods behaved just like the human king, without whose authorization no initiative could be taken . . . .

Humans therefore had to inform themselves to avoid certain actions or, conversely, to be encouraged in them. However, the beliefs of the time admitted that the gods could take the initiative to send messages and warn humans, both to help and to admonish them. The contact between the spheres of the divine and the human took various forms, and an ongoing dialogue was established in several ways.

(Durand, p 431 – translation)

Certain persons felt called by a deity and would convey the messages from that god in the first person voice of god so that there could be “no doubt” that the prophet was not misinterpreting the words given him or her.

There were various kinds of prophets, including groups of full time “professionals” as well as lone figures from the lay community, men and women.

A king would sometimes take the initiative and seek the advice of a prophet (or of the god speaking through the prophet). Other times a prophet would approach the court and convey a message to the king through intermediaries.

The Calling

One text speaks of “prophets” – nabûm – as a profession, using a cognate of the same word for prophet that we find in the Hebrew Bible – nābî. The meaning is related to being named or being called.

When I arrived at Asmad, I gathered the nabûm of the Bedouins (= Bensim’alites) and took the omens for the king’s well-being.

These could only be technicians in whose presence, or thanks to whom, investigations into the future were conducted. These people also gave precise advice on conduct to the king. They thus played exactly the role one would expect from the diviner-bârûm or the prophet-âpilum. It is difficult to avoid concluding that, whatever the differences between the Old Babylonian nabûm and the Hebrew nābî’, the denomination already existed as early as the 18th century BCE and referred to someone who gave a discourse about the future.

(Durand, 434 – trans)

Recall how biblical prophets would speak of themselves being overwhelmed by God’s calling them to a difficult mission. If an ancient city-state king in Syria commissioned a servant to fulfil a duty (such as being sent to administer a neighbouring population) the act could be compared with a deity calling a prophet. Note this letter describing such a commission from the king:

My Lord has assigned me to a (too) great task; I do not have the strength (for it): (it is) like a god “calling” a human. Now, I, worm of the foundations, my Lord has touched my chin [touching by the king was a mark of transferring his power or person to another], which is characteristic of his divinity, and he has sent me among men.

. . . . It was genuinely believed that there was a personal contact between the god and the one he “called,” before sending him back (on a mission) to the humans. The individual had to literally feel summoned by the god (nabûm) at a certain point; the mission granted to him was therefore not “fixed for all eternity,” but represented a “historical event.”

The very expression in this letter “sent me back among the humans” allows us to understand why the terms “message” or “mission” were commonly used to refer to the prophetic message itself. This “prophetic mission” is emphasized in more than one text.

(Durand 435f – trans)

Being sent on a mission with a message from the god was not always said to be given to a prophet, but sometimes simply to a “man of (the) god”:

There are several documents where someone, who has no specific prophetic or religious title otherwise, arrives at the royal official’s place carrying a divine message. The most spectacular example has been known for a long time: it is . . . the Revelation of Dagan of Terqa. The god had said to Malik-Dagan: . . .

“Now, go! You are my messenger!”

The individual is defined only as “man of Šakkâ,” not as a priest, nor a prophet, and he did not seem predestined by his functions to serve as an intermediary between Dagan and the king of Mari. Another purely secular individual, a “free man’s wife,” proclaims: . . .

“Dagan has sent me.”

(Durand 436 trans)

Protocol among kings was that a gift (items of clothing or jewellery) be given to a messenger who arrived from another kingdom. The same protocol applied to a messenger from a god.

Two Types of Prophet

There were two types of prophet: the forthrightly eloquent and the “maddies”, or more technically, the muhhûm. The word derives from a verb indicating an extreme form of madness, or “completely mad”, one might say.

As Saul turned to leave Samuel, God changed Saul’s heart, and all these signs were fulfilled that day. 10 When he and his servant arrived at Gibeah, a procession of prophets met him; the Spirit of God came powerfully upon him, and he joined in their prophesying. 11 When all those who had formerly known him saw him prophesying with the prophets, they asked each other, “What is this that has happened to the son of Kish? Is Saul also among the prophets?” — 1 Samuel 10:9-11

These muhhûm would suddenly be taken over by a fit of “enthusiasm” and stand up in the temple to cry out, or in the middle of the performing of a sacrifice would in the presence of many witnesses enter a trance and vehemently proclaim a message. There is evidence that their hair was like a “tangled mane” so we can picture them as “more or less wild and unkempt beings”. They could engage in primitive behaviour such as tearing apart an animal with hands or teeth and devouring it at the city gate to convey, say, in pantomime that the god would “devour” (send a plague) just as the prophet had devoured the animal. These muhhûm, prone to trances and behaviour of “possessed ones” could form groups. We are reminded of the Bible’s account of Saul being caught up among groups of prophets who were in trance-like state as they prophesied.

The other kind of prophet, the âpilum, could present long lyrical speeches often of high literary quality. An âpilum could be sent for by the king and ordered to find out the will of the god on a matter of policy the king was considering. The âpilum was recognized as a legitimate messenger of the god who could call on the god to find out his or her will.

Perhaps the king wanted a firm commitment from the god regarding the successes to come. The âpilum . . . may only be a simple visitor who transmitted a question from the king. He had access to the deities of the major religious centres of his kingdom and also served as a messenger between them. In the absence of the king from his capital, it is to the highest authority of the state that he reports, and it is this authority that is responsible for transmitting the information. He thus has the rank of an ambassador, and his message indeed deals with decisive matters, such as peace with one of the major powers of the time. . . . Nowhere do we see a muhhûm being entrusted with such missions and having such a regular place near the king.

(Durand, 446 – trans)

During times of war such a prophet was able to cross in and out of opposing armies lines in safety. Presumably his person was considered sacrosanct and he could serve as an intermediary between the warring parties.

The same kinds of prophets would make it clear that it was a particular deity who had raised a king to the throne, and therefore the king had a special responsibility to safeguard the temple and demands of that god. For a king to neglect the will of the god who raised him to power would be to risk divine punishment. In this situation, the prophet (âpilum) would take the initiative to visit the king and report his shortcomings. One such prophecy is recorded:

The respondent of Marduk stood at the gate of Eme-Dagan and did not cease to cry out amid the assembly of the entire country: ‘You went to the emperor of Elam to establish peaceful relations. In making peace, you handed over to the emperor of Elam treasures that belonged to Marduk and the city of Babylon. You depleted silos and warehouses that belonged to me, without returning the favors I bestowed. And now you want to go to Ekallâtum? He who has spent a treasure that belonged to me must not ask me for its interest.’”

In this situation the prophet cries out like a wild “muhhûm” but in fact his speech is “longer and more complex” that that of the one possessed.

Many of the prophecies recorded were exhortations to the king to continue in his policies of ruling well and piously. Others were long lists of tirades predicting the doom of neighbouring kingdoms.

When Samuel had all Israel come forward by tribes, the tribe of Benjamin was taken by lot. Then he brought forward the tribe of Benjamin, clan by clan, and Matri’s clan was taken. Finally Saul son of Kish was taken.” — 1 Samuel 10:20f

There were other types of positions that we might think of as related to prophets, such as “seers”. Seers would be tasked with casting lots to acquire a yes/no answer at appropriate times and places such as whether or not to accept a treaty, to besiege a city, and so forth.

Authenticating the message

In the texts that use the formulation “He stood up and…” or “He had a trance” …, the prophet does not specify that he is sent by the deity: the latter indeed speaks directly, in the first person, through his mouth; the assistants observe the event; the evident manifestations of the ecstatic phenomenon are sufficient. . . . Some ecstasies must have taken place far away or without witnesses, and those to whom the divine words were reported had not witnessed them. This is the example of Malik-Dagan named messenger by Dagan in the solitude of a dream . . . Another text specifies:

Now I have written down the oracle he delivered to me, and I sent him to my Lord. However, the oracle, he did not deliver it to me in secret; it was during the assembly of the Elders that he delivered his oracle.

(Durand, 437f – trans)

In cases where the prophet did not deliver the message in person to the king, the message would be written down and delivered by a court official:

Quite often, however, the prophet . . . does not go directly to the king but passes through an intermediary. Only these situations would have led to the drafting of a tablet, while those where the king was directly addressed did not leave written records. . . .

When the man “mandated by the god” does not plan to deliver the message to the king himself, he goes to the legal authority to entrust him with it, possibly emphasizing the responsibility incurred in case of failure to convey the information. An official specifies:

“This man repeated this dream to me and placed (all) responsibility on me, saying: ‘Write to the king!’ That is why I have written to my Lord.”

(Durand, 438 – trans)

The official relaying the message to the king was only fulfilling his job responsibility of keeping the king informed of all important news, including messages from the gods.

Several times, we notice that the royal official before whom the bearers of prophecies present themselves imposes witnesses on them. This was likely a means of ensuring that the message was transmitted to the king accurately and that the official had no personal interest in what was being demanded of the king. It is a safeguard for the official, not for the prophet, whose speech is in some way fixed ne varietur. This procedure is particularly illustrated during the claims made by Addu of Kalassu against the territory of Alahtum …. But the motivations for the operation become clear when we see that a … scribe, sent to record the respondent’s words, does so in the presence of witnesses so that the expression on the tablet cannot be contested.

(Durand, 439 – trans)

When sending a message to the royal court the prophet would include some personal token such as a lock of hair or a cord attached to an identifying seal. It was up to the king to decide whether to follow up the delivered message. Sometimes practical wisdom outweighed any hints a prophetic message might have against a proposed action.

In any case, the sincerity of the prophet is never questioned, even if the stakes are politically very significant. Such suspicions are the product of modern mentalities. “False prophets” are prophets of false gods, not “simulators.”

(Durand, 480 – trans)

.
There was a diverse range of both prophetic messages and literary forms.

Types of messages

Threats against foreign countries Continue reading “Meet the Prophets of Israel’s Predecessors”

2024-09-10

Christian Origins: Let’s Not Discount the Indian Connection

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

by Neil Godfrey

We are so accustomed to viewing Christian origins within an exclusively Western orb. In our minds we have the images of a Roman Empire that stops abruptly at the Parthian border:

Image from https://www.worldhistory.org/image/15518/the-provinces-of-the-roman-empire-under-augustus/

But what if we were to shift Italy a little further west with a view to imagining where Palestine and Egypt were positioned in the grand scheme of things?

Image from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indo-Roman_trade_relations

Now try to register this newly emerging possibility:

Some economic historians now estimate that such was the scale of the Red Sea trade at this period [early imperial Rome] that the customs taxes raised by Roman officials on the trade coming through the Red Sea would alone have covered around one-third of the entire revenues that the Roman Empire required to administer its global conquests and maintain its legions, from Scotland to the borders of Persia and from the Sahara to the banks of the Rhine and Danube. . . .

Indeed according to some recent calculations, customs taxes on trade with India may have generated as much as one-third of the entire income of the Roman exchequer. . . . [A more cautious estimate by Andrew Wilson in his 2014 Cambridge Companion to the Roman Economy essay is that the quarter tax on the Red Sea ships amounted to a third of the annual cost of the army.]

Dalrymple, William. The Golden Road (pp. 6, 55, 318). Bloomsbury Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Compare this map of locations of Roman coin hoards:

The map shows Roman coin hoards: none are found east of the Pamirs or the Oxus. But there is a notable concentration of Roman gold all around the coasts of India and Sri Lanka, as well as at Aden and on the coast of the Red Sea. Dalrymple, William. The Golden Road (p. 484). Bloomsbury Publishing. Kindle Edition.

It all began with Mark Antony’s defeat at the Battle of Actium and the establishment of Octavian’s/Augustus’s new imperial order. With the regular trade winds to and from India to the Red Sea a one way journey would take forty days:

Indian traders heading west used to arrive with the trade winds in early summer and ride the summer monsoon home in August; with the winds behind you, the journey from the mouth of the Red Sea to Gujarat could take as little as forty days, though if you missed the winds the round trip might take as long as a year, and cause you to take a prolonged holiday on the Nile.

Dalrymple, William. The Golden Road (p. 5). Bloomsbury Publishing. Kindle Edition.

And just as in more recent times we know Christian missionaries travelled with traders into South America and Africa, so did Buddhist monks travel to Roman ruled regions.

Hermann Detering broached the hypothesis that Buddhism was a significant player in the development of Christianity. I suspect few others have explored his arguments with much serious attention.

I wonder if a reconfiguration of our mental (and cultural) maps might encourage us to examine his thesis more closely. In my visits to different countries in south-east Asia I would always visit places of religious note and one scene always struck me: Buddha walking on water to his disciples just as Jesus…. as per these earlier posts:

https://vridar.org/2018/04/25/crossing-the-water-comparing-buddhist-and-christian-imagery/
https://vridar.org/2019/03/12/stories-of-walking-on-water-looking-for-sources/

But setting aside the question of Christian origins, the place of India in the history of the world in the past 2500 years is most definitely worth a major re-think: Please DO take a moment to listen to this podcast…..

Historian William Dalrymple on India’s Golden Road

The guest being interviewed in that podcast talks of several places I have visited — and his interview makes me want to return and re-explore those places.

How I would love to be on a committee today planning the history curriculum for school students. So much has been learned since I was in a classroom — the wide diversities of lifestyles and social organizations in prehistoric periods; how climate changes impacted civilizations; … and even the place of India as a fulcrum in world history — sending mathematical advances to the West and literature to the East. You will not regret taking the time to listen to the 50 or so minutes of that interview (pending your reading of the book in question).

Dalrymple, William. The Golden Road: How Ancient India Transformed the World. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2024.

2024-08-27

“I am not persuaded” — valid criticism or merely posturing?

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

by Neil Godfrey

How often does one encounter the “I am not persuaded” copout? I call it a copout because it usually functions as an easy escape for one who is unable to say why a disliked argument is faulty. Here’s a formal response to the “I am not persuaded” line:

How might we recognize inappropriate doubt masquerading as valid criticism? Such doubt generally does not attend to the actual data and its explanation, falsifying it directly. It begs the question. Or, more commonly, it suggests a comparative situation but fails to supply the comparison; a given argument might be pronounced insufficient to convince, but what exactly establishes argumentative sufficiency is not stated (and usually cannot be). Of course, such judgments are meaningless without an overt standard or measure of sufficiency. And that measure is the data itself in relation to the broader object under investigation and the current explanation in play! Do these actually match up, or is a problem discernible in their relationship(s)? If the latter, the appropriate critical process should elicit doubt, along with the modification or abandonment of the hypothesis. Modification or the clear provision of an explanatory alternative is a signal that the appropriate critical method and doubt are operative. Without these elements, a doubting critic runs the danger of merely posturing.

Campbell, Douglas A. Framing Paul: An Epistolary Biography. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2014. p. 18

2024-08-25

Questioning the Identity/Historicity of the Apostle Paul

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

by Neil Godfrey

These past few weeks I’ve been trying to untangle my way through the data strands that seem to relate to Christian origins and early development (again) and I find myself coming back to the chimerical figure of Paul (again).

When I reach this point, as I have done so many times before, I tend to seek out (again) critics of the radical views and defenders of some form of canonical figure. This time, one of those critics I have dusted off from my database of electronic files is Richard Carrier. About nine years ago he posted The Historicity of Paul the Apostle in which he sharply criticized the arguments of Hermann Detering and Robert Price proposing that Paul was not a historical person. In this post I am more interested in what he has to say about Detering’s case than Price’s since it is Detering’s work (and works he engages with: Schoeps and Schwegler in particular) that I have been deeply immersed in recently. Carrier writes of Detering:

The best formal attempt to argue for the non-historicity of Paul is that of Hermann Detering (see The Fabricated Paul). I cannot ascertain his qualifications in the field. But his writings are well-informed. They just trip over logic a lot. His case is not sound. Nor is anyone else’s I’ve examined. They falter on basic methodology (like ignoring the effect prior probability must have on a conclusion, or conflating possibility with probability) and sometimes even facts (e.g., Detering seems to think self-referencing signatures commonly appear only in forgery; in fact, they are commonly found on real letters—I’ve seen several examples in papyrological journals).

Before I continue, some readers may think that my focus has been slanted towards “extreme” or “fringe” positions — terms that I find problematic despite their appearance in scholarly publications — but I must hasten to explain that the reason I don’t post so often on mainstream views is simply because they are widely recognized and readily accessible for anyone interested anyway. There are in fact two recent works on Galatians in particular that have made rich contributions to reading that epistle in new ways but within the parameters of “mainstream scholarship” that I would like to post about here, too. But I need to see if I can unravel a few questions relating to core issues first. Everything in its time. And speaking of time, I do point out again that the post by Carrier I am addressing is almost a decade old so I am not assuming he would necessarily write the same today.

I must also make it clear that I am not addressing the Paul-Simon Magus connection argument even though that was the focus of Richard Carrier’s criticism. I will address what I consider a few less well-founded criticisms of Detering, however.

But to the chase, and I have no doubts that that will be a collegial dialogue. (I further note that the blog post of 2015 has a tone of one of those pieces “written on the fly” — leaving the reader with the impression that more care and detail would have been added in a different venue at another time.)

Carrier’s first specific criticism:

Detering seems to think self-referencing signatures commonly appear only in forgery

I do not see evidence to support that criticism in any of Detering’s work, including in the specific item I understand Carrier was addressing: The Falsified (or Fabricated) Paul. The specific passage in focus here is Galatians 6:11

See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand!

The link is to a page with thirty plus translations of the same passage.

Detering’s focus in The Falsified Paul is the inconsistency among scholarly exegetes:

The writer’s reference to his handwriting in 2 Thessalonians 3:17—’I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand. This is the mark in every letter of mine; it is the way I write’—is regarded by most exegetes as a sign of the letter’s inauthenticity. Why is the corresponding reference in Galatians not so regarded?

(Detering, p. 55, my bolding)

What would interest me is a comparison of the specific terminology of the signatures we have in the Pauline letters and an explanation for these statements. A quick cross check on ChatGPT yields the following instances:

Self-referencing signatures in ancient letters were a way for the author to authenticate the document, demonstrate authority, or add a personal touch. Here are a few notable examples from different cultures:

1. Letters of Cicero

The Roman statesman Cicero often ended his letters with a personal note or signature. In some letters, he explicitly mentions writing with his own hand, such as in a letter to Atticus: “Ego enim has quidem, Attice, litteras scripsi meis manibus.” (“For these letters, Atticus, I wrote with my own hand.”)

2. Aramaic Letters from Elephantine

In the 5th century BCE, Jewish mercenaries stationed at Elephantine in Egypt sent letters back and forth, some of which include self-referencing signatures. For example, in a letter from the archive, one of the writers adds a line in his own hand, noting that he wrote the letter himself as a way to authenticate it.

3. Papyri from Oxyrhynchus

The Oxyrhynchus Papyri, a collection of Greek texts from Egypt, includes many personal letters where writers occasionally mention that they are writing with their own hand. For instance, one letter might end with the phrase “ἐγὼ αὐτός,” meaning “I myself,” to indicate the writer’s personal involvement in the composition.

4. Babylonian Cuneiform Tablets

In ancient Mesopotamia, some cuneiform letters on clay tablets were signed by the scribe or author. Although they might not have used the phrase “with my own hand” due to the nature of the script, they often included personal seals or mentions of the scribe’s name as a way of authentication.

5. Biblical Letters

As mentioned earlier, Paul’s letters in the New Testament include self-referencing signatures, such as in 2 Thessalonians 3:17, where he writes, “I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand,” to assure the recipients of the letter’s authenticity.

6. Egyptian Hieratic Letters

In some ancient Egyptian letters written in hieratic script, the writer might add a personal note or a self-referencing line at the end of the letter to indicate that the content was personally composed or approved by them, though this was less common than in Greek or Roman letters.

These examples show that self-referencing signatures were a widespread practice across various cultures and periods in antiquity, often serving as a way to authenticate or personalize a document.

Unless Paul expected the original single letter to “the Galatians” — presumably implying a very wide geographical area with multiple church assemblies — should be preserved for a reading (and visual inspection) in each church area, without it being copied, one must wonder what such a distinctive handwritten signature was likely to accomplish. Did not the author expect the letter to be copied by another hand? In the case of Cicero writing to Atticus I can understand such a signature. But in a letter to be circulated among a wide geographical distribution of churches? Not so much. Either way, such a signature cannot serve as decisive evidence for the historicity of its claimed author.

With respect to Carrier’s criticism of Detering, I may have missed the evidence for Detering seeming “to think self-referencing signatures commonly appear only in forgery“. If that has been a point in any of his arguments it is one I have not recently located — though I cannot say I have read everything or even most of his works, in English or German.

Carrier launches into the main body of his criticism with “The Prior Probability” rubric. Now I like Bayes’ theorem. It has a place in research of any kind, as the cover and title of Sharon McGrayne’s book on the theory demonstrates:

McGrayne, Sharon Bertsch. The Theory That Would Not Die: How Bayes’ Rule Cracked the Enigma Code, Hunted Down Russian Submarines, and Emerged Triumphant from Two Centuries of Controversy. New Haven Conn.: Yale University Press, 2012.

Don’t knock Bayes’ theorem.

But historians work with multiple tools, not just one. And much depends on the way we conceptualize the questions. Here is an example of what I mean:

Jesus belongs to several myth-heavy reference classes. He is a worshipped savior deity. He is a legendary culture hero. He is a Rank-Raglan hero. And he is a revelatory archangel (already as early as the earliest writings we have, granting the letters of Paul are such). All of those classes of person already start with a high prior probability of being mythical, because most members of them are mythical (or for culture heroes, about even). And these are beings all of whom are claimed to be historical, yet are usually in fact mythical. Just like Jesus.

(Carrier, The Historicity of Paul the Apostle)

Agreed. But we can make it even simpler. The Jesus that all historians have to work with is a literary Jesus — by definition. He is found in no other ancient place than literature or inscriptions or scribblings. The same, we must hasten to add, is true of any “historical” person — whether we are talking about Winston Churchill or Julius Caesar. What I am saying is that history is dead; it no longer exists; there is nothing there — except in written or other forms of recording. All our historical persons live only in our minds as we read the surviving records. Some of those imagined figures once had a historical reference figure who was real — but that reality now escapes us in its fullness and can only be reconstructed according to our “best lights” of imagination fuelled by inscriptions or writings or other evidence. The historian’s job, or at least one of them, is to study those texts and images to discover what led to their creation, whether it was a reality or a fiction.

Yes, Bayes’ theorem can help us answer the question of whether certain texts and images reflect a real or an imaginary figure as their source of inspiration. But there is a but. It begins with how we frame our question.

So let’s get back to Paul. In contrast to Jesus, Carrier writes:

Paul … falls into the class of ordinary persons who wrote letters and had effects on history. In ratio, most of such people claimed to exist, actually existed.

So in Carrier’s blog post of nearly ten years ago Jesus was presented as a miracle working, death-defying man-god — a clearly mythical figure — while Paul was, by strikingly mundane contrast, an “ordinary person who wrote letters and had effects on history”.

That starting point is where I have a problem.

No, Paul did not write letters like any “ordinary person”. An “ordinary person” reveals their personality or their ideas through letters. Contrast Paul as a letter writer as summed up by Albert Schweitzer:

The odd thing is that [Pauline scholars] write as if they understood what they were writing about. They do not feel compelled to admit that Paul’s statements taken by themselves are unintelligible, consist of pure paradoxes, and that the point that calls for examination is how far they are thought of by their author as having a real meaning, and could be understood in this light by his readers. They never call attention to the fact that the Apostle always becomes unintelligible just at the moment when he begins to explain something; never give a hint that while we hear the sound of his words the tune of his logic escapes us.

(cited in Hart, 131f)

Carrier referred to an article on Paul by James Tabor and it is worth returning to Tabor’s words in this context:

There are four different “Pauls” in the New Testament, not one, and each is quite distinct from the others. New Testament scholars today are generally agreed on this point.

(Tabor referencing F.C. Baur and more recent scholars such as Marcus Borg, John Dominic Crossan, and Jerome Murphy-O’Conner)

So which one is “the historical Paul”? We know that the author of Acts most certainly did not consider an “ordinary letter writer” to be the historical Paul.

I could fill several posts pulling out similar statements by scholars testifying either to the obscurity, or to the anything-but-ordinary “incomprehensible genius”, of a figure behind the letters.

Furthermore, on what basis can we assert that Paul “had effects on history”? Does not the evidence indicate that Paul’s letters had been somehow lost or forgotten while the churches grew, and that it was only from the mid second century that the letters were coming to light and being embraced. Christianity was evidently well established quite apart from any memory of Paul by the early second century. That sounds like Paul had little impact on history in the first century. Does not the evidence rather suggest that Paul was a product of second century history?

Another question comes to my mind here: Is it not somewhat hard to understand how a “brilliantly inconsistent” thinker could have had a serious and long-lasting impact on many other persons? A philosopher can be expected to write with a bullet directed point of view. Paul’s many contradictions, non sequiturs and mis-matches are sometimes said to be indications of his febrile genius or simply of an expansive and fluctuating intellect. Maybe that was the case. I wonder how many such persons have dramatic impacts on history, though. (I am open to being better informed here, so leave a comment if you can contribute to this point of discussion.)

Let Bayes be used to test the different options.

Carrier writes,

We can say several things about what are regarded as the six authentic letters of Paul . . .

First, they all cohere in style (idioms of vocabulary, connotation, grammar, punctuation, sentence length). The forged letters do not. They neither cohere with each other (except when produced as a unit, like the Seneca correspondence), nor with the style features of the authentic six. So one person did write those six (even if, as the letters openly state, they also reflected the views of a co-worker whom Paul sometimes names in each case).

No, they do not all cohere in style. I recently posted Harold Hoehner’s demonstration that Galatians has a style quite distinct from other letters attributed to Paul. Douglas Campbell in Framing Paul: An Epistolary Biography, reminds readers that Paul’s letters are…

characterized by a remarkable variation in argumentation, structure, and expression. Just Romans and 1 Corinthians, whose authenticity is usually uncontested, when placed side by side, seem to come not infrequently from overtly different places in conceptual terms. Meanwhile, adding only 2 Corinthians and Galatians to the comparison diversifies the overall situation further, creating a fundamental methodological challenge. How are interpreters to supply a unified account of various aspects of Paul himself as his texts strain in multiple directions?

The same scholar addresses the range of stylistic differences that have divided scholars over questions of authenticity of both whole letters and parts of letters. While Campbell seeks to resolve many of these arguments (including with a discussion on computer assisted stylometric analysis), his detailed work is at the same time a reminder that scholars have long been troubled by what they see as a lack of coherence and inconsistency of style in the letters of Paul. Paul may have used a vastly varying range of styles or maybe we should test the idea of multiple authors as the preferred explanation — either way we must explain the lack of coherence in style! It makes no difference to the question of historicity. But let’s adhere to the real state of the evidence.

Carrier’s next claim:

Second, they are stitched together from pieces of other letters. Each full letter named in the New Testament actually contains pieces of several letters, whose full content and original destination are now lost (see OHJ, p. 511). Sometimes so badly connected up as to be nearly unintelligible (e.g. the transition between 1 Cor. 8 and 9: OHJ, pp. 582-83). One does not forge letters that way. Which makes this another good indicator that these are not forgeries. Rather, someone tried to semi-reverently keep an original collection, but just the parts they liked, and assembled them together into a new whole in the most logical way they could. Their meddling after that was small and nitpicking, as the manuscript evidence shows, or blatant and obviously un-Pauline, as some of the interpolations made before 150 A.D. show.

Here Carrier is assuming that a historical Paul wrote the pieces of letters stitched together when in fact that is the question being raised. If we have a “Pauline school” of scribes, with different authors contributing individual perspectives to a whole, we then have a literary corpus not unlike some of the Old Testament works claiming to be by this or that prophet or by Moses himself. Collaborative efforts found ways to accommodate different perspectives up to a point, often stitched somewhat crudely together. This is arguably part of the catholicizing process that we see in other New Testament writings (especially Luke and Acts). So the evidence is open to multiple interpretations.

Next,

Third, they all make arguments and interact persuasively in a context where the Jewish temple was still standing and its cult operating. And in a context where views of Jesus and the Church that appear in the Gospels have not yet come to exist (not even to denounce or counter or rebut, much less use or co-opt or transform). This is very unlikely unless the letters were written before the year 66 A.D. (when the Jewish War began, an event wholly unknown to the author), and before the Gospels were written (which could be as early as 70 or 75 A.D. for Mark).

This is a common point of view but it is not a solid argument. The most basic principle of dating documents is to begin where we have the most certain evidence. That means it is sound method to begin with the middle of the second century for the indisputable existence of the Pauline letters. It is only in that century that we have independent confirmation of the existence of the letters. As we work back we rely more on hypothetical reconstructions. Mark “could be as early as 70” but it could equally be as late as the second century (cf arguments for the influence of Josephus and the abomination of desolation pointing to Hadrian’s time). There are passages in Romans and 1 Thessalonians that make a lot of sense in a context after (even well after) the destruction of the temple and end of its cult. So the historical context is not so clear cut. Similarly for the opponents of Paul that we read about in Galatians and the Corinthian correspondence. Scholars have had to assume the existence of various types of “heresies” for which we have no first century evidence. It is only when we come to the second century that we begin to read evidence for the existence of “false gospels” and some Christians attempting to impose circumcision on believers and the heated controversy over the teachings and authority of Paul vis a vis Jerusalem apostles. The second century does indeed look very much like a potential home for the letters of Paul. I elaborate a little on this point in addressing the next section of Carrier’s argument.

In Carrier’s view,

That third point is important, because the letters explicitly present themselves internally as having been written in the 50s A.D. . . . So the congruence of that fact with their content totally ignoring later existing doctrinal and tradition battles in the Church is very likely if the 50s is indeed when they were written.

I have to disagree. It is in the second century that we find debates over circumcision and whether the law should be obligatory on Christians (one example: Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho), over whether meat sacrificed to idols should be eaten, speaking in tongues (Montanism in Asia Minor from the 150s), questions of celibacy, the competitive status of Paul and the Twelve (Marcionism from the 140s). It is as if Paul’s letters (and the Jerusalem council of Acts 15) had all been forgotten somehow. But how convenient it was that in the midst of those competing claims we find the first evidence of Paul’s letters and, lo and behold, they happened to give decisive — “historical” — answers to such pressing second century questions.

Carrier continues:

Note that letters that don’t speak to a forger’s own time and circumstances, even covertly or obliquely or prophetically, run counter to a forger’s interests; the last thing forgers want to do is work hard to produce a document that is circumstantially obsolete before it is even published.

Circumcision and the requirements of the law were questions in Justin Martyr’s time (mid second century) and Justin had no knowledge of a first century apostolic council to bring to bear on the discussion. The Elchasite “heresy” originated in the early second century (the time of Trajan) and was so significant that it became influential in the subsequent rise of Manichaeism and Islam. The Elchasites taught a “gospel”, a “good news” that required circumcision for believers in Christ (who happened to be a great angel from heaven) and revered certain days and “elements of the world” (water, heaven, earth, bread, oil, salt, wind) — blithely unaware of Paul’s letter to the Galatians that sought to combat the distinctive features of that second century “heresy”.

So I do sympathize with Carrier when he writes:

I can’t even think of a single example of an ancient forger successfully ignoring all the central doctrinal and tradition disputes of their own day merely to produce a convincing period-accurate but thereby contemporarily-irrelevant document. The temptation to support or attack the then-going views (usually by fabricating early support for them, e.g. 2 Peter) is simply too strong, and in fact is the usual motivation for forging documents in the first place.

Very true. But I believe he is mistaken when he adds, “In short, the letters of Paul make no sense in the second century.” On the contrary, the second century is when we find the most relevance for Paul’s letters.

As far as I aware we have no evidence outside the letters themselves (and Acts) for these controversies existing in the first century.

Carrier:

Most Detering-style arguments are based on claiming hundreds of interpolations in these letters that conveniently and circularly support Detering’s conclusions, all based on a series of ad hoc assumptions about the second century history of the Church, when in fact almost everything we know about that is speculation, not established fact. The more assumptions you have to rely on, and the more conveniently complex they are, the lower the prior probability of your thesis. Speculation in, speculation out. Detering does not seem aware of this logical fact. He thus falls into the common trap of all bad historians: any theory you can gerrymander to fit all the evidence must be true. Because look how well it fits! Sorry. Illogical.

I don’t know the evidence on which Carrier bases the above characterization of Detering’s arguments. I have not seen arguments of his that are “based on claiming hundreds of interpolations . . . . and . . . . ad hoc assumptions about the second century history of the Church”. On the contrary, I have seen in Detering’s works an abundance of documented source material from the second, third and fourth centuries that address the state of “the Church”, with varying degrees of reliability, in the second century. I have translated a 270 page essay by Detering on this era and you can make the judgment for yourself. As for the 85 page book Falsified Paul a word search on “interpo” (for interpolation/interpolator…) yields only three hits. Nor should we overlook the undeniable fact that letters and biographies of Paul really were written by forgers in the second century. We have several of those forged letters in the New Testament (the Pastorals, for example). And we know for a fact that there were disputes about what was original in Paul’s letters, what had been cut out by opponents, and so forth. This situation is a fact that any historian must be aware of when examining the evidence.

It is true that the state of the evidence does not often allow a historian to do more than reconstruct “a more plausible scenario” for early Christianity. To that extent there is inevitably a degree of speculation in our reconstructions. The use of Bayes can help us refine the “most plausible” scenario. But when it comes to the question of “how/when/where Paul began”, whether as a historical figure behind the literature or as the literary figure itself, I think at least some “Detering style arguments” are well worth serious consideration.

Campbell, Douglas A. Framing Paul: An Epistolary Biography. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans Publishing, 2014.

Carrier, Richard. “The Historicity of Paul the Apostle.” Richard Carrier (blog), June 6, 2015. https://www.richardcarrier.info/archives/7643.

Detering, Hermann. “Die Gegner des Paulus – Judaistenthese 2. Jahrhundert – Radikalkritik,” July 4, 2018. http://radikalkritik.de/die-gegner-des-paulus-judaistenthese-2-jahrhundert. — Translation: The Opponents of Paul: A Second Century Judaizers Thesis

Detering, Hermann. The Falsified Paul: Early Christianity in the Twilight. Journal of Higher Criticism, 2003.

Tabor, James. “The Quest for the Historical Paul.” Biblical Archaeology Society, June 13, 2024. https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/people-in-the-bible/the-quest-for-the-historical-paul/

Hart, Patrick. A Prolegomenon to the Study of Paul. Leiden ; Boston: BRILL, 2020.

And with thanks to Chrissy Hansen’s articles alerting me to more works to read and ideas and criticisms to ponder, if not always to agree with.

2024-08-17

What Others have Written About Galatians — A Computer Analysis

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

by Neil Godfrey

Stylometry

Stylometry is the mathematical analysis of style in writing. Style can come in the form of word choice and vocabulary, spelling, punctuation, grammatical usage, and other factors. People have been looking at the style of the New Testament books for nearly as long as they’ve been in existence. Early Church Fathers, for example, debated over the style of Hebrews and if Paul was the author or not. However, our very limited ability to navigate Koine Greek meant we would have to find another approach to stylometry. This is where computerized stylometry comes into play.

Computerized stylometric analysis of the New Testament goes back to the 1980s with Anthony Kenny’s A Stylometric Study of the New Testament. . . .

Unsurprisingly, stylometry has come a long way since the 1980s. Recently, researchers have been able to be as precise as knowing whether Donald Trump wrote a given tweet or one of his interns did, and identifying J. K. Rowling as the person behind the pseudonym Robert Galbraith.

(Britt and Wingo, loc 2823, Kindle)

You can read more about the program (Stylo) used by Britt and Wingo on the New Testament and other early “Church Father” writings at

https://journal.r-project.org/archive/2016/RJ-2016-007/index.html
https://github.com/computationalstylistics
https://computationalstylistics.github.io/publications/stylo

So what did their analysis show about Galatians? Here is a composite image of the results of the program’s analysis of various works. On the left you can see that the program, Stylo, groups modern authors correctly. In the middle image we can see the Stylo results for various ancient authors such as Josephus, Origen, and others. Again, the results are what we would expect: noncontroversial works by Josephus are all grouped together, for example. The third image on the right covers results for some of the New Testament letters. The first two chapters of Galatians are closer in style to the letter of 1 Peter and part of 2 Corinthians. (2 Corinthians is widely thought by scholars to be a stitching together of several letters.)

Galatians

I quote here the commentary by B&W on Galatians. Marcion was the second century leader of a form of Christianity that claimed to have been the true followers of the apostle Paul and that the original twelve apostles had failed to carry on the true message of Jesus. Other “proto-orthodox” Christian leaders accused Marcion of falsifying the letters of Paul and argued that Paul and Peter and the other disciples were all united in their theological outlook. Marcion famously went to Rome with his gospel, bringing with him a large sum of money as a gift. In 144 CE the leaders of the church in Rome rejected Marcion’s gospel and his money.

Galatians is a heavily interpolated text, making a clearer stylometric read difficult. The first two chapters of Galatians seem to be a mishmash of writers attempting to explain Paul’s backstory, including striking parallels to Marcion’s personal story. Throughout the second half of the 2nd century and into the 3rd century there are varying accounts of what the letter said at the time, so we know it was still going through edits quite late. On the other hand, in line with what Tertullian says about Marcion “discovering” the letter, the content in chapters 3-6 tends to align more with Marcionite theology aside from verses scattered here and there which seem to contradict the bulk of the content. Such verses are likely from a later early church editor sometime in the process of the creation of our canonical version of the letter.

What seems most likely is that Galatians 3-6 represents the original content of the letter as drafted by someone in Marcion’s church. This was written prior to the falling out with the Roman church, so likely the late 130s or early 140s. Then, after Marcion is excommunicated, more biographical information is added into Paul primarily in chapters 1 and 2. Significant portions of the content in these chapters seem to reflect Marcion’s experiences, and they are likely projections of Marcion’s biographical information back onto Paul. This would explain why the authors look slightly different but still within the larger branch. It could be the same author at a different time or someone else writing a bit later. Eventually, other church leaders affiliated with the Roman church would add verses throughout the text to try to make Paul more acceptable to their theology.

Regardless, both sections of the text come up in the same general group as 1 Corinthians and the majority of the Romans segments. This indicates that no matter how many hands were initially involved in writing the letter, it was written around the same time and by the general same group as the other two letters. These three letters, along with parts of 2 Corinthians makeup whatever the core Paul character might have been.

(Britt and Wingo, loc 3454-71, Kindle)

Britt, Matthew, and Jaaron Wingo. Christ Before Jesus: Evidence for the Second-Century Origins of Jesus. Cooper & Samuels, 2024.

What Others have Written About Galatians – Harold Hoehner

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

by Neil Godfrey

Paul’s letter to the Galatians has “always” been understood to have been as certainly “Pauline” as his letters to the Romans and Corinthians. Other New Testament epistles (e.g. Ephesians, 1 and 2 Timothy) have fared less well in the authenticity stakes along with reasons explaining why someone other than Paul wrote them: difference in style and vocabulary, difference in themes and theological perspectives.

Most lay people like me would assume that scholars have rigorously applied the same criteria to all of the New Testament Pauline letters and on that basis have determined that Galatians passes all the tests to qualify as genuine.

But most lay people, me included, would be mistaken. One scholar has taken the trouble to apply the same standards to Galatians as are used to prove the inauthenticity of other epistles and finds that Galatians likewise falls short. Yet, no matter, he still believes Paul wrote Galatians. Criteria are no more than guidelines, after all. They are not immutable laws. Here is what he wrote (with my bolding):

If the criteria used to demonstrate non-Pauline authorship of the disputed Pauline letters were applied to the letter to the Galatians, many issues would arise that would indicate that Galatians should be considered as one of the disputed letters. . . . .

(1) Impersonal Nature: According to Gal. 1:1-2 this letter is addressed to the churches of Galatia. The first thing to notice is that he addresses “churches” which is not found elsewhere in Pauline literature. . . . . This is the only time he addressed churches in the plural. He could have used “to the saints who reside in Galatia,” which would be more traditional Pauline style.

If Paul wrote Galatians, it is interesting to notice that there are no personal greetings to individuals in the various churches of Galatia which seems strange since he had been with them only a short time ago (1:6, 13; 4:13-14).

(Hoefner, 153f)

Than point 2, Language and Style:

It is thought by many that Ephesians has too many unique words to be Pauline. Statistics shows that Ephesians has 2423 words with a total vocabulary of 527 words. When the data from Morgenthaler were put into a database, it is interesting to note that among the 527 words in Ephesians, 35 words appear only in Ephesians within the NT; and another 44 words appear in Ephesians not found elsewhere in Paul’s writings, but they appear elsewhere in the NT. Using the same method, among the 519 words in Galatians, 30 words occur only in Galatians within the NT; and another 55 words occur in Galatians not found elsewhere in Paul, but they occur elsewhere in the NT. . . .

Lincoln notes that Ephesians has not only distinct vocabulary but more importantly it has distinct combination of words or phrases (15 of them) “unique within the Pauline corpus and reflect this letter’s distinctive mode of expression.” Hence, it would indicate that it was not written by Paul. But there are even more expressions in Galatians which are unique within the Pauline corpus. . . . So many unique expressions (20 of them) in such a small book (8% shorter than Ephesians) would seem to argue for a non-Pauline authorship of Galatians.

Further, the frequent use of the prepositions έκ and ύπό in Galatians would point to a non-Pauline authorship of Galatians. . . . .

The style of Galatians differs from Paul’s other letters. In reading the Greek text one becomes aware of disjunctures of logic. For example, the curse in verses 1:8-9 has ended abruptly.24 Then the logic is hard to follow in verses 10-11. It seems that verses 10-11 really go back to verse 1 rather than verse 9. . . .

Curiously, there is no thanksgiving in Galatians. In all the other Pauline letters with the exception of the Pastoral epistles and possibly 2 Corinthians 1:11 (cf. Rom. 1:8; 1 Cor. 1:4,14; Eph. 1:16; Phil. 1:3; Col. 1:3; 1 Thess. 1:2; 2 Thess. 1:3; Philm. 4) Paul gives thanks for his addressees. Does this suggest that Galatians was written by the same hand as the Pastorals? . . . .

(p. 155, 161ff, )

Hoehner next turns to “historical considerations“. He contrasts the well-known discrepancies between the Acts narrative of Paul on the one hand and what we read in Galatians on the other. In the latter Paul is at pains to dissociate himself from the Jerusalem apostles. Hoehner reads the works as historical artefacts and believes Acts is to be preferred since its author, Luke, was a close companion of Paul and not likely to have been mistaken. The letter to the Galatians is also at direct odds with Jewish believers, another notion not found in Acts.

Next, there are “theological distinctions“:

First, there is in Galatians an emphasis on grace. The writer explains that if justification were through the law the death of Christ was of no purpose (2:21). Simply stated, the writer states that justification is on the basis of grace by means of faith (2:16-21). However, the writer also maintains that grace can be lost. . . . In the accepted Pauline literature there is no indication of falling from grace.

Second, along with grace there is in Galatians a significant emphasis on faith. The use of the noun “faith” in Galatians is almost twice as frequent per 1000 words (9.85) as in Romans (5.62) . . . .

Third, the law is another prominent subject in Galatians. . . . .

Finally, there is a great emphasis on the Spirit.

On the other hand, the absence of the parousia [return of Christ from heaven] in Galatians is worthy of note.

(p. 166f)

Hoehner notes that other scholars have seen evidence that the author of Galatians appears to have tried to pass himself off as Paul by borrowing from other Pauline epistles:

Gal 6:1 “he that is spiritual”

1 Cor 2:13 “These things also we speak, not in the words which man’s wisdom teacheth, but which the Holy Ghost teacheth, comparing spiritual things with spiritual”

Gal 6:6 “Let him who is taught the word share all good things with him who teaches”

1 Cor 9:7-14 & 2 Cor 11:7-10, 12, 13-18

Gal 6:5-8 ⁵For each one shall bear his own load.⁶Let him who is taught the word share in all good things with him who teaches.

⁷Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap. ⁸For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life.

2 Cor 9:6 “But this I say: He who soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly, and he who soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully.”

Conclusion:

There are more arguments that could be used to bolster the supposition that Paul did not write Galatians. However, space limitations curtail further development. Certainly not all the arguments are of equal weight. However, these among other arguments are used to demonstrate that the disputed letters were not written by Paul. But interestingly these same arguments are not applied to the Hauptbriefe [= main letters — Romans, 1& 2 Corinthians, Galatians]. Everyone assumes that they are the genuine letters. I remember discussing this over dinner with a NT professor from Germany who accepted pseudepigraphical works of Paul. I suggested that the same authorship criteria should be applied to Galatians as are applied to the disputed books of Paul. He concurred. Another well-known NT scholar sitting next to him said, “Don’t do that, I like Galatians.” I replied, “That is a good existential reason for supporting the Pauline authorship of Galatians.” He saw my point.

What is my actual position? Personally, I think we are using a double standard. We apply these rules to the disputed books of Paul but not to the Hauptbriefe. Those who have attempted to raise the question of authenticity of Galatians have been quickly dismissed and ignored. How dare anyone question the authenticity of Galatians! Furthermore, many arguments used against the authorship of the disputed letters are invalid. Yet, all too often NT scholars use these arguments to demonstrate inauthenticity of the disputed Pauline letters but do not use them on the undisputed letters. . . . Variations can be accounted for due to differences in content and differences in the character and needs of the recipients of the letter. Furthermore, it must be accepted that a creative person such as Paul is not sterile in his expressions; allowances must be made for development in his own thinking. These elements are evident even in his undisputed letters. In addition, it is rather limiting to determine Paul’s style and vocabulary based only on the writings that are canonical. If more of his writings were available, it would be easier to evaluate variances and consistency of vocabulary and style. Content, mood, and recipients all affect the vocabulary and style of an author whether it be in the first or the present century. In fact, repeating the same content in identical or nearly identical circumstances would still produce variances in vocabulary, style, and sentence length. Authors are not machines that duplicate these entities. . . .

Do I think Paul wrote Galatians? Yes. To be sure there are some difficulties, as mentioned above, but they are not insurmountable. May I say in closing that it is much easier to write a paper marshalling arguments for the inauthenticity of a biblical book than defending its authenticity. It is much easier to engage in destructive criticism than constructive criticism. When I do not accept authenticity of a work the burden of proof demanded of me is not as great.

(pp 168f)

I have several problems with the above conclusion. Yes, variations can be accounted for — up to a point. But though authors are “not machines” they are distinct personalities with their own unique, well, “personalities”, like fingerprints, and that includes distinctive modes of verbal expression. There is a limit to the extent to which I can change my style and manner of speaking — and writing. Changing writing style is easier, I suppose, if I take the time to study and work at rephrasing what I have written. But then the task of disguising myself would become more important than what I am wanting to express.

But why take the line that one finds arguments “not insurmountable”? That sounds like there is a preferred default position that should be defended as long as possible. Is that an objective position?

Notice, further, the assumption that in Paul we have a “creative person” who is presumably capable of writing in such a varied manner. Is not this a circular argument — assuming that style and themes that would otherwise indicate a different author can be found within the single person as large as Paul?

The other difficulty I have with the conclusion is the notion that testing a document for authenticity should be considered either “destructive” or “constructive” criticism. That smacks of ideological or apologetic bias. What is wrong, what is “destructive”, about questioning and determining the authenticity of a document? Should not the historian be interested in establishing “the truth” of a matter? Whether a document can be demonstrated to be written by X or Y is surely a good thing in its own right. If it means having to revise traditional beliefs, that is also surely a positive step.

Hoehner, Harold W. “Did Paul Write Galatians?” In History and Exegesis: New Testament Essays in Honor of Dr. E. Earle Ellis for His 80th Birthday, edited by Sang-Won Son, 150–69. New York: T & T Clark, 2006.

2024-08-10

Is there Evidence for Christianity before Constantine? (Or, Some Fundamentals of Doing History)

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

by Neil Godfrey

Is it necessary to have archaeological evidence to be reasonably confident that Christianity in some form existed prior to the fourth century? Some people think so, or at least they claim that the lack of archaeological evidence is reasonable grounds for doubting the existence of Christianity prior to Constantine. Let me explain why I believe that that view arises from a misunderstanding of the nature of evidence and how historical events are reconstructed by historians.

Now it is certainly true that there are clear cut cases where archaeological evidence does nullify written historical narratives. Archaeological evidence has demonstrated that the medieval stories of King Arthur, said to have performed his various exploits in late Roman times, are fictions. Similarly, archaeology has overthrown the historicity of the Genesis Patriarchs, the Exodus, the Israelite conquest of Canaan and the vast united kingdom of Israel under David and Solomon.

But what happens when we have no explicit archaeological evidence for a historical narrative? The archaeological evidence that specifically informs us about the conquests of Alexander the Great is virtually nonexistent. We have coins with Alexander’s bust stamped on them but they don’t tell us about his military adventures from Egypt to India. For that information we only have very late (Roman era) written accounts. Fortunately, however, the authors of those histories inform readers that they were drawing upon historical records composed by Alexander’s contemporaries. Further, given the widespread influence of Greek culture and Greek settlements throughout the Levant and Mesopotamia after Alexander’s time, we have good reason to believe that something dramatic happened to give rise to this new situation, and the surviving testimonies of historians who read writings of Alexander’s contemporaries are thus by and large made credible.

Again, we have no archaeological evidence from the fifth century BCE testifying to the historical existence of Plato. There are no surviving manuscripts of Plato’s works from his own time. But we do have scores of later manuscripts that are evidence for an activity of reasonably faithful copying of Plato’s dialogues. We can cross check these writings with manuscripts of copied works of other authors who were evidently contemporaries of Plato. So we again have reasonable grounds for believing in the historical existence and literary productivity of Plato.

But what is the difference between primary and secondary sources? It is on this question that I understand some doubts about pre-Constantinian Christianity arise.

Primary sources are those that clearly belong to the period being investigated. Secondary sources are from times later than the events or persons being studied. One biblical historian whom I have quoted in the past because he wrote at some length on this question is Niels Peter Lemche. Lemche takes readers ‘back to the basics’, in this case to the writings of the “father of modern history”, Leopold von Ranke.

When von Ranke and historians since his time are referring to an acknowledged contemporary source, they indicate first of all that kind of information which can be dated without problems. They also say that the source must physically belong to the period about which it is taken to be firsthand information. A slab of stone with an inscription found in situ, that is, where it was originally placed by the person who erected the stone to commemorate some event of his own day, is without doubt a primary and contemporary source. A description of the same item found in some ancient literary source is, however, not a contemporary source except in the case where it goes back to the same time as the stone inscription. Thus Livy’s description of the Second Punic War is not a contemporary source, as it is removed by about two hundred years from the days of Hannibal and Scipio. Suetonius’s life of August is not a primary source because it is about a hundred years later than the time of August. The Monumentum Ancyranum¹ can, however, be considered a firsthand piece of evidence from this period, since it relies on an official document from the days of August, and was placed on his temple in Ankara shortly after his death.

1. An inscription found on the Temple of August in Ankara, based on an official document authorized in the last year of August’s reign (C.E. 14), partly based, however, on an earlier source, the Res Gestae, and edited before it was published. The inscription has been known since 1555.

Lemche, Niels Peter. The Israelites in History and Tradition. London : Louisville, Ky: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998. p. 22

A Digression on Leopold von Ranke and Positivist History

Now the mention of Ranke has the unfortunate side effect of causing some readers to roll their eyes in despair while complaining, “But von Ranke was a positivist and that kind of history went out of fashion by the middle of the twentieth century.” To those who react that way (and there are a good many biblical scholars who are guilty) I must point out that “positivism” is too often confused with a preoccupation with “getting the facts right”, or with a history that is “all about ‘the facts'”. No, that’s a misunderstanding of positivism.

Positivism in history is an attempt to treat history as a science, as an effort to discover laws of historical processes, as summed up in an earlier reference if mine to Collingwood. The facts are still bedrock.

We have heard of “history wars” in recent times. Historians continue today to research to find “the actual facts” that lie behind various controversial questions. Was there a culpable genocide of Australian aborigines by white settlers throughout the nineteenth and into the early twentieth centuries? Facts and evidence lie at the very heart of that debate. Focus on “the facts” is still of first importance. Hewing to facts is not committing the sin of positivism.

But there is another way of understanding “positivist history” and in this second sense Ranke is sometimes upheld as an exemplar. The idea that history can be an objective reconstruction of what “exactly” happened in the past — a fact-based, “objective and true” portrayal of events, especially political events — is another form of history that is no longer practised, generally speaking. Nobody can escape bias of some kind; everybody necessarily perceives events through a particular point of view. Nor are political and military events the totality of human experience: history has branched out into investigating economic, social, cultural, family and personal events.

As for being “completely objective”, the American Civil War is viewed by some historians as a conflict over states rights; by other historians as a conflict over slavery. That does not mean that there is no absolute truth to the question but it does remind us that all events are perceived through our preconceptions and biases. The historian ideally will be aware of their biases and make allowances for them in their research and presentation of their narrative. To support one point of view against another a historian will seek to present more factual evidence on which their point of view rests.

As for Ranke, he is perhaps best known for his famous phrase . . .

To history has been given the function of judging the past, of instructing men for the profit of future years. The present attempt does not aspire to such a lofty undertaking. It merely wants to show how it essentially was (wie es eigentlich gewesen).

From Preface to the First Edition of Histories of the Latin and Germanic Peoples (October 1824), in: Ranke, Leopold von. The Theory and Practice of History. New York, N.Y: Irvington Publishers, 1983. p. 86

Some critics translate the phrase as “how it actually was” and thus present a more “positivist” view of Ranke than others would necessarily warrant.

Today historians are more aware of the inevitable bias or subjectivity of a “point of view” when examining events, and of the impossibility of fully objectively recreating a wholly true account of a past event, but searching out and understanding “the facts” is still paramount in most cases.

Photos of my team teachers from an old school album

In high school I was introduced to history by a couple of teachers who were pioneering a new kind of history-teaching, J. H. Allsopp and H. R. Cowie, authors of the two-volume text Challenge and Response. Students were immersed in a questioning-and-research approach to each historical period, beginning with the French Revolution. The springboard question was derived from the famous historian Arnold Toynbee’s thesis that historical change follows a “law” of civilizations responding to specific challenges. As students we were challenged by a positivist thesis (not that we knew anything about the term ‘positivism’ in those high school years) and taught to question. That was anything but a dry fact-based study of history. When we came to studying Marxism we were introduced to another positivist form of history, a grossly simplified form of Hegel’s theory that a thesis produces an antithesis and out of the ensuing clash of these opposites emerges a synthesis . . . . which in turn becomes a new thesis, and so on. (Hence the theory that the owners of production produce a working class and the resulting clash leads to a classless society.) Especially since the later 1960s historical studies in universities have moved away from the idea that through history historians can discover laws of human behaviour. Historical positivism is “past history” now.

The point is this: Ranke’s fundamental principle is that the facts must first and foremost be determined by sources known to be from the actual time and place of the events being investigated:

But from what sources could this be newly investigated? The foundations of the present writing, the origins of its subject matter, are memoirs, diaries, letters, reports from embassies, and original narratives of eyewitnesses. Other writings were considered only when they seemed either to have been immediately deduced from the former or to equal them through some kind of original information.

Ranke, Leopold von. The Theory and Practice of History. New York, N.Y: Irvington Publishers, 1983. p. 86

That principle is still the foundation of most historical research today. (I am bypassing here discussions relating to postmodernist theories about knowledge and adhering to the same general principles as are applicable in common everyday discourse and courts of law with respect to the value we ascribe to testimonies of various kinds — hearsay, recorded, witnessed, etc.)

Back to the Question: Evidence for Pre-Constantinian Christianity

One proponent of the view that Christianity as we understand the term was a fourth century invention has proposed that historical evidence can be divided into two types:

Primary evidence — which means archaeological evidence, or “real knowledge” from the time in question;
Secondary evidence — which survives only in manuscripts physically dated long after Constantine’s time and is therefore “hypothetical” knowledge”.

Here is where I believe we are getting confused with terminology.

To begin with, notice that in the preceding section we saw that evidence is divided into two kinds:

that which can be dated without problems to the time or event under investigatio
that which is dated after that event.

It is not true that the ONLY kind of evidence that can be dated “without problems to the time or event under investigation” is archaeological evidence. As we saw above, some manuscripts dated long after the time of Alexander the Great or Plato contain information that can be dated “without problems” to the times of Alexander the Great and Plato. Our manuscript evidence is testimony to multiple efforts to copy those texts through the ages.

To contradict this point and argue that the texts were invented in late antiquity or the early middle ages is to meet the “conspiracy theory” fallacy.

Yes, it is theoretically possible that all witnesses, and all knowing associates of such witnesses, who were in any way involved in a cover-up or falsification of the historical record, such as (let’s say) the moon landing, conspired to maintain the public fiction. But life experience leads me to think that such a coherently successful accomplishment among diverse witnesses (or “non-witnesses”) is unlikely. Unless evidence can be produced that suggests that such a widespread agreement across time to falsify the historical record, or data/sources upon which the historical account is produced can be shown to have been fraudulently manipulated, then I think it is reasonable to believe in the existence of Plato as an author of dialogs and in the conquering actions of Alexander the Great.

So where does that leave the evidence for the existence of pre-fourth century Christianity?

Let’s take the Gospel of Mark. We first discover an explicit reference to this work in the writings of Irenaeus, a late second century “church father”. Those who propose a post Constantine origin for this gospel also propose a post Constantine date for the writings attributed to Irenaeus. If we were to accept such an argument we would need to be mindful of all the writings of Irenaeus and imagine a situation where they would be manufactured for nefarious purposes to belong to a time much earlier than that in which they were really written. When one looks at the totality of those writings one would surely conclude that an awful lot of effort was spent on producing such a fraud. But let’s keep it simple and confine ourselves to the Gospel of Mark.

A literary analysis of the Gospel of Mark indicates that it fits well with the first and second Jewish wars (66-70 and 135 CE). Its “little apocalypse” chapter has been dated to either war. Its theological outlook is inconsistent with the Christology of later periods. The same gospel denigrates Peter and the twelve disciples as faithless failures; it presents a Jesus who appears to have become a “son of God” at the moment of his baptism. It is unlikely in the extreme that a fourth century forger who believed in the exaltation of the Twelve Apostles and the pre-existence and inherent divinity of Christ would have written such a gospel. Other gospels followed that evidently sought to “correct” Mark’s flaws.

I think it is safe to conclude that the widely varying presentations of Jesus and the apostles (including Paul) would not have been produced by a single-minded program to make Christianity appear older (back into the second or first centuries) than it actually was. Is it really likely that such a program produced gospels that contradicted the later orthodox christology and the revered place of the apostles and then followed up by composing other gospels that found different ways to correct those evidently earlier efforts?

Dating ancient texts

Now it is certainly not valid to assume that a historical narrative that we read in a text is “true”. We all know the difference between historical fiction and real history and we look for signs that enable us to distinguish the two.

However, to continue with our Gospel of Mark example, we find in this gospel prominent allusions to false christs, crucifixion, destruction of the temple, and so forth — all of which can be found to match the events of the Jewish war from the late first century and right through the time of Trajan and Jewish messianic rebellions and on to the events of the final rebellion under Bar Kochba in the 130s CE. One may well imagine a later author fabricating a text to appear as if it were written in that period, but how could one imagine the same author presenting a view of both Jesus and the apostles that was contradicted by the established church of a much later time?

In this case we find the evidence strongest for a time and place that did not highly esteem the apostles and did not place a strong emphasis on the pre-existent “sonship” of Jesus or the importance of his resurrection appearances. (The latter are absent in the Gospel of Mark.)

The Gospel of Mark is evidently a product of pre-fourth century conditions when Jesus could be made a son of God at his baptism and when the disciples could be depicted as failures. It now belongs to the orthodox canon but it is made safe for orthodoxy by being placed alongside other gospels that “corrected” Mark’s apparent failings.

Real versus Theoretical Knowledge?

I have heard it said that archaeology is “real” evidence and later texts are “theoretical” evidence — implying that evidence derived from stones is superior to that derived from texts found on much later surviving manuscripts.

This is a false dichotomy.

A stone inscription speaking of a person’s exploits tells me nothing unless I first interpret it. Is the person described really a historical person or are they a false image of someone else pretending to be greater than they in fact were? Are the inscribed exploits true or a lie or something in between? Is the inscription a fictional propaganda employing contemporary literary tropes? Note how even a stone inscription must be first “interpreted” before it can be understood:

As with the Hammurapi, Sargon and Idrimi monuments, it is more than style and form that establish the Active qualities of Mesha’s inscription. Literary metaphor also lies behind the use of the name Omri itself. Omri ‘dwelling in Moab’ is not a person doing anything in Transjordan, but an eponym, a literary personification of Israel’s political power and presence. It is clear that the reference to Omri in the Mesha stele is literary, not historical.

Thompson, Thomas L. The Mythic Past: Biblical Archaeology and the Myth of Israel. New York: Basic Books, 1999. p. 13

You may disagree with Thompson’s interpretation but whatever your view you will need to justify your alternative reading – as Thompson does his. Either way, it should be clear that a stone inscription does not automatically give us “pure historical fact”: stone inscriptions need to be interpreted as much as does the text of a manuscript. We cannot say that the former source gives us “real” knowledge while the latter gives us “theoretical” knowledge. Both kinds of data need to be tested for provenance and original meaning.

The information gleaned from a stone inscription is just as much a product of interpretation as is the information we glean from a late surviving manuscript.

Both must be subject to analysis and interpretation before we think we know what they have to tell us.

It is a fallacy to say that we have no “real” knowledge about Christianity prior to the fourth century because we have no pre-fourth century archaeological evidence for Christianity while all our text-based knowledge is “only theoretical”.

What we have, most fundamentally, is raw data. Raw data must be interpreted. It tells us nothing apart from our interpretation of it. Raw data can come from stone monuments and manuscripts alike, whatever their date. (I could cover all of this argument in many pages of text but am hoping for now that the above context makes my point clear.)

Conclusion

In fact I believe we do have archaeological evidence for Christianity before Constantine but in this post I am addressing the claim that manuscript evidence is somehow less “real” than archaeological evidence.

My argument is that all “historical knowledge” is at some level “theoretical” but that fact does not make it any less “real” or “valid” at the same time. I could argue on philosophical and epistemological grounds that newspaper reports and diaries from relevant persons in the last century do not “prove” that Australian aborigines were displaced wholesale, but that would not change the reality of the interpreted evidence from a layman’s — or courtroom juror’s — perspective.

The claim that all of our evidence for Christianity physically post dates the time of Constantine and was actually the creation of scribes from that era and later falls for the same reason other conspiracy theories fall. Yes, of course Christian scribes were “biased” and yes, we do have some evidence that they doctored manuscripts. At the same time, we also have evidence that they preserved and copied texts that were not doctrinally consistent with fourth century orthodoxy. They found ways to preserve “unorthodox” writings without denying their own faith.

Archaeological evidence, when tested, can be securely dated to a particular time in question but the “truth” or otherwise of its inscriptions is just as “real” as are the “truths or otherwise” of text written in ink on manuscripts. All data needs to be tested for authenticity, provenance, context and interpreted. The absence of archaeological evidence from the fifth century BCE testifying to the existence a dialog-writing Plato does not mean our knowledge of Plato is “theoretical” as distinct from “real”, and the same applies to the existence of gospels, epistles and other Christian literature prior to the time of Constantine.

2024-07-24

What Others have Written About Galatians (and Christian Origins) – Rudolf Steck

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

by Neil Godfrey

A book that concludes to assign the Epistle to the Galatians and the other main Pauline epistles to the second century requires, more than any other, a few words of introduction. Not that I believe that any preliminary remarks can remove the impression of bewilderment that such an undertaking must initially make on any theological reader, regardless of their direction. However, it is important to me to leave no doubt about the sincerity of my intention, and I hope to achieve this by explaining how I arrived at my view. (Steck’s opening words – translated – of Der Galaterbrief nach seiner Echtheit untersucht nebst kritischen bemerkungen zu den Paulinischen Hauptbriefen, or The Epistle to the Galatians examined for its authenticity along with critical remarks on the main Pauline letters, published in 1888.)

Steck described his university years and his arrival at the firm conclusion that the four main Pauline epistles (Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians and Galatians) expressed the purest thought of earliest Christianity. He had heard of the existence of sceptical views that discounted the authenticity of those letters but ….. in his own (translated) words:

Although I had heard doubts about the authenticity of these epistles, I only received the impression that there were also such oddballs among theologians who had to doubt even the sunniest clarity, and Bruno Bauer appeared to me as an unscientific tendentious writer whose audacity had not shied away from an attack on these most genuine monuments of early Christianity.

Bruno Bauer had such an unsavoury reputation that it took him some time before he was eventually led by circuitous routes to read the words of the devil for himself, and once he had done so….

Only then did I turn to Bruno Bauer’s critique of the Pauline epistles from 1852, which I had previously only known through references. Despite its facile argumentation and often offensive presentation to theological ears, I found in it much that was accurate and previously unnoticed, solidifying my view until it became a full conviction.

A few pages into his first chapter Steck added:

The criticism of Bruno Bauer has so far not been refuted by competent scholars, and although it is of such a nature that no one likes to deal with it, scientific necessity demands a closer examination, even if only to refute it thoroughly.

Ignored, but not refuted. A situation that has by and large continued through to today, unless I am mistaken.

I copy here a translation of Steck’s concluding statement of the findings of the detailed analysis of the preceding five chapters. The formatting is mine:

Consequently, the Epistle to the Galatians must be regarded as

a literary product not of Paul himself, but of the Pauline school,

presupposing the existence of the Epistle to the Romans and the two Epistles to the Corinthians.

Its dependency on these predecessors, particularly on the former, has become evident from a closer consideration of many individual passages, leaving little room for doubt. Of course, if the matter were merely that our epistle repeatedly contains expressions, phrases, entire sentences found in other major Pauline epistles, little would be proven. That can happen and, in itself, is not a sign of inauthenticity. It is quite natural for the same writer to use the same thoughts and sometimes expressions repeatedly as opportunities arise. . . . .

However, the matter is not that simple. The passages in our letter that prompted us to look for parallels in other letters were those

where the context was lacking,

where thought and expression did not seem quite natural,

where one had to ask whether the previous explanations had all remained forced and contrived. . . .

(pp 147f)

In short, obscurities of argument and puzzling loose ends in Galatians are clarified only when we turn (mostly) to Paul’s letter to the Romans. The author of Galatians presupposed a knowledge of the epistle sent to Rome. In Steck’s view, whoever wrote Galatians had either earlier written or certainly read and embraced the Romans tract and the two letters to the Corinthians. The corollary here is that the author further assumes that his primary audience of Galatians will understand his various points because they, too, are familiar with the other epistles. In the earlier chapters of Galatians where “Paul” sets out historical details from the time of his conversion to the time of his meeting with apostles in Jerusalem, the author was seeking to rebut the account in the Acts of the Apostles.

. . . [The author] addresses this letter as the purest expression of his spirit and opinion to the erring communities, a letter from which one should clearly recognize the Apostle’s actual stance towards Judaism. The letter would thus have been written not only long after the fall of the Jewish people and state (4:25) but also after the Acts of the Apostles. Since the latter writing cannot have originated before the beginning of the second century, as its acquaintance with Josephus proves for the Lucan writings in general, the Epistle to the Galatians is to be placed under the reign of Hadrian, and specifically after 120 AD.

(p. 148)

But how could it be so?

This view will undoubtedly be challenged by asserting that it claims the impossible. A letter as fresh and lively as the Epistle to the Galatians bears the stamp of the Pauline spirit too clearly for it to have been composed by a mere imitator. It is a work of a single cast and does not at all give the impression of a patchwork based on other letters. This objection is very understandable, and the perspective on the Epistle to the Galatians that underlies it was also long shared by the author.

. . . . One does not necessarily need to see in him a mere imitator; he could be a Pauline follower with an independent, sharply defined intellectual individuality who knows how to use the catchphrases of early Paulinism in a new, spirited way and to combine individual elements into a new whole. In such questions, one easily forgets that a letter merely attributed to Paul does not necessarily have to be the miserable work of an unoriginal imitator. If a significant, intellectually powerful personality stands behind it, the work will also bear its stamp despite the partial reliance on earlier material.

(p. 150)

In the second part of the book Steck examines all four major Pauline letters since if Galatians is not by Paul then the argument infers that the others are likewise not by a mid-first century author. To begin with, he analyzes the shared material among these four and demonstrates that it is Galatians that drew upon the others, and that Galatians was the last written and Romans the first. Steck then examines the evidence for the Pauline works drawing upon canonical gospel material. The evidence there is not overwhelmingly strong but in Steck’s view it is suggestive. Next, Steck sets forth the evidence for these letters drawing upon a knowledge of the works of pseudepigraphical writings (in particular the late first century/early second century Fourth Book of Ezra), and Philo and Seneca. If we accept the case for the epistles drawing on a knowledge of these works then we must date them to the very late first century at the earliest. Other arguments include overviews of patristic references to the Pauline writings — including the letters of Clement and Barnabas, the Shepherd of Hermas, the Didache, Justin Martyr, Marcion and other works.

We may even add a knowledge of the Ascension of Isaiah — courtesy of Roger Parvus’s studies.

I may post some of Steck’s evidence in detail in future posts but right now I am still in the process of digesting it all. I need more time to reflect.

I was intrigued to find one part of Steck’s thought running parallel with a certain notion of Christian origins that I had been exploring. Steck confronts the problem of finding an early gentile Christianity in Rome that existed quite independently from the synagogue.

Judaism and Christianity existed entirely separately in Rome at that time. This could not be the case if Roman Christianity had emerged from the synagogue. Thus, we are led to assume that Christianity in Rome emerged very early and somewhat autochthonously. The exclusive use of the Greek language in the Roman community until deep into the second century suggests that the roots of the oldest Roman Christian community lie not in the Jewish, but in the Greek colony of Rome. From this stratum of the population, the Christian doctrine gathered a circle around itself, as indicated in the 16th chapter of Romans, consisting largely of slaves but interspersed with elements reaching into the higher and highest social strata. The “Roman Hellenism,” elevated beyond the ordinary thoughts and pursuits of paganism by the advanced Platonic philosophy represented by Seneca in the Roman capital, had become acquainted with the religious teachings of refined Judaism through the Alexandrian Bible and the writings of Philo. With or without the form of proselytism, it sympathized with Jewish monotheism and its purer moral teachings. This environment became the cradle of the first Christian community in the world’s capital. Just as the Oriental cults of all kinds found fertile ground in Rome—where, according to Tacitus’s bitter expression, “all atrocious and shameful things from everywhere flow together and are celebrated”—so too did Rome become a receptive field for the higher aspirations emanating from philosophy. These aspirations aimed to elevate humanity’s moral consciousness and bring the good and the beautiful closer to realization. Among the driving forces of this new outlook was the belief in the personal realization of the ideal in a living bearer of that ideal. This was parallel to the widespread contemporary religious belief in a helping and saving Savior, as propagated by the cults of Serapis and Asclepius. This belief naturally drew new strength and definition from the messianic prophecies during the study of the Old Testament. Everything was thus prepared, only waiting for the trigger to initiate the realization of these tendencies in a specific community.

(p. 377)

For Steck, that trigger was “the news of the Messiah’s appearance in the East”. (I wonder if a stronger case can be made for the trigger being related to the destruction of “Judaism’s” centre in the 66-70 CE war.)

This trigger would have been the news of the Messiah’s appearance in the East. Here, disregarding chronology, we can almost fully adopt the depiction given at the beginning of the Clementine Homilies. Clement, who had spent his youth in chastity and moderation, had fallen into deep sorrow over the tormenting questions about the origin and destiny of the world and humanity. He turned to philosophy but found no certainty in the conflicting teachings, especially regarding life after death. In this doubtful state, he became aware of news that reached Rome under Emperor Tiberius one spring and kept growing: as if an angel of God were traveling through the world, and God’s plan could no longer remain hidden, the news was that someone had risen in Judea and was preaching the eternal kingdom of God to the Jews, confirming his mission with signs and wonders. This news spread more and more, and already assemblies (συστήματα) were eagerly discussing who the newcomer was and what he wanted. In the autumn of the same year, an unknown man publicly proclaimed: “Men of Rome, hear, the Son of God has appeared in Judea and preaches eternal life to all who are willing to listen, if they act according to the will of the Father who sent him,” and so on. This account in the Clementine romance probably contains more truth than is generally attributed to it. This or a similar scenario must have occurred in the formation of the first Roman Christian community. The news of the Messiah’s appearance spread from the East, found fertile ground in the circles in Rome who were alienated from the world and pursued philosophical ideals, and formed a small Christian community from the Roman population. To this, individuals from the Jewish colony (like Aquila and Priscilla in Acts 18:2) and proselytes may have joined, without affecting the Gentile Christian character of the community. Thus, it would be somewhat like the Reformation—a dual origin of the new religious principle. On one hand, it arose in Palestine through the messianic movement originating from Jesus and his disciples. On the other hand, it was prepared by the development of pagan philosophy and religion in Rome to such an extent that the mere news of the Messiah’s appearance sufficed to bring it to life in the world capital, where it naturally took on a unique character from the beginning and retained it for a long time.

(pp 377ff)

I have been trying to think through how a similar scenario among Jews/Judeans was preparing the way for Christianity but Steck has added a balance to that perspective by reminding us of the evidence for the earliest Christian community in Rome being distinctively gentile in origin. There is certainly much to think through.

Even if this view can only initially present itself as a hypothesis, it is surely worthy of closer examination. At the very least, it easily explains how the Christian community in Rome, at the time Paul arrived, could already be an established and well-founded one, yet not be connected with the Jewish colony there. It then also explains the distinctly Gentile Christian character of the Roman Christian community from the outset, as assumed by the Epistle to the Romans and particularly evidenced by the findings in the catacombs. Moreover, this view sheds new light on the further development of Christianity. If Christianity emerged simultaneously in a dual form—one Jewish Christian and the other Gentile Christian—then this separate existence of the two centers, Jerusalem and Rome, could persist for a time. Eventually, however, as the Christian church continued to grow and unify, these two halves had to merge into one cohesive entity. The integration of the two halves, the Eastern and the Western, could not occur without a transformation process affecting both. The Jewish Christian communities of the East had to abandon their traditions, insofar as these had not already been disrupted by Paul’s activities, for their Christianity to be feasible within the greater church. Conversely, the Gentile Christian communities of the West had to accept certain customs and practices carried over from Judaism if they wished to join the closer fellowship with those communities. Notably, they could not reject a lifestyle aligned with the essential demands of Judaism, as prescribed for proselytes. This process was prefigured by Paul’s historical activities, which first established the connection between the two halves of the Christian population. Accordingly, the process could not unfold easily or naturally; resistance was inevitable on both sides, potentially leading to extremes that pushed the opposition to its peak. This painful but beneficial process of integration is testified by the literature of early Christianity, and specifically, the Pauline letters are symptomatic expressions of the resistance from the more liberal faction in the Roman community against attempts to Judaize them. From the Epistle to the Romans to the Epistle to the Galatians, this conflict escalates to its highest point before subsiding as the extreme demands of the Judaizers fail to prevail, while moderate ones gain acceptance.

(pp 379f)

Steck, Rudolf. Der Galaterbrief Nach Seiner Echtheit Untersucht Nebst Kritischen Bemerkungen Zu Den Paulinischen Hauptbriefen. Berlin: G. Reimer, 1888. http://archive.org/details/dergalaterbriefn0000stec.

English translation is available at The Epistle to the Galatians examined for its authenticity along with critical remarks on the main Pauline letters [PDF – 5 MB, on my vridar.info page]

2024-07-17

What Others have Written About Galatians – Alfred Loisy

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

by Neil Godfrey

(La question n’est obscurcie que par le préjugé, très respectable, et que nous respectons infiniment, des interprètes. p.44)

The influential French theologian who was excommunicated by the Pope for his views, Alfred Loisy, concluded that there were two different “Pauls” authoring the main letters attributed to him. The reason Paul’s letters are generally considered “hard to understand” is because they intertwine two incompatible messages of the Christian faith. Loisy acknowledges that scholars of his day — as they still do today — attribute the contradictions to the fervid mind of an enthusiastic genius. But he also points out that if contradictory notions were indeed birthed in the one mind then that one mind would find a way to reconcile them before setting them down in writing.

Two theories of salvation:

The first message is simple, coherent, and supported by a typical rabbinical exegesis of the Jewish Scriptures. All Christians are promised entry into the coming Kingdom of God if they believe that Jesus was raised from the dead and was soon to come again to establish the kingdom of God. Just as God had promised Abraham that his seed (understood by Paul to refer to Christ) would inherit the earth, and just as Abraham believed God, so all who believed in Christ would be made immortal with Abraham in Christ’s kingdom. This message was grounded in a subtle interpretation of the Scriptures: e.g. interpreting the “seed” of Abraham as the single person of Christ despite its otherwise original meaning to refer to multiple descendants. Salvation comes from faith in the promise that God made to Abraham for his believing offspring. Loisy calls this the “eschatological” gospel message. Here the Law in the “Old Testament” is a blessing but not obligatory on those who believe, just as Abraham was justified by his trust in God’s promise before he was circumcised.

The second message was mystical. Abraham did not feature at all. Instead, we begin with Adam who sinned and thereby consigned all of humanity to a state of sinfulness. At the appointed time a “second Adam” came, that is, Christ, who lived a perfect life, died as a sacrifice to make amends for humanity’s sin, and was resurrected, so that all who likewise “died” with him (in the ritual of baptism) and believed in him would also “live anew” with Christ in them — so undoing the sin of Adam and offering salvation to all. Salvation comes from faith that Christ has redeemed the believer from sin. In this mystical gospel the Law found in the “Old Testament” is a curse.

For Loisy, the original letters expressed the simple and coherent eschatological message of salvation. At some point another hand had attempted to qualify and redirect that message by adding the message of the mystical gospel. This second hand preceded that of the famous arch “heretic” of the second century, Marcion. A few years ago I had asked Roger Parvus to post his investigations into the origins of the Pauline epistles on this blog and he, influenced by Loisy, also concluded that the changes to the letters were made before Marcion. (Contrast the view of Loisy’s contemporary, Joseph Turmel — discussed earlier — who saw Marcion as the primary redactor of Paul’s letters.)

Two theories of salvation are revealed to us in the body of the Epistle to the Romans; however, only one of the two authors can be easily defined. This author evokes with a profound sense of his Israelite origin and his love for his people the promise made to Abraham, which currently benefits both Gentiles and Jews. Regarding the mystical personality that opposes Paul of the eschatological theory or assimilates him to transform him into the unique apostle of the mystery, we have found barely any trace. It seems that the mystical theory initially existed independently and was later adjusted as a corrective to the eschatological theory by a disciple of its first author. However, a mystical Paul appears elsewhere, notably in the Epistle to the Galatians and in some main parts of the two Epistles to the Corinthians, where he not only titles himself the apostle of the mystery but also proclaims himself the unique apostle of this mystery of salvation, which would be the only true Gospel. (Loisy, 33 — translation)

If Loisy’s analysis is correct and the early epistles of Paul that we have in our Bibles are the product of at least two hands, each arguing for a different gospel or message of salvation, then the following implications follow for our reading of the first chapters of Galatians.

The Paul who wrote the first draft of the letters was teaching the common message being spread by other apostles of the earliest “Christian church”. However, the mystic Paul who deemed himself to be the uniquely called apostle of the only true gospel and owed nothing to any of the other leaders of the Jesus followers wrote in Galatians 1:

¹¹I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel I preached is not of human origin. ¹² I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ. . . .

¹⁵But when God, who set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, was pleased ¹⁶to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, my immediate response was not to consult any human being. ¹⁷I did not go up to Jerusalem to see those who were apostles before I was, but I went into Arabia. Later I returned to Damascus.

A “proto-orthodox” devotee of Paul saw the danger of allowing that passage to stand without qualification so he added — with a strident declaration that he was not lying! — the following words to remind readers that Paul was indeed submissive to, or at least on a par with, the other apostles, just as we read in Acts:

¹⁸Then after three years, I went up to Jerusalem to get acquainted with Cephas and stayed with him fifteen days. ¹⁹I saw none of the other apostles—only James, the Lord’s brother. ²⁰I assure you before God that what I am writing you is no lie.

The second Galatians chapter as we have it is another mix of two Pauline accounts. In Acts 15, which Loisy sees as essentially historical on this point, Paul was sent to Jerusalem with others to discuss and decide whether gentile converts should be circumcised. The “mystical Paul”, on the other hand, added to the letter to the Galatians that he did not go to Jerusalem at the behest of others but went up because of a divine revelation. The same mystical Paul forgot that the only reason for the Jerusalem meeting was to nut out the question of circumcision and immediately made a point, otherwise inappropriately, that he “presented his gospel” to the Jerusalem leaders. A more “historical Paul” added that he did so as an act of acknowledgement of the authority of the Jerusalem apostles. Galatians 2:

¹Then after fourteen years, I went up again to Jerusalem, this time with Barnabas. I took Titus along also. ²I went in response to a revelation and, meeting privately with those esteemed as leaders, I presented to them the gospel that I preach among the Gentiles. I wanted to be sure I was not running and had not been running my race in vain. ³Yet not even Titus, who was with me, was compelled to be circumcised, even though he was a Greek. ⁴This matter arose because some false believers had infiltrated our ranks to spy on the freedom we have in Christ Jesus and to make us slaves. ⁵We did not give in to them for a moment, so that the truth of the gospel might be preserved for you.

⁶As for those who were held in high esteem—whatever they were makes no difference to me; God does not show favoritism—they added nothing to my message. ⁷On the contrary, they recognized that I had been entrusted with the task of preaching the gospel to the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been to the circumcised. ⁸For God, who was at work in Peter as an apostle to the circumcised, was also at work in me as an apostle to the Gentiles. ⁹James, Cephas and John, those esteemed as pillars, gave me and Barnabas the right hand of fellowship when they recognized the grace given to me. They agreed that we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the circumcised.

The mystical Paul has added here a quite unrealistic scenario. It would have been quite impossible for such a neat division of audiences between Cephas/Peter and Paul. The gospel was always preached initially to both Jews and gentile attendees in the synagogues. Loisy adds that at the time of the Jerusalem council (mid 40s CE) there were no “super apostles”. That status was a later (second century) memory projected back into earlier times.

What is not natural, what is historically inconceivable, what is a pure fiction imagined long after the origins, is the very division of humanity to be converted. Never, during his lifetime, was Paul the unique Apostle, charged by Christ, to provide for the evangelization of the Gentiles. Never did Peter and the Twelve consider themselves the sole authorized missionaries to Judaism, especially since most of them probably never were missionaries. The conditions of Christian preaching in apostolic times are well known: the Gospel was not first offered to the pagan world as such; it could not be, it was first offered within the Jewish world of the Dispersion; but the Christian preaching reached, at the same time as the Jews, the pagan clientele of the synagogues, the proselytes and half-proselytes that the synagogues gathered around them throughout the Roman Empire. It is certain, not only from the consistent account in Acts but also from the Epistles as they echo Paul’s personal ministry, that he, in every locality where he brought the Gospel, spoke first in the synagogues, and consequently addressed the Jews, and when he was no longer tolerated in the synagogues, settled nearby, continuing to attract both Jews and proselytes indiscriminately. In Jerusalem in 44, there could not have been a division of the world between two apostolates, and the fiction could only have been conceived at quite a distance, invented to characterize two legendary figures for the sake of a controversy. The issue that could have been and was dealt with in the Jerusalem assembly was that of legal observances, which our author seems almost uninterested in, because, in reality, he is focused on something entirely different. Thus, the only difficulty in our current problem is to historically situate the mystical Paul. Identifying him outright with Marcion or one of his followers is a drastic solution, since the mystical Paul is not Marcionite. On the other hand, the historical Paul, much to the dismay of champions of authenticity, would have been the blindest of polemicists, the most notorious liar, or the most insane of fools if he had spoken the language attributed to him by his spokesperson. One only has to look at the text to realize this. The issue is only obscured by the very respectable prejudice of the interpreters, which we infinitely respect. (43f – translation)

Loisy, A. Remarques sur La Littérature Épistolaire Du Nouveau Testament. Librairie Emile Nourry, 1935.

2024-07-09

What Others have Written About Galatians – Pierson and Naber

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by Neil Godfrey

I have copied here a translation from an 1886 publication of …

… two researchers from different fields of knowledge …. A. Pierson is the theologian …, whose work has made him known as an astute and fearless critic …. S. A. Naber, on the other hand, is a philologist and thus offers a guarantee of complete impartiality. The work therefore also claims to have brought the truth to light along a path that has hitherto been almost untrodden. The motto taken from Galen, which compares ordinary exegetes with those quacks who triumphantly cure a sick patient suffering from dropsy, reveals the opinion that the authors have of the exegesis of the New Testament to date. Why are there so many obscure passages in the New Testament which, despite all attempts at explanation, have only become more and more incomprehensible and where the work of the exegetes, instead of removing the difficulties, has only piled up new ones? The answer to this question is: because the New Testament consists of writings which are not homogeneous in themselves, but represent a basic text which has been revised and interpolated many times. (Steck, 18 — translation)

The original publication, Verisimilia, is in Latin. As per my original intent to address only the first two chapters of Galatians I post here only as much as is directly relevant — again with all bolded highlighting being my own. I have added text boxes with the relevant passages (Young’s Literal Translation) from Galatians for easy reference. (Some text references might not align correctly, presumably misprints, but the contents of the text boxes should make the argument followable.) —– One more note: Pierson and Nabor refer to “Bishop Paul” in order to identify the author of various interpolations into an originally thoroughly Jewish document as belonging to the later “episcopal age” of the church.

This epistle consists of two parts: one historical (1:1–2:14) and the other dogmatic and paraenetic (2:14–6:18). The transition from the former part to the latter is made through verse 2:14, the first part of which is historical and the latter part dogmatic. More will be said about this below.

The fact that the part we have called historical is beset by such grave difficulties should not seem surprising to us; for the things recounted in it reveal a varied origin and are mixed and confused in remarkable ways. We believe we will be able to show that these accounts are not to be attributed to a single writer, as they contain diverse and plainly contradictory statements about himself. We will compile in one place what we have observed about this matter.

He denies that there are two Gospels (1:9) and writes that the Gospel he opposes is not different from his own.

⁶I wonder that ye are so quickly removed from Him who did call you in the grace of Christ to another good news; ⁷that is not another, except there be certain who are troubling you, and wishing to pervert the good news of the Christ; ⁸but even if we or a messenger out of heaven may proclaim good news to you different from what we did proclaim to you — anathema let him be! ⁹as we have said before, and now say again, If any one to you may proclaim good news different from what ye did receive — anathema let him be!

He solemnly curses others (1:8); then, as those who give advice and exhortation in a kindly manner often do, he repeats what he had once said, although saying it once was entirely sufficient.

He does not wish to please other men (1:10), but his disciples will judge whether he has achieved this in his ministry (2:2: μήπως εἰς κενὸν τρέχω).

¹⁰for now men do I persuade, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if yet men I did please — Christ’s servant I should not be. . . .

2²and I went up by revelation, and did submit to them the good news that I preach among the nations, and privately to those esteemed, lest in vain I might run or did run (μήπως εἰς κενὸν τρέχω)

He was set apart from his mother’s womb and called by God’s grace (1:15) and until manhood advanced in Judaism and persecuted and attacked the Church of God.

He speaks of Jesus as if he were an image or leaven that had long been hidden in the heart (1:16: εν εμοι) and likewise speaks of Jesus as if he were a mortal man, whose brother he even knew (1:19). Continue reading “What Others have Written About Galatians – Pierson and Naber”

2024-07-07

What Others have Written About Galatians – J. C. O’Neill

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by Neil Godfrey

The fact that a century of such patient and devoted scholarship has yielded so few agreements on difficult passages and fundamental issues makes me think that the nineteenth-century debate is not yet over. (O’Neill, 8f)

John Cochrane O’Neill had a reputation for being a controversial critic but his attempt to sift through the many variant manuscripts (and to resolve the remaining inconsistencies even when those sources agree) was driven by a desire to “get to the truth about Paul”. O’Neill was not afraid to engage with that earlier “unmentionable” critic among theological circles, Bruno Bauer. Contrary to Bauer’s view, however, O’Neill viewed the interpolator or glossator of the epistle to the Galatians as a person who respected Paul and wanted to expand the original text in ways that did honour to Paul:

[Bruno Bauer] … argued that the epistle could not have been written by Paul to the congregations to which it purported to be addressed, and that all the ideas and most of the expressions were clumsily derived from Romans and the Corinthian correspondence—indeed, could often only be understood if one knew the original setting. The author of Galatians was, in short, a compiler.

Apart from a brief introduction, the whole part devoted to Galatians— seventy-four pages— is packed with precise, well-argued exegetical observations. The only general weakness in his argument is that no compiler would have made such a bad job of compilation as this author seems to have done; a compiler is more likely to have produced a smooth and understandable epistle than this. The more Bauer vents his sarcasm on the compiler for clumsiness in using his sources, the less likely does he make the hypothesis that a compiler was at work. (O’Neill, 4 — bolded highlighting is mine in all quotations)

O’Neill turns the obscurities in Galatians into evidence for the fundamental authenticity of the epistle:

How are we to explain that Paul was an independent apostle, who yet thought he should have his preaching approved in Jerusalem; that the Jerusalem leaders, James, Cephas, and John, solemnly agreed to approve his special work, and yet Cephas was able to act in such a way that Paul had to call him to book publicly at Antioch? The obscurity of the situation as it is presented in Galatians has given a foothold to those who wish to deny completely the authenticity of the book, but it remains an obscurity that is as good a guarantee as any of authenticity, for what falsifier would be so implausible and obscure?

I shall suggest that some of the difficulties have arisen because glossators tried to explain difficulties and fill in details. But, however much the picture has been retouched and repainted, the strong master-strokes have not been completely obscured, and on these we must fix our eyes. They may not fit our preconceptions, but nor do they fit the conceptions of the second-century Church. I think that the clue to the strange relations between Paul and the Jerusalem leaders has been given by the Danish New Testament scholar, Johannes Munck (1904-65). He argued that the Jerusalem leaders and Paul agreed that the conversion of the Gentiles, as well as the conversion of the Jews, was part of God’s plan for the world; they differed about strategy, the Jerusalem leaders holding that the Gentiles would come in when Israel had responded, and Paul holding that the conversion of the Gentiles might well have to ‘precede that of the Jews. Munck’s exegesis of Galatians I do not find satisfactory, but his insistence that Paul and the Jerusalem leaders could agree that there were two different and distinct missions to be carried out alongside one another provides the key to the relationships at the centre of the epistle. (9f)

Each of us may have our own ways of responding to the argument that I have highlighted with yellow background.

O’Neill is far from dogmatic about his proposed interpolations and glosses and makes no secret of his motive:

I cannot hope to have been completely right at every point in assigning this verse to Paul, and that to a glossator, and the other to an interpolator . . .

I hope [that] an historical study that removes obscurities and explains the meaning of the words will help to clear the way for a fresh conviction that Paul was in fact an apostle of the Son of God. (10, 13)

Following are the main points of O’Neill’s analysis of Galatians 1 and 2. I have added the table format and text of Galatians alongside O’Neill’s arguments or references to them.

Galatians 1-2 with passages O’Neill considers additions to the original epistle crossed through.	References to O’Neill’s discussion that is available publicly on archive.org. I have copied quotations that I think will be of most interest to readers.
1 Paul, an apostle — not from men, ~~nor through man~~, but through Jesus Christ, and God the Father, who did raise him out of the dead — 2 and all the brethren with me, to the assemblies of Galatia: 3 Grace to you, and peace from God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ,	Explanation on page 19
4 who did give himself for our sins, that he might deliver us out of the present ~~evil~~ age, according to the will of God even our Father, 5 to whom [is] the glory to the ages of the ages. Amen	Explanation on pages 19f
6 I wonder that ye are so quickly removed ~~from Him who did call you in the grace of Christ~~ to another good news;	He could hardly mean that the defection or threatened defection of the Galatians from his teaching, serious as it was, was complete defection from God. He regarded Jews who failed to acknowledge Jesus Christ as still worshipping God, even if they did not wholly obey him (Rom. 10.2; cf. 9-4f). Bruno Bauer adduced the idea that defection from Paul’s position was defection from God as evidence that the true author of Galatians was far removed from the time and circumstances of Paul.1 I cite in support of the possibility that Paul here refers to his own preaching the sentence in Gal. 5.8: ἡ πεισμονὴ οὐκ ἐκ τοῦ καλοῦντος ὑμᾶς [=This persuasion is not from him who calls you] where it is possible that Paul referred to himself. If Paul had meant in 1.6 that the Galatians were defecting from God, he would hardly have called that to which they were defecting εὐαγγέλιον, in however qualified a sense. (21)
7 that is not ~~another~~, except there be certain who are troubling you, and wishing to pervert the good news of the Christ;	Explanation on pages 20f Verses 6 and 7 as amended may be paraphrased like this. “I marvel that you are changing over so quickly to some other good news—which is not really good news at all. I would marvel, had there not been people who are disturbing you and wanting to pervert the good news of Christ.”
8 but even if we or a messenger out of heaven may proclaim good news to you different from what we did proclaim to you — anathema let him be! 9 as we have said before, and now say again, If any one to you may proclaim good news different from what ye did receive — anathema let him be!
10 for now men do I persuade, ~~or God~~? or do I seek to please men? for if yet men I did please — Christ’s servant I should not be.	Explanation on pages 23f
13 for ye did hear of my behaviour once in Judaism, that exceedingly I was persecuting the assembly of God, and wasting it, 14 and I was advancing in Judaism ~~above many equals in age in mine own race, being more abundantly zealous of my fathers’ deliverances,~~ 15 and when God was well pleased — having separated me from the womb of my mother, and having called [me] through His grace — 16 to reveal His Son in me, that I might proclaim him good news among the nations, immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood, 17 nor did I go up to Jerusalem unto those who were apostles before me, but I went away to Arabia, and again returned to Damascus, 18 then, after three years I went up to Jerusalem to enquire about Peter, and remained with him fifteen days, 19 and other of the apostles I did not see, except James, the brother of the Lord. 20 And the things that I write to you, lo, before God — I lie not; 21 then I came to the regions of Syria and of Cilicia, 22 and was unknown by face to the assemblies of Judea, that [are] in Christ, 23 and only they were hearing, that `he who is persecuting us then, doth now proclaim good news — the faith that then he was wasting;’ 24 and they were glorifying God in me.	These verses have been interpolated into Paul’s argument by a later writer who wished to glorify the apostle. The argument is irrelevant and anachronistic, the concepts differ from Paul’s concepts, and the vocabulary and style are not his. . . . . The interpolation is anachronistic because it regards Judaism as an entity distinct from Christianity. Jews at the time used the term ’Ιουδαϊσμος to describe their faith in opposition to heathenism (2 Macc. 2.21; 8.1; 14.38; 4 Macc. 4.26; synagogue inscription in Frey, C.I.J. I.694), but the use of the term in a Christian context seems to imply that Christianity is a system completely distinct from Judaism. Paul was well aware of the tragic gulf that had opened up between those Jews who believed in Jesus Christ and those who refused to believe, but he still held fast to the fact that “theirs were the fathers” (Rom. 9.5), that the fathers of those who believed in Christ were also the fathers of the unbelieving Jews. But this interpolation speaks in the terms to be found in the Apostolic Fathers of the second century, when Judaism had become a foreign entity (Ignatius Magn. 8.1; 10.3; Philad. 6.1). The concepts employed are rarely found in Paul, or are entirely absent. In verse 23 πίστις [=pistis/faith] is used of the Christian religion, as in Acts 6.7, and the only possible parallels in Paul are at 3.23-5, 6.10, and Rom. 1.5, all passages that are of doubtful authenticity. . . . Because he was employing old traditions, the interpolator did not regard his additions as illegitimate. He saw himself as enriching a treasured epistle by an edifying reminiscence of the conversion of St Paul, which could appropriately be put onto his lips. (pp 24-27)
2,1 Then, after fourteen years again I went up to Jerusalem with Barnabas, having taken with me also Titus; 2 and I went up by revelation, and did submit ~~to them~~ the good news that I preach	The verse should then be translated, “But I went up in obedience to revelation, and I submitted the gospel that I preach among the Gentiles, but to the authorities in private, lest I be running or had run in vain”. . . . The commentators who . . . take it to refer to the apostle’s fear, try to avoid the implication that Paul himself is afraid of anything. They suppose that the words “must be taken to express his fear lest the Judaic Christians, by insisting on the Mosaic ritual, might thwart his past and present endeavours to establish a Church on a liberal basis” (Lightfoot). This strained interpretation is required because the commentators relate the last clause to the very act of submitting the gospel, but the reading I have adopted relates the last clause to the privacy of the consultation. The apostle submitted the gospel privately, in case he was running in vain. The tortuous interpretation cited from Lightfoot, and followed by most commentators, seems necessary in order to avoid a blank denial of all that Paul has been insisting on in the first chapter of the epistle. If his commission was given by God and if he made no attempt to please men, he could not have admitted to asking the Jerusalem leaders to tell him whether or not he was in the right. Yet we cannot deny that the whole of this second chapter of the epistle portrays the Jerusalem leaders as authorities exercising a quasi-judicial power. As Lightfoot shrewdly notes, to his own discomfort, the natural drift of verse 2 is “slightly favoured by οὐδέν προσανέθεντο [=nothing added], ver. 6”. . . . . But what can be the point of submitting to the judgement of the Jerusalem apostles if the judgement did not concern the very thing that Paul has insisted in chapter 1 was beyond human judgement, his preaching to the Gentiles? What else can the Jerusalem apostles be deciding than that Paul has been right or wrong from the very beginning? They were deciding, I believe, no such general issue, but simply the concrete particular issue whether they, as the leaders of Israel that had acknowledged her Messiah, would accept the Gentiles who had also acknowledged Jesus as Messiah, but without becoming proselytes, as the firstfruits of the obedience of the Gentiles which had been promised. Had they decided not to accept Paul’s work, Paul would have known that his race had been in vain. This would have been a staggering blow to him, meaning that Israel was not yet ready to accept one of the promised messianic signs, but the blow could not strike at his personal commission from God. Paul deliberately sought private audience so that, if the authorities were not yet ready to accept the Gentiles, the refusal would not have been public, and Paul would not have had to labour against the disappointment the Gentile Christians would have inevitably suffered at their first rebuff. He would have continued to work for a response from the Gentiles, and he would have continued to hope for an acceptance of these Gentiles by the representatives of Israel, the leaders in Jerusalem. What was the content of this commission, which hitherto we have described generally as the commission to preach to the Gentiles? We must now be more precise. The commission was to preach Jesus Christ to the Gentiles without at the same time asking that they become Jews. That commission Paul could never give up to please men, but at the same time that commission had to be carried out, had to be submitted to the test of history, and could have proved, for the time being, fruitless. The first test was successful, and the Gentiles began to believe. The second test might have been unsuccessful, but it too succeeded. The representatives of Israel acknowledged Paul’s work, did not compel Titus to be circumcised, and laid no conditions … on the Gentile congregations through Paul their representative. (28ff)
3 but not even ~~Titus~~, [instead, “my companion”] who [is] with me, being a Greek, was compelled to be circumcised —	It is easy to see how the name could have been added to the text. The original may well have been, … “But not even my companion, who is a Greek, was compelled to be circumcised” . Explanation on pages 30ff
4 and [that] because [~~even~~] of the false brethren brought in unawares, who did come in privily to spy out our liberty that we have in Christ Jesus, that us they might bring under bondage, 5 ~~to whom~~ not even for an hour we gave place by subjection, ~~that the truth of the good news might remain to you~~. 6 And [~~now~~] from those who were esteemed to be something — whatever they were then, it maketh no difference to me — the face of man God accepteth not, for — to me those esteemed did add nothing,	Without the particle, the whole phrase goes easily with the preceding verb: “for not even my companion who was a Greek was compelled to be circumcised on account of the false intruding1 brothers who came in to spy out the freedom we have in Christ Jesus” . The intruders must have been intruders into the church at Antioch, otherwise we should have to suppose, on the previous argument, that they managed to penetrate into the private meeting between Paul, Barnabas, and Titus with the “pillars” in Jerusalem. But then there would be nothing to “spy out” ; the meeting was openly concerned with the issue. This description of the false brothers must apply to their activities away in the churches from which Paul has come. The sense of verses 3 and 4 is that the pressure brought by these agitators was not sufficient to lead even to the requirement that a Greek received by the Jerusalem congregation be circumcised, much less that Greeks in a Greek environment be circumcised. (32f) The original text of 2:3-6 O’Neill conjectures as follows: Not even the one who was with me, being a Greek, was compelled to be circumcised, because those who came in unawares, to spy out our liberty that we have in Christ Jesus, that us they might bring under bondage. Not for an hour did we yield in subjection. Of those esteemed to be something, whatever they were then, it maketh no difference to me — the face of man God accepteth not, for — to me those esteemed did add nothing… Explanation on pages 33-36
7 but, on the contrary, having seen that I have been entrusted with the good news of the uncircumcision, ~~as Peter with [that] of the circumcision~~, 8 for He who did work with ~~Peter~~ to the apostleship ~~of the circumcision~~, did work also in me in regard to the nations, 9 and having known the grace that was given to me, James, and Cephas, and John, who were esteemed to be pillars, a right hand of fellowship they did give to me, and to Barnabas, that we to the nations, and they to the circumcision [may go], 10 only, of the poor that we should be mindful, which also I was diligent — this very thing — to do. 11 And when Peter came to Antioch, to the face I stood up against him, because he was blameworthy, 12 for before the coming ~~of certain~~ from James, with the nations he was eating, and when ~~they came~~, he was withdrawing and separating himself, fearing those of the circumcision, 13 and dissemble with him also did the other Jews, so that also Barnabas was carried away by their dissimulation. 14 But when I saw that they are not walking uprightly to the truth of the good news, I said to Peter before all, `If thou, being a Jew, in ~~the manner of the nations~~ dost live, and not in the manner of the Jews, how the nations dost thou compel to Judaize? 15 we by nature Jews, and not sinners of the nations, 16 having known also that a man is not declared righteous by works of law, if not through the faith of Jesus Christ, also we in Christ Jesus did believe, that we might be declared righteous by the faith of Christ, and not by works of law, wherefore declared righteous by works of law shall be no flesh.’ 17 ~~And if, seeking to be declared righteous in Christ, we ourselves also were found sinners, [is] then Christ a ministrant of sin? let it not be!~~ 18 for if the things I threw down, these again I build up, a transgressor I set myself forth; 19 for I through law, did die, that to God I may live; 20 with Christ I have been crucified, and ~~live no more do I, and Christ doth live in me~~; and that which I now live in the flesh — in the faith I live ~~of the Son~~ of God, who did love me and did give himself for me; 21 I do not make void the grace of God, for if righteousness [be] through law — then Christ died in vain.	Explanation on pages 37 to 46 Paul shows that he was not afraid to stand up to Cephas— whose authority as one of the “pillars” he has already acknowledged—in order to show Cephas that he was a transgressor. How much more should the Galatians stand up to men without any such authority who try to persuade the Gentiles to give up their status as the Gentile part of God’s economy in the messianic age. (44) . . . . The first sentence in verse 20 has a different view of the life of a Christian from that expressed in the rest of verse 20 and in verse 21. The ego dies to be replaced by Christ, and the Christian man is substantially changed. In the rest of the verse, on the other hand, the Christian man undergoes not a change in substance but a change in the centre of his trust. The death he went through did not change his nature but changed his allegiance. He still lives in the flesh, expecting death and resurrection with Christ. I conclude that the first sentence of verse 20 is a perfectly understandable gloss on Paul’s argument. Paul’s mention of death could not but suggest to a theologian living in the Hellenistic world the mystical change of nature whereby an initiate was incorporated into the divine life and deified. Compare the prayer to Hermes, “ Come to me Lord Hermes, as babies to women’s wombs . . . I know you, Hermes, and you know me. I am you and you are I.” (45f)

O’Neill, John Cochrane. The Recovery of Paul’s Letter to the Galatians. London: S.P.C.K., 1972.

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"I always enjoy reading Neil’s blog because I think that he is careful, thorough, intellectually fair, and honest."

— April DeConick, – November 2007
"Very good. This post is going straight to the March 2016 Biblical Studies Carnival."

—N.T. Wrong, – March 2016
Congratulations, Vridar, . . . I declare, Vridar, your own hard work translating Bruno Bauer will make a major difference in future studies of Bruno Bauer and the evolution of Hegel’s philosophy of religion.

-- Paul Trejo, - April 2023
"Neil Godfrey and Tim Widowfield, who both write at Vridar . . . happen to be some of the most astute and well-read amateurs you can read on the internet on the subject of biblical historicity. I call them amateurs only for the reason that they don’t have, so far as I know, advanced degrees in the subject. But I have often been impressed with their grasp of logic and analysis of scholarship. I don’t always agree with them, but I respect their work."

— Richard Carrier, – March 2014

Neil Godfrey on A Little Question of Past Tense Pillars in Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians: “Might not the argument in that article only further increase the problem Paul’s failure to reference Peter’s behaviour in Jerusalem…” Dec 26, 01:27
arch on A Little Question of Past Tense Pillars in Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians: “>But there is nothing in Paul’s rebuke of Peter that points to a breach of prior agreement with the three…” Dec 25, 17:06
Neil Godfrey on Review of R. G. Price’s book on the Christ Myth theory — and a review of Richard Carrier’s to come: “If you are persuaded by the kind of evidence cited then you might also be interested in a major city…” Dec 22, 23:57
Henry Cobb on Review of R. G. Price’s book on the Christ Myth theory — and a review of Richard Carrier’s to come: ““Mark’s Geography and the origin of Mark’s Gospel with Professor Richard Bauckham” shows that parts of Mark is based on…” Dec 22, 21:58
Neil Godfrey on The Folly of Bayesian Probability in “Doing History”: “A troll is someone who ignores what is being said and continues their own agenda without engaging with the logic…” Dec 21, 03:26
Petr Jancar on The Folly of Bayesian Probability in “Doing History”: “I am still once more responding, so that you do not think that I am impolite or that I am…” Dec 20, 07:22
Neil Godfrey on The Folly of Bayesian Probability in “Doing History”: “I re-read my earlier reply and can see how you took it as “emotional” — but I can assure you…” Dec 18, 02:43
Neil Godfrey on The Folly of Bayesian Probability in “Doing History”: “I simply asked you to tell me what it is that you think I misunderstand or what, specifically, I am…” Dec 17, 20:26
Petr Jancar on The Folly of Bayesian Probability in “Doing History”: “Neil, I have no interest to engage in an emotional discussion. I felt indebted to you, since I read many…” Dec 17, 19:21

The Amorite Hypothesis

The Exodus and Natural Catastrophes

The Ramesside Period as the Setting of the Exodus

Transjordanian Occupational Gap

Thirteenth-Century Destructions

The Search for a Distinctively Israelite Material Culture

The Conquest of Canaan: Observations of a Philologist . . .

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The Calling

Two Types of Prophet

Authenticating the message

Types of messages

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Stylometry

Galatians

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Conclusion:

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A Digression on Leopold von Ranke and Positivist History

Back to the Question: Evidence for Pre-Constantinian Christianity

Dating ancient texts

Real versus Theoretical Knowledge?

Conclusion

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