Vridar

2008-02-16

The GOOD legacy of a fundamentalist and cultic life: 6 – capacity for humility and trust

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by Neil Godfrey

Continuing from Leaving the Fold Marlene Winell’s encouraging list of some of the good one can take away from the fundamentalist or cultic experience, mingled with my own thoughts . . . . (See also her newly established Recovery from Religion website.) — earlier posts under the Winell and Fundamentalism categories linked here.

Fundamentalists and cultists generally reject certain aspects of mainstream society that are to their benefit. “[A] sense of exaggerated self-importance and responsibility is the result of the value our society places on achievement, self-determination, and power. As a result, most people experience some amount of ongoing anxiety.” (p.108 )

With the old dysfunctional belief system the down side was that one would not care enough about the larger material needs of family and self, or trust too much to the care of God or even do damage one’s prospects and needs by giving too much away or assuming that there would be no tomorrow but God’s kingdom. Jobs, family, personal development and interests and more often suffered. Normal responsibilities were too often “sacrificed” by irresponsibility under the rationale of “trusting God”. But there is a good legacy to be salvaged from that. Those of us who have been through that at least know how to accept the things we can’t control in life, and to face situations with a calm and relaxed outlook. That even means accepting our own shortcomings from time to time without overly self-absorbed self-doubts and hates. As often as not this is also the way to finding what we really would like and need in life anyway.

This is the “let it be” legacy that some lucky ones find without having to experience the extremes of fundamentalism.

Recently I heard a most entertaining radio interview with Nigel Latta, a clinical psychologist who has recently authored Before Your Kids Drive You Crazy, Read This! Battlefield Wisdom for Stressed-Out Parents. I know I would have saved myself, and my kids, some good measures of stress along the way had I been open to Nigel’s wit and wisdom when a new parent. Check out the interview here. One part of his message is that parents need to accept what kids will do no matter what.

Acceptance born of understanding of self and our limitations is not a bad way to go.

2008-02-12

“Heaven above and Hell below” : a cosmos in the brain and genesis of religion?

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by Neil Godfrey

Heaven above, Hell below, and the level of anxious humanity in between appear in one form or another across the globe. Why should this be so? In the materiality of daily life there is, after all, no evidence whatsoever of hidden spiritual realms above and below. (David Lewis-Williams, The Mind in the Cave, p.144)

David Lewis-Williams, in his pioneering The Mind in the Cave, argues that the universally held beliefs of a three-tiered cosmos, with spirit worlds above and below the here and now of daily life, are best explained by the wiring of the human brain, in altered states of consciousness, to generate the experience such a cosmos.

Laboratory experiments and reports from “an extremely broad range of shamanistic (and other) societies” point to this near universal concept originating in certain experiences of an altered state of consciousness.

The ubiquity of institutionalized altered states of consciousness is borne out by a survey of 488 societies included in Murdock’s Ethnographic Atlas. Erika Bourguignon, who carried out this survey, found that an overwhelming 437, or 90 per cent, of these societies were reported to have ‘culturally patterned forms of altered states of consciousness’. She concluded that ‘the capacity [necessity] to experience altered states of consciousness is a psychobiological capacity [necessity] of the species, and thus universal, its utilization, institutionalization, and patterning are, indeed, features of cultures, and thus variable.’ (p.131)

Lewis-Williams adds that the Ethnographic Atlas defined altered states of consciousness too narrowly so that sub-Saharan African societies were excluded from being counted among those who recognized the importance of altered states. The difference is that they do not create the same overt institutionalization around them as other cultures.

It seems, then, that Bourguignon’s ‘capacity’ should be changed to ‘necessity’, if the full range of altered states is recognized and the ways in which they may be institutionalized are seen as highly variable. (p.131)

Cultural bias against these altered states has led to an undervaluing in scientific studies of their significance as a valid experience of being human. These experiences of a state of consciousness frowned upon by modern western institutions have nonetheless formed a fully valid and important role in the institutions, beliefs and ways of living in other societies.

Altered states of consciousness — the genesis of religion?

Lewis-Williams: “I am not alone in emphasizing the importance of making sense of altered states of consciousness in the genesis of religion.”

Peter Furst: “It is at least possible, though certainly not provable, that the practice of shamanism . . . may have involved from the first — that is, the very beginnings of religion itself — the psychedelic potential of the natural environment.”

James McClenon: “Shamanism, the result of cultural adaptation to biologically based [altered states of consciousness], is the origin of all later religious forms.”

Weston La Barre: “All the dissociative ‘altered states of consciousness’ — hallucination, trance, possession, vision, sensory deprivation, and especially the REM-state dream — apart from their cultural contexts and symbolic content, are essentially the same psychic states found everywhere among mankind; . . . shamanism or direct contact with the supernatural in these states . . . is the de facto source of all revelation, and ultimately of all religions.”

(All cited from The Mind in the Cave, p.135)

The spectrum of consciousness

The normal trajectory from Alert to Autistic states of consciousness, although like the light spectrum there is no clear dividing moment between any of the stages:

Waking, problem-oriented thought
Daydreaming
Hypnagogic states
Dreaming
Unconsciousness

But there’s another far more intensified spectrum that leads to hallucinations. This one can be induced by sensory deprivation that leads to the compensatory release of internal imagery, certain psychopathological states and drugs.

meditation techniques shutting out of the environment
audio-diving with prolonged drumming
sustained rhythmic dancing
fatigue
pain
fasting
psychotropic substances
schizophrenia
temporal lobe epilepsy

The intensified trajectory that results:

1. Waking, problem-oriented thought
2. Daydreaming
3. Entoptic phenomena (see entoptic images here and also a pdf view of normal and pathological images)
4. Construal (brain attempts to decode these entoptic images by fitting them into its store of recognized images (e.g. a circle becomes an orange to one who is hungry, a breast to one sexually aroused, cup of water to one thirsty, or a bomb to one who is fearful)

between #4 and #5 there may be the experience of a swirling vortex or rotating tunnel drawing the person down into it; its walls are marked by a lattice of squares like tv screens displaying spontaneous hallucinatory images; sometimes a bright light in the centre creates this tunnel effect, with images moving into and/or away from the centre

5. Hallucinations (in any of the 5 senses) — i.e. “altered states of consciousness”

The imagery of the tunnel (between #4 and #5) is also a western construct. It can be similarly called a funnel, an alley, a cone, a corridor, a pit. In other cultures it is often seen as a hole in the ground; or as a falling through a tube; gliding down through the sea; following roots of a tree down into the ground . . .

The imagery the hallucinations #5 are largely derived from memory and hence vary across cultures. An Inuit will see talking seals or bears; Hildegard of Bingen saw angels and strange creatures from scriptures, medieval wall paintings and illuminations. They are vivid. Not described as being “like” something, but as the real things themselves. Sometimes entoptic phenomena remain as part of the image, as geometric patterns behind or framing the images, or blending with them (e.g. a man with zig-zag legs). The hallucinator blends with the geometric and iconic imagery, sensing him or herself changing into an animal and other transformations.

The spectrum of consciousness is ‘wired’, but its content is mostly cultural. (p.126)

Shamanism

Characteristics of hunter-gatherer shamanism:

it deploys a range of institutionalized altered states of consciousness
the visual, aural and somatic experiences of those altered states lead to perception of a tiered alternative reality (spirit realms above and below)
the shamans are believed to have the powers to access this alternative reality
the human nervous system in certain altered states creates the illusion of dissociation from one’s body (sometimes understood as possession by spirits)

These altered states are “used” for the purposes of:

contacting spirits
healing the sick
controlling the movements and lives of animals
changing the weather

Spirit helpers assist the shamans to enter their altered states and perform the above duties. These helpers include:

various supernatural powers
animal-helpers and other spirits

Altered states of consciousness are not restricted to one form of trance. Some “contact the spirits” in visions and out-of-body travel in a number of states, ranging from “light trance” in which the shamans are aware of their surroundings (healing the sick, divination, etc); in ordinary dreams; and “deep trance” where they appear to lie dead while their souls travel elsewhere. Some societies place great importance on the entoptic imagery; others on the full hallucinations where contact is made with the figures they know from myths.

I’m not saying Jesus was a shaman, but that is how he appears in the gospels. Some scholars have suggested that. With those in mind it is interesting to note that Jesus is said to have spoken to spirits, healed the sick, kept wild animals at bay while in the wilderness and sent 2000 pigs hurtling into a lake, and stilled a storm and darkened the earth at his death. He began his career with the power of the spirit entering into or upon him in the form of a dove.

Brain wiring creates the upper-lower spirit world cosmos

One form of altered consciousness state is the wired neuropsychological experience of weightlessness, dissociation and the sense of one’s body being stretched out with superlong limbs. This experience is readily felt or understood to involve a sense of flight or floating — into a spirit world above.

Another form of altered consciousness state that is the wired-into-the-human-nervous-system is the experience of travel through a vortex, often accompanied by a difficulty in breathing, hearing sounds, distorted vision, weightlessness and a sense of being in another world. This experience is readily felt or understood to involve a sense of travel underground or underwater — past spirits talking or singing and into a spirit world below. Some cultures speak of entering caves through this experience, others of following the roots of a tree, or of going down animal burrows (Alice in Wonderland?).

However they are interpreted, the fundamental sensations of being underground or underwater remain universal: they are the most obvious, most logical explanations for the effects created by the behaviour of the nervous system in altered states. An ‘introcosm’ is projected onto the material world to create a cosmology. (p.146)

In sum:

Taken together the neurologically generated experiences of travelling underground and flying are, I argue, the origin of notions of a tiered cosmos.

This is, I believe, the best explanation for so universally held beliefs that have no relation to the material experience of daily life.

Such beliefs were not inferred from observations of the natural environment.

Nor did they easily and swiftly diffuse from a single geographically located origin because they made excellent sense of the world in which people lived.

Rather, they are part of the in-built experiences of the full spectrum of human consciousness.

(p.147 — formatting mine)

Beyond Paleolithic cave art

David Lewis-Williams is proposing an explanation for Paleolithic cave art. There is, of course, much more to the explanation but what is summarized here is a fundamental part of his hypothesis.

He also discusses the positioning of various artistic depictions within the caves, their relationship to natural protuberances and cavities on the cave walls (the spirits of these lay just behind those cave walls?), their inclusion of geometrical and boatlike (entoptic?) shapes, and what appear to be swarms of bees or enormous numbers of spears in some human forms (palaeolithic interpretations of the experience of the stinging of the skin as one “descended through the earth”?), the bleeding noses, the phallic signs of sexual arousal (sometimes accompanying hallucinogenic states), the elongated limbs (an hallucinatory experience), the animals and humans that seem to be a mixture of different creatures in the one body (hallucinations of turning into other animals?), the overlapping of some images, and more. As I read The Mind in the Cave I felt those decorated caves taking on a Paleolithic equivalence to a cathedral in Rome. The meaning of the art in both is drenched in religious experience. The neuropsychological roots of the earlier one are more obvious and less controversially explained.

Not everyone in societies that value these alternate states of consciousness experiences them. But everyone does experience enough (dreams, entoptic images) to validate the experiences of those who do.

Moving on from Paleolithic times, we encounter the Delphic oracle and other Sybils. We know the image of the old woman at the cave mouth who communed with the god within.

So what emerges with such an explanation is a template for the earliest myths from historical times.

The legends of Orpheus, Odysseus and Aeneas and earlier Mesopotamian heroes and divinities descending into the underground abode of spirits and returning are familiar — and would appear to go back to the earliest experiences of homo sapiens’ consciousness. (Evidence suggests that Neanderthals and other pre homo sapiens hominids lacked consciousness of the extended past and future in order to experience the same.)

The concept of a human able to communicate with the spirits, to travel to and from the upper and lower places of spirits, of being possessed or infused with the power of the spirits, may well be an inevitable universal part of the way the brain of homo sapiens is wired.

And what is equally interesting to me is that such a template foreshadows the pattern of a human departing this world, appearing to die, and suffering piercings of the skin as they descended down to the underworld, before finally “returning victorious” to their bodies.

Many modern scholars have attempted to distance themselves from the “parallelism” of Sir James George Frazer (of The Golden Bough fame) by lurching with a vengeance into the embrace of Jonathan Z. Smith (Drudgery Divine, Map is not Territory, To Take Place, Imagining Religion, etc.). But as Robert M. Price has noted, and without denying the real weaknesses in Frazer’s work, Smith’s “demolition” of the apparently obvious is based on a denial of the broader conceptual notion of similar ideas. By attributing greater weight to the subsidiary culturally bound details than to the larger whole one can in effect deny the possibility of any comparison at all.

But how can one fail at least to wonder at the possibility of a template of a man who dies and returns, spirit empowered, to an even more respected and higher role from which to guide a community to health and safety, perhaps even eventually salvation from death?

Perhaps all religions with motifs of suffering, death and redemption or resurrection of some form are all essentially congenital in origin and appeal.

2008-02-09

The literary genre of Acts. 10: historical novels – ancient cyrogenics and lost cities

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by Neil Godfrey

Following is my own elaboration of Pervo’s introduction to a discussion of ancient historical novels. My Stadter citations are independent of Pervo’s book. I do not refer to Acts in this post. Others can think through the comparisons. But will discuss a few more historical novels before returning to Acts.

The Cyropaedia by Xenophon – the first historical novel

The author Xenophon, ca 400 b.c.e., wrote histories of Greek wars (Hellenica) and of his expedition in the Persian empire (Anabasis). Some of his works have been translated as modern Penguin classics and all can be found online.

He also wrote “a historical biography” of the Persian king Cyrus. In this account we read of historical characters who at times are true to known historical actions. The Cyropaedia reads like history.

He begins by explaining how careful he was to research his facts:

Believing this man to be deserving of all admiration, we have therefore investigated who he was in his origin, what natural endowments he possessed, and what sort of education he had enjoyed, that he so greatly excelled in governing men. Accordingly, what we have found out or think we know concerning him we shall now endeavour to present. (From the Perseus Project text.)

That sounds impressive and reassuring enough to a first time reader.

But Philip Stadter (Fictional Narrative in the Cyropaideia) compares this research-statement by Xenophon with others written by Herodotus and Thucydides (p.462):

Herodotus

noted his desire to preserve and understand the past
gave a sample of the oral traditions upon which he would draw
claimed he would start from what he himself knew, showing no partiality

Thucydides

stressed the analytical and investigatory effort needed to get to the truth
presented a schematic example of his mode of inquiry by analyzing the growth of unified action and maritime power re the Trojan War

Contrast Xenophon

makes no overt claim to factual accuracy
no statement on the difficulties of ascertaining the truth in a distant time and country
no allusions to the weaknesses of memory or the reliability of informants

Stadter writes:

In telling his story, Xenophon composed the first extant novel, and demonstrated the power and flexibility of fictional prose narrative. His work is heavily influenced by earlier narrative in poetry and prose, and yet developed new possibilities and emphases. (p.461)

The Cyropedia was an ancient historical novel.

Xenophon does on occasion accurately preserve customs – such as wearing high-soled shoes – or names, at least within the limitations of his own knowledge. But these items are subservient to the narrative, the source of which is Xenophon’s invention, not historical tradition or research. . . .

Xenophon shapes a story of Cyrus which is composed of dialogues that were never spoken, battles that never took place, and people summoned and dismissed from the written page without any shadow of historical reality. . . .

The creation and selection of narrative episodes, the temporal and geographical framework in which they are set, and the mode in which the reader is expected to respond are fictional. (p.463-4)

The purpose of this historical novel? To teach readers the principles of an ideal government and the qualities of an ideal ruler.

Yet as Stadter points out, the reader is assured from the beginning that the story is based on the author’s diligent enquiries into the facts. It is not until one reads “some 21 pages” of unrelenting success stories that one begins to dsicern the fictional nature of the work. (Stadter, p.462). Not that any one story is incredible on its own, but it is the steady avalanching of success stories that eventually collapses under its own weight, at least in the minds of savvy readers.

Ancients recognized its fictional character.

Cicero wrote:

Take the case of the famous Cyrus, portrayed by Xenophon, not as an historical character, but as a model of righteous government, the serious dignity of whose character is represented by that philosopher as combined with a peculiar courtesy. (Letter to Quintus)

In Diogenes Laertius we read:

Then, too, the one wrote the Cyropaedia and the other a book on Politics ; and Plato in his Laws says, that the Cyropaedia is a mere romance, for that Cyrus was not such a person as he is described in that book.

Richard Pervo (Profit with Delight, p.177) adds a third citation, the letter to Pompey 4 by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, to the same effect.

The power of the historical novel format

Stadter lists the following advantages (not necessarily his words) of the narrative format:

A long narrative is an effective way to convey complicated information or concepts.
Narrative also permits the interweaving of a number of themes.
Narrative replicates the human experience of “one durn thing after another”, creating a vivid sense of reality in the telling of each piece of information.
Narratives are a form of teaching by example rather than abstract precepts or summary statements, and thus naturally more memorable and even plausible.
If the events are credible, the reader may accept them as possible. If the events are contrary to common experience, the reader will either place them in a distant time and place (e.g. The Odyssey) or treat them as allegory or parable (e.g. Aesop’s fables). Either way, narrative is persuasive by its nature.
Narratives (good ones) are enjoyable, and listeners generally want to hear more.
Narratives are memorable. The lessons or messages they convey are easily recalled.

One can add three points to Stadter’s list the value of historical fiction:

added verisimilitude
added verisimilitude
added verisimilitude

Recall how all the more enthralled we were as children when a fairy tale ended with words like, “And we know this really happened because you can see to this very day . . . ”

That eternally persuasive “historically-true” story of Atlantis

Pervo does not discuss Plato’s story of Atlantis but Stadter helpfully brings it in to the discussion.

The history of Atlantis is a fictional morality tale within a larger work by Plato, Timaeus. But it has taken a life of its own, as everyone knows. Most of us treat the story as a fable. But that was not how it is introduced, and those people today who believe it was real have a good case, at least by the standards often set out for believing the historicity of ancient writings accepted into religious canons.

Plato goes to great pains to explain through Critias how he carefully he decided to introduce the story in the first place, since his concern was to get the true details right in his own mind before expounding it. For though it might be seen as a quite extraordinary story, it nonetheless definitely “was true”. To remove any doubt from readers’ minds Plato writes that

the story is actually documented by custodians — in Egypt — who can be trusted to preserve such records
the story was passed on via a chain of highly reputable and credible named witnesses
these witnesses took pains to be sure they got the story exactly right and passed it on without deviation
the transmitters were conscious of the risk of normal memory lapses so took specified preventive measures to minimize this risk

Plato insisted in his writing through his characters that the story was definitely and without a shadow of doubt true and factual. An abundance of references to what appear to be the records of eyewitness details follow.

And many remain persuaded even today. And many more, though not persuaded, are open to wondering if maybe there was some truth to it after all. And it all started with Plato’s simulation of history — his mini historical novel within Timaeus.

Such is the power of a narrative that reads like history.

2008-02-03

Dating the Book of Acts: Characterization of Paul

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by Neil Godfrey

Continuing notes from reading of Tyson’s Marcion and Luke-Acts. . . .

After discussing the shifting directions of the scholarly debates over Paul’s characterization in Acts vis a vis the Paul we find in the epistles, Tyson asks if a more definitive answer is to be found to the question of whether the Paul of Acts is a most appropriate response to the Paul of the Marcionites.

Parallell Lives
Tyson first addresses the contribution of Clark’s Parallel Lives to understanding the author of Act’s intention to portray Paul in both continuity and unity with Peter and the Twelve. He adds to Clark’s work the observation that the influence of Plutarch’s influence on the author of Acts “is more credible if we date Acts after ca. 115 c.e., since it is probable that the Parallel Lives [by Plutarch] was not published before that date.” (p.63)

Objective reference
But more significantly, Tyson notes that Clark’s work on the reasons for the author’s creation of parallels between the lives of Paul and Peter is based on internal criteria alone and lacks an objective external reference. Clark’s argument for certain themes and reasons for his parallels would be more credible if one could show how they were a fitting response to a known historical challenge. Tyson is, of course, arguing that the Marcionite challenge was the appropriate historical situation which would best explain Clark’s understanding of Luke’s characterization of Paul (through parallels with Peter et al).

Tyson looks at the history of attempts to reconcile the Paul of Acts and the Paul of the letters.

F. C. Baur
Author of Acts rewrote the characters of Paul and Peter to show them united theologically — in support of the Law. Contrast “the real Paul” who was anti-Torah.

Adolf von Harnack
Paul’s attitude to the Torah was complex and not a blanket opposition to it. Luke had not found the Torah the same theological challenge that Paul had, and in his portrayal of Paul he brings out the more Jewish side of Paul as he (Luke) knew him.

Philip Vielhauer
In natural theology, Luke portrayed Paul as a Stoic philosopher for whom knowledge of God could be acquired naturally and positively, apart from revelation — which was the view of the Paul of the letters.

In Christology, Acts is adoptionist, and the cross of Christ was a wrongful murder of an innocent man for which the Jews were culpable — unlike Paul of the letters for whom the cross was a saving event, a means of judgment and reconciliation.

In eschatology, Paul relegates the coming judgment and resurrection to a tail end position in his message — unlike the Paul of the letters who whom it was central and imminent.

In the law, Acts avoids the real complexities of Paul’s attitude toward the Torah, and presents him as a faithful Pharisee in practice, as demonstrated by:

his missionary practice of going to the synagogue Jews first and only turning to gentiles after a formal rejection there
his submission to Jerusalem authorities
his circumcision of Timothy
his spreading the apostolic decrees
his vow
his trips to Jerusalem to observe religious festivals
his concurring with James in participating in a Nazirite vow
his emphasizing his Pharisee status when on trial

Ernst Haenchen
The author of Acts justified the gentile mission as simply being God’s will, unaware of Paul’s more complex justification from his arguments about the Law. Author of Acts also missed the real contention at the heart of Paul’s theology. To Luke, this was the resurrection. The real issue, the Torah, was only alluded to in Acts as a false accusation against Paul. Also, to Haenchen, Acts differed from the letters by presenting Paul as a miracle worker and great orator, but not as an apostle.

Jacob Jervell
The letters of Paul addressed specific issues and do not present a full biography. Acts and the letters are needed for a complete picture. Except for Romans 9-11, the points of theological contact are between the Paul in Acts and the marginal notes in the letters.

Stanley E. Porter
Disputes Haenchen’s and Vielhauer’s interpretations of the wide gulf between the Paul of the letters and of Acts. The Paul of the letters can also be seen as a miracle worker and orator. Porter also argues more weight should be given to the two times in Acts when Paul is called an apostle. And the accusations in Acts that Paul taught against Torah argue for the author’s knowing of the importance of the Torah in Paul’s message, and that the different emphases between Acts and the epistles are the result of different genres.

Mark D. Nanos
The letter to Galatians is an “ironic rebuke” of the converts. “Judaizers” are not opposed to belief in Christ but only to the idea that circumcision (becoming a full proselyte) is not also necessary to be part of Israel. Paul had taught them that belief in Christ was all that was necessary. He does not attack Torah observance or question its appropriateness for non-Christian Jews. The issue is not faith in Christ versus Torah observance. Nanos’s understanding of Galatians is that of a Paul close to the one in Acts.

Joseph B. Tyson
Despite interpretations that appear to lessen the divide between the Paul of the letters and Acts, it is difficult to reconcile:

Paul’s views in Galatians with the Paul in Acts 16 who would circumcise Timothy
Paul’s rejection of his past in Phil 3:1-11 with his maintenance of it in Acts 23:6
Paul’s vehement defining of himself as an apostle in Gal 1:1, Rom 1:1; 1:13; 1 Cor 1:1; 9:1, 2; 15:9; 2 Cor 1:1; 12:12 with the almost total denial of the title to him in Acts

A final settlement of the apparent conflicts between the Paul of the epistles and the Paul of Acts still escapes us.

But if “Acts was written in the first half of the second century, . . . its characterization of Paul and Pauline theology may be understood as an extraordinarily appropriate attempt to correct the teachings of Marcionite Christianity.” (p.68 )

Whatever role Paul played during his own lifetime, there appears to be a struggle for his legacy in the second century. (Compare post comparing Pastorals with Acts of Paul and Thecla.) Marcionites used Paul as their authority for rejecting the Torah, Hebrew Scriptures and Jewish customs. Acts responds(?) by representing him as a faithful Jew and Pharisee.

Tyson then singles out three major features of Paul’s characterization in Acts, drawing on features Vielhauser believed were divergences from the epistles, and including observations of their themes and literary patterns, to show how they qualify as responses to Marcionism.

1. Paul’s Missionary Method

Tyson has earlier covered the literary pattern used for the missionary narratives and the themes they support. See Marcionite Context 1 for an elaboration of this and what follows.

The narratives of Paul’s mission work regularly consists of the same fourfold patterning of the following four themes:

fidelity of the believing community to the Jewish traditions and practices — Paul always begins with the synagogue
the community’s inclusion of Gentiles
Jewish rejection of the Christian message
Jewish opposition to the community

Further, “the heart of Paul’s message in the synagogues is that Jesus is the fulfillment of Jewish expectation and prophetic promises.” (p.69)

Note how these themes fit hand in glove with the Marcionite challenge:

Marcion insisted that the Christian message consisted of a rejection of the Jewish Torah and Scriptures. Yet in Acts Paul is found returning again and again to the synagogue. There is a rift between Jew and Christian, yes, but the reason for this is clearly the fact that the Jews themselves are rejecting the message. And they are doing so not because the message is anti-Jewish, or anti-Torah or anti-Hebrew-Scriptures, but because of their hard stubborn hearts. The Christian message is that Jesus is the fulfillment of their Scriptures and Messianic hopes, and this is what angers them.

Paul’s repeated attempts to convert the Jews by showing them he was sympathetic and obedient to their customs and by preaching that Jesus was the fulfillment of their Scriptures was the perfectly apt response to Marcionite claims that Christianity had no link with Jewish traditions and that the Jewish scriptures had no relevance for the new message from the Alien God.

Hoffmann, I recall, somewhere makes the point that the irony is that it was the “pro-Jewish” Christianity of the orthodox that was fundamentally anti-semitic, accusing the Jews of congenital hard heartedness; while Marcionite Christianity placed Jews and Gentiles on an equal footing before the nonjudgmental higher God introduced by Jesus.

2. Paul and the Jerusalem Apostles

2 issues here: Paul’s apostleship and his relationship to the Jerusalem leaders.

Apostleship

To Marcion, Paul was the only true apostle and Peter and the other Jerusalem leaders were false apostles.

Acts disputes this divide by its technique of paralleling Peter and Paul. But the parallel is not complete. In Acts the title of apostle is almost exclusively confined to Peter and the Jerusalem leaders. Only twice does the term apostle appear in relation to Paul and Barnabas — Acts 14:4, 14.

Note however that 14:14 in the Western text (Codex Bezae) omits the word “apostles”, and if this is accepted as the original then we only have one reference to Paul as an apostle. Yet even here the word apostle is removed by many verses from the actual names of Paul and Barnabas. Tyson asks if this indicates a subtle distancing of the title from those names. Clark in Parallel Lives thinks the title apostle in Acts 14 serves to equate Paul and Barnabas with the other apostles, only in an an alternate geographical area.

But the author of Acts clearly defines the number of apostles as being limited to Twelve; and that to qualify for the title one must also have been a witness of Jesus from the beginning of his ministry to his resurrection. This clearly disqualifies Paul from the title. Is Paul simply being logically inconsistent? Tyson compares scholars approaching Acts without preconceived ideas about the author’s historical accuracies with their reluctance to presume he might be at least once logically inconsistent. They are willing to concede he is not always accurate in detail — why not also that he is not 100% consistent with his use of this title?

But Tyson comes down with a different bottom line explanation for this inconsistency found in Acts 14:4 (14). In a Marcionite context, the problem facing the author was not Paul’s apostleship but the apostleship of Peter and the Jerusalem leaders. He needed to rebut Marcion’s claim that the Jerusalem Twelve were not true apostles. His purpose was not to argue Paul’s apostleship but to prove that the Twelve were also apostles — to rehabilitate the Twelve. (Compare my earlier post on Tracing the evolution of the Twelve.)

To fulfill this task he “rehabilitated” the Twelve as the authorized bearers of tradition, and he showed that Paul was in every respect in line with them and at some points subservient to them. If he occasionally used the title apostle for Paul, this is only because of the fact that, despite his own definition that would exclude Paul from the group, he never doubted its appropriateness. We may regard the author of Acts as inconsistent at this point, but his inconsistency is understandable. (p.72)

Relationship with Jerusalem leaders

A major theme in Acts, the inclusion of Gentiles, is introduced by Peter. Not by Paul. Yet Paul is the primary leader of the gentile mission. So why is Peter chosen for the role of opening up this theme?

Tyson finds the answer at the conclusion of the lengthy and complex narrative of Peter’s conversion of Cornelius. The narrative concludes with Peter being required to have his actions authorized by the Jerusalem leaders, including the rest of the Twelve. This is important for the maintenance of one of the primary themes of Acts — internal harmony under the collective leadership of the Jerusalem apostles:

the story is not over until the Jerusalem apostles have agreed that Gentiles may be members of the community and that their admission will not create disharmony. (p.72)

It should also be noted that permission for the church to go to the gentiles came to Peter, the leader of the Twelve, and not to Paul, and that the first gentile was a lover of the Jews, observing their times of prayer and fearing their God. Tyson does not single out the point here, but God-fearer in the context of Cornelius here is a clear reference to the Jewish Creator God — the one rejected by Marcion as inferior in preference for the higher Alien God.

So the inclusion of the gentiles opens as a pro-Jewish act and is authorized by the Twelve before the story can continue.

The Acts 15 Jerusalem conference
See How Acts subverts Galatians for details. That a companion of Paul would subvert Galatians in this way is implausible. How could such a one put the words of Paul into the mouth of Peter, as in Acts 15:7-11? Tyson finds it hard to disagree with the Baur and the Tübingen school’s case that the author of Acts was attempting to rewrite history in order to promote a belief that there was harmony between the followers of Peter and those of Paul.

A Marcionite challenge that stressed the gulf between Paul and Jewish-Christians would explain why the author of Acts sought to rewrite the Galatians meeting the way he did. Unlike Marcion’s assertions based on Galatians, there was no rift between Peter and Paul. They were in complete harmony despite an initial hiccup. Paul left proclaiming the decrees ordained by the Jerusalem authorities (16:4), and gentiles and Jews were bound together even by certain (minimal) requirements from the Torah.

3. Paul as a faithful Jew and Pharisee

The Paul of the letters relegates his Pharisee identity to a dead past. Tyson sees the claims in Acts that Paul continued to think of himself as a Pharisee as anti-Marcionite propaganda. Acts also turns Paul’s speeches into anti-Marcionite proclamations: the relevance of the Hebrew Scriptures, the prophets and Jewish messianic expectations to Jesus.

Tyson sees a major objective of the trial scenes is to portray Paul as a Torah-abiding Jew:

Before the high priest he quotes from Exodus (Acts 23:5)
Before Felix he describes himself as a loyal Jew (24:14)
He calls attention to his preaching of the resurrection as a Jewish hope (24:15)
He emphasizes his return to Jerusalem to bring alms and make sacrifices in the temple (24:17)
He reminds us he was seized while in ritual of purification (24:17-18 )
Before Festus he says he has done nothing against the Jewish law or people (25:8, 10)
Before Agrippa and Bernice he proclaims at length his Jewish allegiance (26:4-8 )
He says he preaches nothing except what Moses and the prophets proclaimed (26:22) — a statement in direct opposition to what Marcion believed

The practices of Paul preceding these trial scene proclamations have prepared the reader for this portrayal of Paul:

Acts 16:1-3, the circumcision of Timothy — it is debatable whether this would have been performed by the Paul of the letters, but there is no doubt that this was in opposition to Marcion’s Paul. Marcion taught release from the God of the Torah, and from the Creator God of this (fleshly) world.
Acts 21:18-28, Paul’s arrival in Jerusalem — tells us there are multitudes of Christians there who are all zealous for the law (an impossible concept for Marcion); and that the accusations that Paul taught Jews to forsake the laws and customs are false, as evidenced by his compliance with the advice of James. The message to readers familiar with Marcionite teaching is that Marcion’s claims about Paul are false.
Compare also Acts 18:18 — cutting his hair because of a vow would have suggested a Jewish practice opposed to Marcionite teaching
And Acts 20:16 — Paul eager to be in Jerusalem for Pentecost. Again in opposition to Marcion’s Paul.

Tyson concludes his discussion of the characterization of Paul:

The characterization of Paul in Acts is internally consistent. He is a loyal Jew, obedient to Torah and faithful to Jewish practices. His message is that Jesus fulfills the words of the Hebrew prophets: he is the Messiah of Israel. Paul does not act unilaterally but only in harmony with Peter and the Jerusalem apostle. It is they who establish the authentic Christian tradition, and Paul neither adds to it nor subtracts from it. The characterization of Paul is also consistent with the major themes that the author used in writing Acts, among them: the order of the community; the internal harmony of the community; the community’s inclusion of Gentiles; Jewish rejection of the Christian message; and the community’s fidelity to Jewish traditions and practices. The author of Acts has made use of these characterizations and themes to produce an engaging narrative that responds, almost point by point, to the Marcionite challenge. Readers of Acts learn that the God of Jesus is the God of the Jews, that Jesus was the fulfillment of Jewish expectations as announced by the Hebrew prophets, and that the early Christian leaders continued to observe Torah and Jewish practices. (pp 75-76)

In other words, Tyson’s argument is that the question of reconciling the Paul of the letters with the Paul of Acts is the wrong question to ask. The problems that arise in attempting to answer it are the inevitable result. Acts is not addressing the letters of Paul per se, but addressing the Marcionite challenge and the use the Marcionites made of Paul’s letters. This hypothesis leads to a much tidier explanation of the way Paul is portrayed in Acts.

continued at this post

2008-02-01

Prison escapes in Acts — and the non-escape at the end

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by Neil Godfrey

Have just begun reading Plots of Epiphany: Prison-Escape in Acts of the Apostles by John Weaver. What persuaded me to pick this title up for my next read was its concluding chapter. Continue reading “Prison escapes in Acts — and the non-escape at the end”

Clark’s criteria for valid parallels (continuing Tyson on Marcion and Luke-Acts)

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by Neil Godfrey

Tyson draws on the criteria devised by Andrew Clark in his Parallel Lives to further his discussion of Peter’s and Paul’s characterization in Acts. (Have been discussing Tyson’s argument that our canonical Luke-Acts was largely a second century response to Marcionism.) Before continuing with notes from Tyson, am listing here Clark’s criteria. Continue reading “Clark’s criteria for valid parallels (continuing Tyson on Marcion and Luke-Acts)”

That “strange” end of Acts and its equally “strange” middle

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by Neil Godfrey

Revisiting Talbert’s “Literary Patterns” I was reminded of that ending of Acts that continues to bother sometimes. I’ve written on the endings before (see Endings post) and think that half of the problem is our literary tastes, matured on an evolving heritage long since distanced from its ancient roots, and the other half is our preconceived ideas about the theme and purpose of Acts having more to do with our sense of what the book should be about than with what the author may have had in mind. Continue reading “That “strange” end of Acts and its equally “strange” middle”

Luke’s Marcionite source for Paul’s Jerusalem and trial experiences?

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by Neil Godfrey

In Literary Patterns, Theological Themes, and the Genre of Luke-Acts (1974) Charles Talbert compiled lists totalling about 40 literary and narrative resonances between the Gospel of Luke and Acts. (He called them parallels back in 1974 but that word has since acquired for many a bad name — sometimes justifiably, but other times less so.)

From his comparisons of some of these he concluded that Luke had generally made changes sometimes to the gospel narrative he knew and sometimes to his narrative of Paul to make the two form a set of parallels to each other.

This explained, for example, why Luke’s narrative of Jesus included a hearing before Herod, thus giving him a total of 4 separate hearings (Sanhedrin – 22:26, Pilate – 23:1, Herod – 23:8, Pilate – 23:13) unlike the narratives found in the other gospels. Talbert indicates that Luke edited Mark’s gospel to write a narrative of Jesus’ Passion that conformed to events in Paul’s life. Compare Paul’s 4 trials: Sanhedrin – ch.23; Felix – ch.24; Festus – ch.25; Herod Agrippa – ch.26). But this is based not simply on the matching fourfold hearings. Within these Talbert points to distinctively Lucan additions to Mark’s narrative also being found in similar positions in Acts: the threefold declarations of innocence of the one on trial; the directly positive claim Jesus can be released; the crowds shouting “Away with this man”; the centurion proclaiming the one charged as “innocent”; et al.

Another example is Luke’s adding to Mark’s description of Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem a description of the way the crowds praised God for all the mighty works they had seen done through Jesus (Luke 19:37 – cf. Mark 11:1-10). Talbert notes how this corresponds with the reception Paul received when he also entered Jerusalem (Acts 21:17-20a).

Another change in Luke’s gospel is his removal of Mark’s reference to Jesus’ cursing of the fig tree. In Mark’s gospel, the fig tree episode strongly suggests Jesus’ rejection of and pronunciation of doom on the Temple. Luke deletes this, and gives readers a Jesus who stays entrenched in the Temple, preaching daily from it. (19:45-48). Talbert compares this with Paul’s favourable attitude toward the Temple. (e.g. Acts 21:26)

I would add here that this wish to have a less judgmental Jesus, one favourably disposed to the Temple in his efforts to save, not condemn, the Jews, may also have something to do with Luke’s changes to the Little Apocalypse. In place of Mark’s condemnation of a Temple being stained by the presence of an abomination he envisions “only” a city besieged by armies.

There are other points Talbert lists but this is enough to get the main idea of the case he argues.

But what if we relook at Talbert’s discussion of the strands linking the events in Paul’s life with those in Jesus’ last days in the light of recent studies on Luke and Acts that I have been summing up in bits and pieces in blog posts here?

Klinghardt has recently raised the possibility that canonical Luke’s gospel used Marcion’s gospel as one of its sources. See Marcion Enters the Synoptic Problem and subsequent follow up posts. Tyson argues that canonical Luke likewise was a reworking of Marcion’s gospel. See the Tyson and Marcion archives. Pervo also argues that Luke was a late document.

Given the possibilities raised by Kinghardt and Tyson in particular, one is justified in rethinking the sources Luke used for his last chapters of Acts.

The possibility is opened that Luke was modeling his Paul’s entry into Jerusalem and subsequent four-fold trial sequence on the life of Jesus as found in Marcion’s gospel.

In fact, given the absence of any other known source for Luke’s narrative here, this must be seen the most economical and plausible solution to the question of Luke’s sources for this phase of Paul’s career.

2008-01-29

The GOOD legacy of a fundamentalist and cultic life: 5

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by Neil Godfrey

Awareness of Mercy

Continuing from part 4 in this series . . . .

Next in Marlene’s list is “Awareness of Mercy”. While I found myself nodding in agreement I had to ask myself how such a legacy can come out of such a judgmental belief system.

But first, notes from Marlene’s discussion:

After reminding readers of the teachings about mercy (the command to forgive 70 times 7; removing the speck in your own eye first; not casting the first stone, etc) that necessarily hold a significant place in any Christian teaching, fundamentalism included, Marlene suggests that the ex-fundamentalist “probably retain[s] an openness and caring for people.” I would add that this is probably true for anyone who took their Christian teachings seriously to heart, and that fundamentalists generally take those teachings to heart more than many others. Even if the motive then was tinged with fear, at least this is undeniably a good legacy.

Human frailty, imperfection, and even serious misdeeds may evoke concern on your part instead of immediate judgment. This can make you a more whole, feeling person, with the potential for connecting with people on an emotional level, instead of relating simply to their overt behaviors. In other words, the other side of seeing human weakness is the tenderness you can have for others. You can assume they are struggling and “falling short of glory.” Your mercy is a needed quality in a world of harsh expectations and judgments.” (pp. 107-8)

It feels a little strange reading that again. It is impossible to really know how much of our character is innate and how much evoked by experiences. When I recollect my little “ex cult veterans support group” that included a motley array from diverse cults, we were able to talk as “brethren” — I think we did have a compassion not only for one another, understanding what we had each gone through, but that I am sure we all felt we had a similar compassion for our friends “left behind” and others “out there” who had not yet experienced what we had.

And in the fundamentalist or cultic church one does feel very close, bonded with a family bond even, to each other from all walks of life. Caring and understanding for others, and learning to live mercifully with others when they fail or even deeply offend you, is a daily part of what one strives to live for.

And when one leaves that mindset and “spiritual family” it gets even better. The walls are broken down between yourself and the rest of humanity. You now identify with collective humanity. And when one encounters the harsh and heartless one finds oneself, I am sure many times, reacting with an attempt to understand and to work with instead of against those people as much as possible. One often wants to understand others. The idea of “whose fault” something is, or the culture of “blame”, is distressing because of its unhelpfulness and the pain and strife it perpetuates.

That is the potential that I think is often there — following Marlene’s lead with this suggestion — and perhaps it is a little more accentuated than it otherwise might have been among others who have traveled the same path.

See the Winell archive for earlier posts in this series — and Marlene’s Recovery from Religion website.

The fallacy of argument ad verecundiam (to modesty?)

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by Neil Godfrey

The quaint Latin term might mean appeal to modesty but in plain English it refers to the fallacy of an appeal to authority.

This form of error is an egregious but effective technique which puts an opponent in the awkward position of appearing to commit the sin of pride if he persists in his opposition. (p.253)

Fischer (Historians’ Fallacies) discusses a 1950’s exchange among historians of modern history to illustrate that “the most crude and ugly form of an argument ad verecundiam in historical writing is an appeal to professional status.” I will cite here a more recent example.

In 2003 George Athas published a version of his 1999 doctoral thesis on the Tel Dan inscription — a 1993 archaeological find that was widely claimed to be the earliest extra-biblical evidence for the House of David. Two of the earliest reviews of this work were “most crude and ugly” indeed:

The authors hope is that his study will do much to quell the unhelpful passion and euphoria that have lured us all into emotional scholarship (319). Those are rather grand and pretentious aims for a doctoral dissertation . . . (Review in RBL 10/2003) by William M. Schniedewind University of California)

And a year later:

. . . . After a decade of extensive research, there was a feeling among scholars that the study of the inscription had reached fruition and that no significant advance could be made, unless more fragments were found in the excavations.

It is against this background that the book under review should be evaluated. The book, a rework of a dissertation submitted to the University of Sydney in 1999, deals with some aspects (notably the epigraphical, paleographical, and textual analysis) in such detail as could be done only in a doctoral dissertation. Considering that Athas is a beginning young scholar, the book is pretentious in the extreme. Athas believes that his study will do much to quell the unhelpful passion and euphoria that the Tel Dan Inscription has evoked among scholars and interested persons alike (319). — (Review in RBL 10/2004 by Nadav Naaman, Tel Aviv University)

I once wrote:

There are many reasons . . . to believe that Acts was composed [as] a later reaction against Marcionism.

No more, just an invitation to discuss the evidence if my debating partner was willing to go there. But his reply was an interesting shut down with his appeal to “modesty” and by inference “my arrogance” for even making such a claim:

That might be a fun debate. … {g} You do realize that such a position (about Acts) goes directly up against evaluations by Adoph Von Harnack and JAT Robertson (among many others on all sides of the theological spectrum, some of them no more poster-boys for Christian “dogmatism” than those two were), right?

In other words, my correspondent was demonstrating a complete lack of interest in what “many reasons” there might possibly be, preferring instead to rest on the works generally cited as authorities. Authority of the names alone was sufficient. The question was recast from one of evidence and reason to one of attitude: of presumed modesty versus a presumption of arrogance.

One might even call it an attempt at “intellectual bullying”.

A favourite arena where this tactic is found is where individuals outside the academy raise questions or challenge paradigms that have long been seen as the special preserve of the academy. Obviously some of those questions and alternate proposals are kooky. But academia does itself — nor the public to whom one would expect it to feel some sense of responsibility — any favours by arrogant appeals “to modesty”.

Fischer concludes:

In historiography, such crude forms of argument ad verecundiam are rarely to be met with — in print, at least. [He was writing in 1970 — before online discussion groups and wikis.] The explanation is not that scholars are gentlemen, but rather, as Bolingbroke noted many years ago, that “those who are not such, however, have taken care to appear such in their writings.”

The above examples demonstrate that Fischer’s observations do not necessarily apply in our times of public online journal reviews and discussions.

P.S.

there exists online another review of Athas’s study sans the “modesty” by Daniel Miller (2007) in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures.

The fallacy of the prevalent proof

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by Neil Godfrey

David Hackett Fischer back in 1970 in his Historian’s Fallacies: Toward a Logic of Historical Thought, discussed this fallacy one sometimes encounters in discussions of the history of early Christian origins and biblical studies.

It refers to using widespread opinion as a method of verification. Often I’ve noticed this coupled with an argument “from authority” where well known historians’ names will be called on as examples of some who have expressed or assumed a widely accepted opinion or “fact” as if that adds empirical weight to something that has never been methodically investigated.

Fischer notes that cultural anthropologists have found this practice among certain tribes such as the Kuba. History, for them, is whatever their majority declares to be true. But Fischer’s point is that anthropologists would also find the same practice among some quarters in our history departments.

The best known example of something very close to this among biblical students and scholars is the Jesus Seminar with its method of voting in order to issue colour rankings to indicate how many or how few believed certain passages in the gospels were authentic sayings, or deeds, of Jesus. While the Seminar scholars may have explained the nature and real significance of their voting and colour coding scheme, the simple fact of voting to and grading passages accordingly is curious. Why not simply leave the various arguments themselves to speak for themselves? A ranking system based on counting votes obviously will only serve to perpetuate the laziness, and fallacy, of relying on a majority opinion for verification. And if a few prominent names can be linked to some of the votes (not the reasonings and assumptions) then all the “more certainly factual” one can misguidedly feel one’s argument is.

But one encounters this fallacy in many more areas than those discussions that call on the findings of the Jesus Seminar.

Few scholars have failed to bend, in some degree, before the collective conceits of their colleagues. Many have established a doubtful question by a phrase such as “most historians agree . . .” or “it is the consensus of scholarly opinion that . . .” or “in the judgment of all serious students of this problem. . . .” (p.52)

Fischer cites one example where a historian wrote in relation to the role of dope in early industrial England, “every historian of the period knows that it was common practice at the time for working mothers to start the habit in the cradle by dosing their hungry babies on laudanum . . .” Yet although this statement was often made and widely believed it had apparently never at the time been established by empirical evidence.

When an historian asserts that “X has not been extensively investigated,” he sometimes means, “I have not investigated X at all.”

When leaving my erstwhile faith I asked questions, and kept asking further questions about any answers I got to the first questions. This was not from nihilistic scepticism but from a determination not to be bitten again. I hated it when I asked on an academic discussion group the evidence for, say, that a particular passage in Josephus not being a completely 100% forgery, and being directed to a text that listed numbered points claiming to be reasons — no argument, nothing new at all that I had not already studied and found based on questionable logic or in defiance of stronger counter-arguments. It soon became apparent that many scholars themselves who gave such answers had never checked for themselves with due methodical enquiry the many “facts” on which they based their hypotheses and arguments.

Not that that particular point was a major one in the grand scheme of things, but it sticks in my mind since it was the answer I was given by a widely respected academic repeatedly, and in a context of arrogant dismissal if anyone found cause to “quibble” with such a list of dot points on a page of a text by such “an authority”.

But this fallacy is found across the spectrum. Fundamentalists may laugh at the Jesus Seminar with its voting, but one also regularly encounters their appeals to “majority opinion” among scholars who are from the same theological camp.

A fact which every historian knows is not inherently more accurate than a fact which every schoolboy knows. Nevertheless, the fallacy of the prevalent proof commonly takes this form — deference to the historiographical majority. It rarely appears in the form of an explicit deference to popular opinion. But implicitly, popular opinion exerts its power too. A book much bigger than this one could be crowded with examples.

Fischer gives one popular example: the notion that Mussolini made the trains run on time. Fischer cites a work by Montagu and Darling testifying to the mythical nature of this “widely known fact”. In biblical studies one might in many cases substitute popular theology or religious beliefs for popular opinion.

2008-01-28

Missing a real Peter in Acts

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by Neil Godfrey

Crazy as it might sound to some, there is simply no biographical information about Peter in the book of Acts. Every story told in relation to Peter has a miracle as its absolute base. In other words, remove the mythical element from each anecdote concerning Peter and there is nothing left. It is not as though the author has tagged a miracle on to some biographical detail of Peter’s life to give it sparkle, as we sometimes find in genuine biographies. There is simply no Peter apart from the mythical in this book.

Episode 1: Reconstituting the Twelve

If Mark’s gospel was the first, and if we concede the arguments that Judas was Mark’s literary creation, then the arguments that this event which Peter leads is a theological construct than a dedication to historical sources are surely strengthened. The way Judas is placed in Mark’s gospel is without narrative coherence (e.g. Jesus was well enough known not to need one of his disciples to point him out, no motive is given to explain his betrayal. . . .), appearing to be unnaturally introduced into the story simply to make the plot work. If there ever were a body of Twelve based at Jerusalem and recognized as eyewitnesses of Jesus and authoritative guardians of the original faith, Paul’s, and even Acts’, failures to appeal to them for dispute resolution is inexplicable. The names of the Twelve vary in different writings, as happens with free-floating legends, and they are little known except as an abstraction beyond the canonical documents until the later second century. If, as Bauckham affirms, the most solid basis for believing their existence to be historical is found in Meier’s study, they have precious little substantial foundation indeed. (See my post on Meier’s discussion of the evidence for the Twelve.)

But even apart from the implausibility of the existence of the Twelve, and of an historical Judas who occasions this scene in Acts, the story itself climaxes with an act of God demonstrating the continuity of the church on Pentecost with the earlier Mosaic tradition. The meaning of the story is bound up in the casting of lots to ascertain the divine will (as per Aaronic practice) in order to establish the divine appointment of the Twelve. The author portrays this as a direct act of God without which Peter’s role would be meaningless. Readers are left without any biographical or historical story in association with this divine act. There is no discussion of Peter’s relationship with the Twelve, or feedback on the discussions and concerns that one would expect among the players in the context. The is interested in nothing more than proof-texting from Scriptures and describing an act of God for his readers. There is no history, no biography here.
We can safely hold the first anecdote in which Peter is the focus in abeyance pending further support for its historicity.

Episode 2: Pentecost

Peter’s function here in chapter 2 of Acts is to act as the interpreter of the public miracle of the sound of wind, tongues of fire, and miracle of linguistic communication. He is used as the mouthpiece for assuring both real audience and his narrative audience that all that is happening to the disciples in Jerusalem is a direct fulfilment of prophecy. His preaching is so effective that 3000 Jews turn around from fickle Christ-crucifiers to a converted utopian community of believers.

Again, not surprisingly in such a scene, there is no background historical or biographical description or discussion. What you read is all there is: a tale of the miraculous and its theological meaning.

We are still no nearer to knowing anything of a man Peter. We know about scriptural fulfilments and miracles, but nothing about real people and history.

Episode 3: Miracle and Sanhedrin

In Peter’s first miracle (Acts 3) there is no detail offered that is not integral to the miracle story itself. In the subsequent arrest and interrogation before the Sanhedrin where one might hope for some enlightenment of an historical exchange for us to better glimpse the real historical goings on in the early church, and its relations with Jewish authorities, there is again nothing. Only a discussion that pivots around the performing of a miracle and the theological message it conveys.

Unless one believes that life, history, and the interventions of the divine were quite unlike anything we know today, then there is no news about history or a real Peter here either. And if we did believe that, then to be fair we’d have to have pretty good grounds for accepting that things were only validly different for the “peoples of the Book” and not for pagans who also experienced miracles and interventions of deities.

Episode 4: Striking liars dead and healing with a shadow

No discussion is required concerning Peter’s appearance in the Ananias and Sapphira incident. Fortunately we can safely assume that these two were not struck dead at a word from Peter’s mouth, any more than we will assume that his shadow really did heal the sick.

But what we are looking for is something else beside these tall tales that might suggest some genuine biographical source. Unfortunately, there is nothing but the tall tales.

Episode 5: Prison break out and another interrogation

Peter is imprisoned with the others but an angel miraculously releases them. Hardly a basis for a presumption of historicity. Unless the angel did intervene the story would lose its meaning. It is intended to amuse the audiences as they find opportunity to snicker at the trembling guards and authorities who are at a loss to comprehend their freedom. No miracle or angel, no story. That is, the miracle is not tacked on to an historical event. The miracle is presented as the central historical event.

Again one might hope for some survival of sources to seep through to the telling of the official interrogation that follows, but this session is narratively a sequel to the earlier one that was itself a direct consequence of a miracle. If some do see some historical source behind the account of Gamaliel’s advice, it unfortunately throws no light on an historical Peter.

Episode 6: A real event?

The dispute between 2 groups over handouts sounds plausible enough. It’s the sort of incident one would expect to read about in a new community working out its ways. But if this is the first whiff we have of something that reads like history, it is not only very generalized and sweeping in its account, — it also finds Peter completely out of sight.

Episode 7: Putting super magicians in their place

Peter’s encounter with Simon Magus is obviously designed to demonstrate the superiority of Peter to this Samaritan would-be rival. The dialogue is tailored to pronounce doom on this arch-heretic and to depict the victim as cowering and begging for mercy in response. The theological and political message underlying the anecdote is obvious. Peter stands for the theological and political message. There is nothing else of Peter here. The account of Simon is so cryptic it serves to raise questions rather than enlighten. It tells us more about Simon than Peter and it drapes Simon himself beneath an impenetrable shroud. If Simon here is a substitute for Paul as some have argued (Detering), then Peter likewise is as much a metonym.

Episode 8: Aeneas and Dorcas

As the plot of Acts advances toward the full inclusion of gentiles, Peter is found performing miracles firstly on the namesake of the Romans, Aeneas, and secondly on one nicknamed Deer. One miracle is at a place that reads like a homonym for Lydia — from where the Romans traced their descent; the other at Joppa, from where Jonah embarked on his (unintended) way to preach to the gentile Assyrians. Both miracles are obvious re-writes of miracles already attributed to Jesus and Elijah and Elisha. The symbolic nature of the stories, and their clear literary borrowing, is enough to attribute them to authorial imagination and creativity.

But of course, Peter here is placed in no historical or biographical context. He is nothing more than the agent of the miracles — which obviously are what the anecdotes are about. Not Peter.

Episode 9: Vision and Cornelius

Here the author gives us some detailed narrative fillers for Peter as a character. But that’s all — only narrative filler. More dialogue as opposed to monologue, more detail about where he is and what he’s doing and how he’s feeling (e.g. on a roof, sleepy, hungry). Unfortunately, it’s not the sort of detail that will help a historian or biographer learn anything about the real man. There is no discussion, as one would expect in a document if it were aiming at recording and instructing in an historical past, of the viewpoints within the Church or among its leaders on the issue of Jewish customs. There is only one person discussed, and that’s Peter himself. He is being used to inform readers how of a “Just-So” story of how the church came to be made up of gentiles. There is no discussion of the different persons who must have been involved in any such real event. But we know it is not a real event because its plot hinges squarely on 2 miraculous visions and then another miracle of a visible display of the descent of the spirit.

Episode 10: Last jail break

Just like in a Greek play about a mythical character, this near-final scene of Peter’s tells us nothing about a real event, let alone a real person. I sometimes think it would have been a nice touch if the author had added that Peter sent condolences to the families of the guards who were executed as a result of his escape. “I’m very sorry about what happened to your Brutus and Cassius back there, but with that angel coming in and striking chains in two and swinging iron gates open with just a look I was too frightened to do anything but run like the blazes. It’s a real shame our God does not have more pity for you pagans.”

Episode 11: Summing up

Finally at the Jerusalem council in Acts 15 Peter makes his last appearance. But all he does is repeat a litany of miracles.

Missing the real Peter

From first to last, there is no real Peter, no historical material. There is only miracle and theology, of which Peter is a mouthpiece or agent.

And this Peter of narrative is different from the Peter of the epistle to the Galatians. He is also different from the Peter in the gospel of Mark, and again from the one in the gospels of John and Matthew.

Like Paul, he is a Protean figure who can be turned into whatever the narrator cum theologian requires.

Dating the Book of Acts: Marcionite Context 2 — and beyond

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by Neil Godfrey

Continued from Dating Acts: Marcionite context . . . (see also Tyson and Marcion archives)

After attempting a form of controlled analysis for determining the main themes and their supporting literary patterns in Acts, and arguing that the results are best explained as a response to the Marcionite challenge, Tyson examines the characterizations of Peter and Paul in Acts to see if they also are best explained the same way.

Tyson leaves what I think is a major gap in his discussion of how the author presented Peter in Acts but I’ll leave that discussion till after outlining Tyson’s argument.

Characterization of Peter

There is no subtlety in how the author of Acts portrays this leading apostle. We all know Peter is the leader — (Tyson specifies that he is depicted as the leader of the church at Jerusalem), miracle-worker, bold and convincing speaker before rulers and converting crowds of thousands (2:41), taking the initiative in reconstituting the Twelve in the wake of the demise of Judas, interpreter of divinely sent visions (10:28 ) and miracles (2:14-16). Sinners drop dead (5:1-11) or beg for mercy (8:20-24) at his word and his mere shadow heals the cripples (5:20). Not even prison chains and guards can hold him (12:8-10).

But Tyson asks, if the author knew the epistles of Paul, why did he portray Peter this way? In Galatians Paul portrays a Peter who is unstable, very much “unleaderlike” — I would add, as much more akin to the Peter of the synoptic gospels. There Jesus had to regularly correct him; in Galatians Paul assumes that role.

Tyson asks if it is possible the author of Acts derived his alternative image of Peter from 1 Clement, thought to be written near the end of the first century. (Tyson, of course, is arguing for a second century date for canonical Luke-Acts.) That document elevates both Paul and Peter to leadership status, and speaks of Peter’s sufferings. But there is no indication of his relationship to the Jerusalem church or of his role as a prominent preacher and witness there.

Tyson believes that the best explanation for the way Peter is drawn in Acts is the Marcionite context. Marcion relied exclusively on the letters of Paul, and declared the other apostles, including Peter, to be false apostles. Paul seems to be referring to the Jerusalem apostles in 2 Corinthians 11:1-15 when he criticizes those known as “super apostles”, whom he calls “false apostles”, implying they were preaching a “different gospel” (cf Gal.1:6-7).

Tyson argues that a Marcionite challenge would have provided the perfect foil for the way the author of Acts accounted for Peter.

He was answering the charge that Peter

was an unreliable and false apostle
was not a dependable witness to the faith — nor even the resurrection (Marcion’s gospel apparently disputed Peter’s witness of this)

and, it should be added, also answering the charge that Jerusalem was the birth place and base of this false witness and gospel.

A question — the limits of the anti-Marcion hypothesis?

While I like the idea of canonical Luke-Acts being a response to Marcionism, I cannot avoid a problem when it comes to Tyson’s discussion of Peter in support of this. If Acts was composed so late, then surely the author knew of the gospel of Matthew. And if, as Tyson’s argument goes, the same author heavily redacted Luke to become a companion volume to Acts, then why would he have omitted any reference in his gospel to Jesus’ promise to give the keys of heaven to Peter and use him as a foundation stone for his church (Matt.16:18)?

This passage in Matthew would surely have served as the most direct challenge conceivable to Marcionism.

If Matthew was written as a response to the “Paulinism” many see in Mark (compare Matthew’s heavy emphasis on obedience to a law more binding than that of Moses in the Sermon on the Mount, Matt 23, etc.) one might easily see Matthew’s depiction of Peter’s confession as a direct rebuff to the name and authority of Paul.

If the author of Acts intended to show that Paul stood subordinate to the Twelve then surely this claim about the leader of the Twelve would have found a prominent place in the debate.

The broader catholicizing agenda of Acts — embracing James, and group work, too?

To me the best explanation is that while Marcionism might have been a/the prime challenge that its author was addressing, it was not the only one. Marcionites looked to Paul as The (Sole) Apostle. But there were others who looked to James. Indeed, Paul’s letter to the Galatians appears to acknowledge James as the leader of the Jerusalem community by naming him first among the pillars there.

The Gospel of Thomas informs believers that James is the primary focal point of the church on earth. It was even believed among some Christian quarters that God willed the destruction of Jerusalem because of the martyrdom of James. And James was undeniably a representative of a form of Jewish Christianity.

The author of Acts obviously had no problem with allowing James to assume the leadership of the Jerusalem church. Presumably this was because James represented the same Jewish flavoured Christianity as Peter also represented and that stood in opposition to Marcionism .

But there was more than the inclusion of those Christians who looked to James at work here.

Peter does not wield Matthew’s keys to the kingdom of heaven willy nilly — or ever at all, really, in Acts.

In the appointment of Matthias to fill the twelfth position Peter may initiate the action, but the action is carried out by the collective as they roll the dice while praying to God. Matthias is not added by Peter, but by God, through the acceptance of “the Twelve”.
Peter’s first dramatic miracles are performed in partnership with John (3:1, 12).
Similarly in the appointment of the Seven. Peter is not seen there. It is the Twelve who summon the community and give directions for how they were to appoint the new leaders.
Philip and others are used to first push the ethnic boundaries of the church by evangelizing among the Samaritans and to an Ethiopian.
And in the conversion of the Centurion, Peter is confused at first, not knowing what the vision he has just seen means. He has to explain both to the centurion’s household that he is letting God decide how things turn out and what they mean.
And after that moment, he is summoned to give an account of his actions to those “of the circumcision”, presumably among both the apostles and brethren (Acts 11:1-3).

Peter is a leader — even THE leader in the early chapters of Acts. But he is not the sole leader of the Jerusalem community. The author of Acts is stressing the significance of not only Peter, but of the authority of the Twelve with Peter, and even of James eventually.

Justin Martyr is witness, in Trypho, that at the time of Marcion, other well entrenched traditions throughout the Christian “philosophy” included the belief that its beginnings could be traced to The Twelve at Jerusalem, and that among those Christians were those who followed Jewish customs, and that these were to be accepted as brethren, too.

Canonical Luke-Acts comfortably fits in such an environment.

Matthew 16:18 could well have been a response too much in the faces of those the author of canonical Luke-Acts wanted to embrace. It could serve well in a power conflict between West and East. But it risked supplanting the idea of the Twelve as an authoritative foundation from Jerusalem. Note that Matthew even concluded his gospel with some of the Twelve (or Eleven) doubting the resurrection.

To continue with the characterization of Paul . . . .

2008-01-25

Tracing the evolution of the Twelve Apostles from monkey rejects to angelic pillars.

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

by Neil Godfrey

The three rejects — Paul

Paul in his letter to the Galatians equates the namesakes of the three leading apostles in Mark (Cephas/Peter?, James and John) as holding an unimpressive rank in his eyes (Gal. 2:6), and who became the leaders of the hypocrites at Antioch (Gal. 2:13), and were thus cursed teachers of “another gospel” (cf Gal. 2:14 with Gal. 1:7-9).

In other letters, particularly in the Corinthian correspondence, Paul continues to attack false apostles “from the Jews” who claim to be imbued with the spirit of Christ and perform miracles and have visions (cf 1 Cor. 9, 2 Cor. 11-12). One is reminded of the manner in which Acts portrays Peter. 1 Corinthians 15 does claim the Twelve, and Peter, were witnesses of the resurrected Christ (just as was Paul — 1 Cor. 15:5, 8 ) but given this passage’s contrary theological tone to Galatians, the arguments of other studies that see here an interpolation do deserve attention.

The twelve failures — Mark’s gospel

This appears to be our earliest narrative involving the twelve disciples or twelve apostles and it presents the Twelve as disastrous failures. They are a negative lesson to readers: Don’t be like them! Peter’s name, meaning rocky, is more obviously associated with the rocky soil in the parable of the sower, than with any foundational stone (Talbert). Jesus called him Satan and in almost the same breath warned anyone who was too ashamed to admit to knowing Jesus would be a reject in the kingdom (Mark 8:33-38). This assigns Peter with his threefold denial to the same league as Judas. The disciples fled in fear from Jesus at his arrest and the women fled fearfully from Jesus’ tomb soon afterwards. The only resurrection appearance known to Mark will be at the second coming, although Jesus can be found before then in metaphorical Galilee.

The twelve failures — Marcion’s gospel

Given my recent posts on the position of Marcion in relation to the Synoptic Problem and the arguments for redating both Marcion and the gospels (see my Marcion archive), I can’t help but throw this one in here at this point. Marcion’s gospel must have been like Mark’s in several respects (Hoffmann), in particular with its negative portrayal of the disciples. Many see in Mark a Pauline theology, and Marcion himself thought of Paul as the sole Apostle and the original disciples of Jesus as remaining in their ignorance to the end. They went on to become false apostles, teaching another gospel from the one preached by Paul.

Getting there, at least for some — Gospel of Matthew

Matthew’s gospel is the first to redeem some of the Twelve. Matthew was the first to divide and conquer the Twelve to bring them into the service of furthering (as opposed to denying and fleeing from) his own gospel.

Judas was singled out as the arch villain. The detailed narrative of his attempt to undo his betrayal and subsequent suicide deflected blame from the group as a whole.

Peter was the first to be securely established. He was the leader for heaven’s sake so if he couldn’t make it what hope was there for any of them. And Matthew redeems with a wallop. He turns rocky soil into a pillar-rock, a foundation stone, beside Jesus Christ himself (Matt. 16:18). He is even given the keys to heaven, and the buoyancy to walk momentarily on water! This was Matthew’s vital contribution — setting up Peter apparently in opposition to Paul. Matthew’s emphasis throughout his gospel on the necessity of the law, indeed on exceeding the requirements of the law, would seem to confirm this analysis.

Matthew sends Jesus himself to speak to Mark’s women fearfully running from the tomb to tell them to stop being frightened and to tell the disciples where to meet him in Galilee. They do, and the disciples do catch up with Jesus on a mountain in Galilee.

But while the teasing apart of the Twelve from Judas was an important step, it was not sufficient. Matthew makes it clear that at Jesus’ resurrection appearance only some of them believed. Some doubted (Matt. 28:17).

More mixed bags — other gospels

Some of the noncanonical gospels appear to follow in Matthew’s wake and assign different levels of comprehension, if not faithfulness, to different names among the Twelve. The Gospel of Thomas — possibly predating Matthew — and the Gospel of Mary are two of the better known ones. But there is also some question about the Gospel of John. It is by no means certain where John fits in the canonical trajectory. Some (Matson, Shellard) date it earlier than Luke and even as one of Luke’s sources. It may be significant that John’s gospel states that only seven apostles were present at Jesus’ final resurrection appearance in Galilee.

All Twelve get there in the end — Justin Martyr

Justin appears to be our earliest noncanonical source to inform us that all Twelve disciples from the very day of Christ’s resurrection were granted a collective meeting with their freshly reconstituted Jesus, and from that moment they (all 12) went out to all the world preaching the gospel. (See links to my grid outlining Justin’s knowledge of the gospel narrative in my Justin archive.)

Justin has some knowledge of the top three (Peter, James and John — cf Paul’s namesakes above) being given their special sobriquets; and from the way he depicts all Twelve picking up with Jesus immediately the day of his resurrection, he gives the very strong appearance of having no inkling of a Judas character and role among them. There is certainly no 40 day period from the day of the resurrection to the date they set to leave Palestine to evangelize the world, which would be the minimum required if Justin had ever read and attributed any importance to Acts. Justin informs his readers that the Twelve were confronted by the resurrected Jesus the day of his resurrection and from that moment went out preaching to the world. Almost at the same time Rome sent in her armies to overthrow the Jewish king Herod, who was thus the last of the kings of Judah. And quite appropriately too, now that the Messiah had come — as per the prophecy of Jewish scriptures. One notes that Justin is guided in his “knowledge” of history by his faith in his reading of prophecies. There was, of course, 40 years from the time of Pilate to the time of the Jewish war.

But what is of significance here is that Justin speaks of the Twelve as if they are a formal entity from the time of Jesus, and he does so with no clear reference to any of our canonical gospels or Acts. There is no Judas, no waiting till Pentecost, no waiting in Jerusalem or conversions of thousands of Jews as per Acts at all. Indeed, it is at the time of Jesus’ resurrection appearance that he appears to introduce the eucharist and all the rest of the church ordinances. Justin appears to know of no “narrative” as such – only a mechanistic function of the Twelve in relation to how the Christian movement was instituted and spread.

It is also significant that Justin knows, and is heatedly opposed to, Marcion. Marcion opposed the “Judaistic” type of Christianity Justin stood for. Justin found Christ in the Jewish scriptures, through an allegorical or typological reading of them. Justin found “historical” authority in the Jewish scriptures through the Twelve apostles who had seen the risen Jesus and relayed his gospel to the world. Marcion claimed that the Twelve were, rather, false apostles standing in opposition to the true gospel revealed to Paul.

Make that the “Number” 12 that gets there — Luke-Acts

Luke is the first canonical author who is particularly precious about the precise number — Twelve — all surviving to become the witnesses of Jesus. He has to deal with Judas as a result of his predecessors Mark and Matthew depicting him as the most obvious renegade. It is doubtful that Mark saw much difference between the first (Peter) and last (Judas) named in his list of apostles, as alluded to above. But Matthew and Luke played up Judas as an arch villain unlike any of the others. Matthew’s Judas takes upon himself full responsibility by his display of remorse and suicide; Luke’s Judas is possessed by Satan. Their special treatment (scapegoating) of Judas in effect exculpated the remaining Eleven.

When Luke’s Jesus appears to the remaining Eleven there happen to be a number of others with them (Luke 24:33). Thus the reader is prepared for Acts where the “apostolic office” of Judas must be reoccupied, and the necessary qualification is that such a one be a witness of the resurrection. Luke devotes the better part of an entire chapter to describing step by step how the Judas position among the Twelve was replaced.

The number Twelve — in their full complement — was important to Luke. (It was also important to the author of 1 Corinthians 15:5, who was almost certainly someone living long after Paul.)

And it was taken for granted by Justin.

And as the number of true apostolic witnesses of Jesus and the gospel it stood in opposition to Marcion.

The Twelve finally fully co-opted

Tyson’s, and Hoffmann’s, arguments that Luke-Acts was a product of a controversy between orthodoxy and Marcionism in the first half of the second century seems to me to fit neatly into what appears to be an evolving role for the Twelve. The earliest “proto-orthodox” gospel, insofar as it acknowledged a significant role for the Jewish scriptures in relation to Jesus, was Mark’s. Mark’s was a Pauline gospel that, as we find in Paul’s letters themselves, denigrated and denounced the Twelve.

Marcion agreed with Mark’s interpretation of the Twelve, but would not concede Mark’s interpretation of the relevance of the Jewish scriptures. (I think. Though this is something I’m still trying to work through.) Mark would not be the only renegade in Marcion’s ambit. Apelles was another to later depart from some of his teacher’s doctrines. (cf Paul’s Apollos??)

Matthew was the first to respond acidly against Mark (and Marcion?) with his pro-law, even “exceedingly” pro-law, gospel. And this involved the conversion of the leader Peter from rocky dirt to foundation stone. And since up till Matthew’s time Peter, James and John had been singled out as the most notable leaders of the Jerusalem based church, Matthew also focused on establishing those three, or particularly one of them, as their stable leader. Even James and John were redeemed insofar as Matthew rewrote Mark’s story about their vain approach to Jesus to ask to be his chief agents in the kingdom. Matthew turned this around so that it was their interfering mother who did the dirty, thus no doubt embarrassing the Jesus-sandals off them in the process (Matt. 20: 20).

We know from Justin’s mention of the name Marcion that he was a contemporary. And we have, I believe, strong grounds for seeing canonical Luke-Acts as also a product of the time of orthodoxy’s maturing battle with Marcionism (see the Tyson and Marcion archives). Both Justin and Luke-Acts speak with one voice of the role of the Twelve as the orthodox foundation upon the ultimate foundation of Jesus himself.

Justin could mention and denounce the name of Marcion, but he had not a negative word about the Twelve who represented the alternative to Paul’s/Marcion’s teaching. Justin could or would not mention the name of Paul.

Luke would rehabilitate Paul by recasting him as a moderate or liberal “Judaizer” subordinate to the Twelve. But he could never mention Marcion. He accepted the blemished legacy of the Twelve from Mark and Matthew, and made full amends in the opening of his second volume.

I can only guess the authors’ specific rationales behind each rung of the ladder leading the Twelve from ignominy to foundational status.

But given the current widely accepted relative datings of Paul’s epistles, Mark, Matthew and Luke-Acts at least, and perhaps Justin Martyr, that there was such an evolution and gradual rehabilitation, or more likely co-option, of the Twelve, does seem likely. Yes?

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Neil Godfrey on The Conquest of Canaan: Observations of a Philologist: “An excellent “longue durée” view of the history of Palestine, with its rhythmic rises and falls of settlements, is Keith…” Sep 21, 23:17
Neil Godfrey on Why Joseph Atwill’s Caesar’s Messiah is “Type 2” mythicism: “The view that the gospels of Mark and Luke are based on Paul’s mission is a speculative theory and I…” Sep 21, 21:04
Stephen Ballard on Why Joseph Atwill’s Caesar’s Messiah is “Type 2” mythicism: “Neil said: “In the Gospel of Mark it likewise represents a place of demons, death, — a place Jesus traverses…” Sep 21, 15:51
Stephen Ballard on Why Joseph Atwill’s Caesar’s Messiah is “Type 2” mythicism: “Luke 5:1-21 (Mark 1:17) This is a parable for Peter and the other Jewish believers at first following Paul in…” Sep 21, 15:40
Steve Ruis on The Conquest of Canaan: Observations of a Philologist: “Thank you for this! I was convinced before reading the above that the Israelites were Canaanites who fled the coast…” Sep 21, 12:44
Neil Godfrey on Problems Dating Israel’s Exodus and Conquest of Canaan: “very clever 🙂” Sep 20, 23:23
Gustavo Rubén Bessolo on Problems Dating Israel’s Exodus and Conquest of Canaan: “Speaking of traditions and sacred texts, and although it is slightly off topic, have you read this? Reductio ad absurdum…” Sep 20, 22:40
Russell Gmirkin on Problems Dating Israel’s Exodus and Conquest of Canaan: “Sorry about any 1:30 AM typos.” Sep 20, 08:30
Russell Gmirkin on Problems Dating Israel’s Exodus and Conquest of Canaan: ““Nor can we explain the Global Resurrection and Last Judgment doctrines of Second Temple Judaism as the product of the…” Sep 20, 08:28

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Altered states of consciousness — the genesis of religion?

The spectrum of consciousness

Shamanism

Brain wiring creates the upper-lower spirit world cosmos

Beyond Paleolithic cave art

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The Cyropaedia by Xenophon – the first historical novel

The power of the historical novel format

That eternally persuasive “historically-true” story of Atlantis

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1. Paul’s Missionary Method

2. Paul and the Jerusalem Apostles

Apostleship

Relationship with Jerusalem leaders

3. Paul as a faithful Jew and Pharisee

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Awareness of Mercy

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Episode 1: Reconstituting the Twelve

Episode 2: Pentecost

Episode 3: Miracle and Sanhedrin

Episode 4: Striking liars dead and healing with a shadow

Episode 5: Prison break out and another interrogation

Episode 6: A real event?

Episode 7: Putting super magicians in their place

Episode 8: Aeneas and Dorcas

Episode 9: Vision and Cornelius

Episode 10: Last jail break

Episode 11: Summing up

Missing the real Peter

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Characterization of Peter

A question — the limits of the anti-Marcion hypothesis?

The broader catholicizing agenda of Acts — embracing James, and group work, too?

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