Collectanea Christiana Orientalia 20 (2023): 97-142

Christa Müller-Kessler
Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena

Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests

from the Cairo Geniza:
A Comprehensive List of Christian Palestinian
Aramaic Texts 1

Background

The unearthing of many texts in the Genizah of the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo opened a
vast field of research in many disciplines like religious, language, and palaeographic studies.
Naturally most of the textual material contains Jewish religious text material, but many
other genres have been among them (medical, juridical, magical). In the beginning, the
most important and sensational texts were picked out and issued in perfunctory
publications. One of the unique finds was the Hebrew text of the Book of Ben Sira, which
was gleaned from the Agnes Smith Lewis and Margaret Dunlop Gibson acquisitions by
Solomon Schechter,2 but there have been many other unforeseen surprises and novelties,
especially for the Jewish Rabbinic text corpus like witnesses of the Fragmentary Palestinian
Targum, Babylonian and Palestinian Talmud, Mishnah tractates, Bereshit Rabbah, and
Midrashim. Paul Kahle aptly remarked: “Not every fragment is of equal importance. But
sometimes a fragment may greatly increase in value if published and studied in connexion
with the available material of similar kind, and finally a systematic investigation of the
whole material of a special kind may lead to historical discoveries and to important
conclusions and may prove of much greater value than the publication of single fragments
from the Geniza”.3 Meanwhile these early publications have been reworked and edited in

1 For the abbreviations of the cited literature, see the list at the end. Note that only in case more than one
article comes from the same journal the issue number has been added.
2 First publications of fragments can be found in Solomon Schechter and Charles Taylor, The Wisdom of Ben
Sira (Cambridge: University Press 1899); Arthur Ernest Cowley and Adolf Neubauer, The Original Hebrew
of a Portion of Ecclessiaticus (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1897); Israel Levi, “Fragments de deux nouveaux
manuscrits hébreux de l’Ecclésiatique”, Revue des Études juives 40 (1900), pp. 1-30.
3 Paul Kahle, The Cairo Geniza. The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy 1941 (London: Oxford University
Press, 1947), p. 19.
 Christa Müller-Kessler

new publications. The text material has been and still is so manifold that it has taken nearly
a century to conserve, list, and describe it in various catalogues and specific studies. As it
often happens, this vast find did not end up in one collection, but was acquired or sold on
to various public libraries and collectors. The largest collection so far is still the Taylor-
Schechter Collection housed at the Cambridge University Library4, followed by the
manuscripts and fragments which are now in the Bodleian Library or British Library. Other
private collectors (e.g., Antonin; Lewis and Gibson; William Mayor) bought up material,
which was later bequeathed or acquired by academic libraries (Bibliothèque nationale de
France, Paris; Cambridge University Library; Manchester John Rylands Library; National
Library of Russia, St Petersburg; Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeological and
Anthropology, Philadelphia; Westminster College, Cambridge).5
Some of the Genizah material went into the early catalogues with other Hebrew texts
collected and were described by Adolf Neubauer and Arthur Ernest Cowley for the
Bodleian Library and British Museum.6 The manuscript material stored in the Taylor-
Schechter Collection in Cambridge was systematically catalogued with first primarily
attributions in Ernest James Worman’s hand catalogue, which is still taken for granted
although it is for most of the material today outdated.7 In a years-long project, they were
put under glass in large folders under the guidance of Stefan Reif as head of the Genizah
Unit. He also initiated and supported most of the new catalogues and many other
publications on the collection.8 Today his successor Ben Outhwaithe and his team make
the material accessible online9 together in a joint venture collaboration with the Friedberg
Jewish Manuscript Society, which in the meantime put all the Genizah photos online.10
Pioneers to buy up, collect, and attribute them according to their contents were at first
the namesakes of the Cambridge University Collection Charles Taylor11 and Solomon

4 Kahle, The Cairo Geniza, pp. 9-10.

5 I would like to thank all curators and librarians past and present for their help in making material
accessible and being very forthcoming in question of solving problems with shelf numbers and other
queries.
6 Adolf Neubauer and Arthur Ernest Cowley, Catalogue of the Hebrew Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, vol. II
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906), cols. 46 (no. 2656), 59 (no. 2663), 74 (no. 2672), 256 (no. 2827.17), 268
(no. 2834.7a.7c).
7 This primary catalogue is still considered relevant for the Friedberg Jewish Manuscript Society website
although much better descriptions have emerged in the meantime after one hundred twenty years, which
lead on to the correct assigment of languages and text content. See on this temporally employed librarian
Nick Posegay, The “Worman Archive” in the Genizah Research Unit and the Problem of Tenuous Part-
Time Contracts and/or Sudden Death for Archival Research (https://www.lib.cam.ac.uk/genizah-
fragments/posts/worman-archive-genizah-research-unit-and-problem-tenuous-part-time-contracts
accessed 2 April 2023).
8 https://www.joh.cam.ac.uk/professor-stefan-c-reif (accessed 14 May 2023).
9 https://www.lib.cam.ac.uk/collections/departments/taylor-schechter-genizah-research-unit; accessed 2
April 2023.
10 https://fjms.genizah.org.
11 J. E. Sandys, revised by John D. Pickles, “Charles Taylor (1840‫܇‬1908)”, in Oxford Dictionary of the National

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Schechter12 as well as the scholarly twins and renowned Sinai travellers Lewis and Gibson.13
One of the early comprehensive descriptions of the finds were given in serial lectures by
Kahle, which later appeared in a monograph14 It was not only the conservation of the
fragmentary material but also identifying them, which proved to be a task that could be
only achieved with an influx of scholars with expertise in the various text genres and
scripts. It goes without saying that the fragments could not be assembled by content at the
beginning. Here it was foremost important to store and conserve them as best as possible
since their state of preservation was very fragile. What was not assigned in the beginning
could then be achieved through the work of many later scholars, as the material could be
better described with better access and under improved working conditions.
Not that the vast amount of fragments made working with and studying them a
challenge in itself, but the palimpsests among them were even more difficult to identify and
to attribute to their rightful content and textual sequence as the degree of their preservation
varies from fragment to fragment. In 1899 Schechter gave many palimpsest fragments with
a Christian Palestinian Aramaic (Syro-Palestinian) uncial and Syriac script underneath to
Lewis and Gibson for publication, which they published in due course in 1900.15 Two years
later Lewis added an improved appendix with some new identifications by two scholars
Friedrich Schulthess and Carl Victor Ryssel.16 For some of the folios only a number of
words and letters could be made out by Lewis. They stayed unidentified for more than
sixty to one hundred twenty years.
Seven years before the Lewis and Gibson edition, George H. Gwilliam had edited five
parchment fragments from the Bodleian Library’s acquisition,17 of which one half folio
with Numbers (Syr. c. 4 [P]) had disappeared already a year before publication in 1892 soon
after he had handled it in the Manuscript Reading Room.18 What remains of it is only the

Biography (Oxford: Oxford Press, 2004; doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/36427).

12 Stefan Reif, “Schechter, Solomon (1847x50–1915)”, in Oxford Dictionary of the National Biography (Oxford:
Oxford Press, 2004; doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/57023).
13 Christa Müller-Kessler, “Lewis, Agnes Smith (1843–1926)”, in Oxford Dictionary of the National Biography
(Oxford: Oxford Press, 2006; doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/34510); Christa Müller-Kessler, Gibson [née
Smith], Margaret Dunlop (1843–1920), in Oxford Dictionary of the National Biography (Oxford: Oxford Press,
2004; (doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/55585); https://cudl.lib.cam.ac.uk/collections/lewisgibson/1.
14 Kahle, The Cairo Geniza.
15 See PST. Why it is necessary to have an expensive reprint for such a book though it was outdated at the
time of publication is difficult to understand. It is not so much the fault of Lewis that on account of the
preservation of the fragments lower scripts have always been difficult to deal with.
16 SS 11, 133-149; Friedrich Schulthess, “Review of Agnes Smith Lewis and Margaret Dunlop Gibson,
Palestinian Syriac Texts from Palimpsest Fragments …”, Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen 163 (1901), pp. 204-206;
Carl Viktor Ryssel, “Review of Lewis, Agnes Smith & Gibson, Margaret Dunlop, Palestinian Syriac Texts
from Palimpsest Fragments …”, Deutsche Literaturzeitung 21 (1902), cols. 2208-2211.
17 See AO 93.
18 Today the fragment is missing from the Collection. After many inquiries from my behalf concerning this
fragment since 1983 the curators of the David Weston Library manuscripts came up with the information
in 2013 in an email correspondence that the fragment had disappeared from the collection one year

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

photo of the reverse side in his booklet, which is not palimpsested. In 1896 followed his
publication with Francis C. Burkitt of a fragment containing Exodus (Syr. d. 32 [P]) and
another the Wisdom of Solomon (Syr. d. 33 [P]).19 The latter was probably damaged by the
usage of a reagent in the Bodleian Library and its full reading cannot be recovered. It so
happened that only in the connection with the preparation of this catalogue another
fragment from the Taylor-Schechter collection could be assigned to the same manuscript
of the Wisdom of Solomon (T-S 12.209).
Most of the attention was given to the Christian Palestinian Aramaic and Syriac
palimpsests, the others with Arabic, Coptic, Georgian, Greek, Hebrew, and Latin were
comparatively neglected. They are also less frequent in number. Then nearly sixty years
passed until Willem Baars started to edit part of the content of two palimpsest folios of the
largest preserved manuscript in CPA containing Jeremiah, Lamentations, Baruch (not
preserved), and Epistle of Jeremiah. He published a few verses of Lamentations in 1960 and
identified in this connection the Letter of Jeremiah in 1961. Although Baars presented only
one side of each folio, he prompted more research on the biblical fragments.20 Moshe H.
Goshen-Gottstein prepared in 1973 a volume with the assistance by Hanan Shirun for the
remaining texts of the Pentateuch and Prophets in CPA, including their citations in the
Church Fathers and the New Testament.21 The second promised volume of the remaining
biblical books appeared much later posthumously in 2008 without being updated by new
additional text finds and readings, and contained in the end only Psalms.22 Goshen-
Gottstein with his assistant simply relied on photographs, which defied in many cases the
reading of the complete text. Checks on the originals would have enhanced the readings.23
Goshen-Gottstein also followed previous works of his students Joseph Yahalom and
Michael Sokoloff, who had gone through the Genizah Collection and written dissertations
on certain texts.24 It is surprising that such a major enterprise as the one by Goshen-

before publication in 1893 and one day after the consultation by George H. Gwilliam. A correspondence
comprising ten letters between Gwilliam and the Bodleian Library had been kept undisclosed by request
of Adolf Neubauer. Therefore, the entry in Neubauer and Cowley, Catalogue, no. 2663 was inadequate
from the beginning. There have never been any folio numbers 4-8 as listed in RHT 118, I.4-8, even in
Neubauer and Cowley, Catalogue, no. 2656. This might have been caused by GFR, where the bifolios are
counted as two individual folios.
19 AO 96, pp. 24-26. According to Neubauer and Cowley, Catalogue, no. 2663 exist only two folios and not
four as listed in RHT, p. 118, IV.21-22, which is supposed to have plates in GFR, pp. 189-190.
20 See VT 10, pp. 224-227; VT 11, pp. 77-81.
21 See SPV. The study promised on p. IX concerning orthographical and internal linguistic differences
between types of manuscripts never saw publication. Even after so many years of reading and analysing
CPA material there have been constantly new insights on the diversity by scribes employed in the early
manuscripts.
22 Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein and Hanan Shirun, with Introduction by Moshe Bar Asher (ed. Matthew
Morgenstern and Nehemiah Mizrahi), The Bible in the Syropalestinian Version. Part II: Psalms (Jerusalem:
Magnes Press, 2008).
23 SPV, pp. XIV-XV.
24 SPV, p. XV, n. 2.

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 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

Gottstein for the Hebrew University Bible project did not make the effort to consult the
originals. The only result came a few years later in the form of an article of the
palimpsested parchment fragments with all scripts underneath by Sokoloff and Yahalom.
They arranged the texts according to the sequence of their upper Jewish content, which
seemed to work in most cases also for the sequence or quires of the lower texts, but not
always. For some folios they muddled the counting of the bifolios in the upper text with
the lower text by starting to renumber the individual upper folios and not going by the
lower ones (nos. I, II, IV). This is also not being helped by the reconstruction of the quires
of the upper text.25 Less successful and in many instances misleading has been the
catalogue by Moshe Bar-Asher in his dissertation of the presumed all-textual finds in
1977.26 Again the disadvantage of his study is that none of the originals were handled in situ,
i.e. storage places, and he worked with outdated descriptions and assignments from earlier
works. This is not an acceptable approach, since serious manuscript studies have to be
done on the originals. Photographs can be very misleading in this matter.
A French scholar Alain Desreumaux prepared 1979 a second catalogue, also in form of
a dissertation, but this work has never been published since, and only an overview article
appeared so far.27 Additional to all these enterprises is a monograph by Nehemia Alloni
containing many photographs of the Genizah fragments of Rabbinic Literature from the
Cambridge University Library, Bodleian Library, and the National Library of Russia, and
other libraries,28 which appeared in the same year as Goshen-Gottstein and Shirun’s edition
in 1973.29
For the preparation of my dissertation a reference grammar of Christian Palestinian
Aramaic all available Genizah fragments were collated. During this work the readings could
be improved and the identification of one fragment with Isaiah was possible.30 Later for the
set-up of the text publications of the early period texts I went through the collection
several times, successfully assigning some smaller fragments to the Old Testament and
New Testament corpus. Not all the lower texts could be identified in earlier studies, and
fragments are still missing in the list by Sokoloff and Yahalom. Quite a number of the
lower texts as pointed out above do not follow the sequence of the upper texts and could
be only joined later during the publication process of their individual undertexts. This is the

25 See RHT, pp. 118, 130. One has to stay with the original inventory numbers of the collection, as any
deviation confuses the user.
26 PSS, pp. 49-124.
27 Alain Desreumaux, Les matériaux du syro-palestinien pour une étude théorique des documents d’un dialecte «Thèse de
doctorat de IIIe cycle, Université Paris X» (Nanterre, 1979) [unpublished]. A copy cannot be traced
anymore in the university library, see Émile Puech, “Inscriptions en araméen christo-palestinien du Wadî
Hajjaj (Sinaï)”, Liber Annuus 64 (2014), p. 591, n. 4. This thesis was shown to me in September 1986 by
Émile Puech in the École Biblique, Jerusalem, and gave the impressions that it followed the same layout
as Bar-Asher’s catalogue.
28 See GFR.
29 GFR, pp. 139-140.
30 BSOAS, p. 56.

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case for the Palestinian Talmud Tractate Eruvin in the upper text, which has Old and New
Testament texts underneath with Isaiah, Hosea, Joel, 1–2 Corinthians, 1 Thessalonians (T-S
12.742+; T-S 16.325; T-S 20.157+; T-S 16.326), or the merged folio from two independent
texts having Deuteronomy 31:3-29 and John 14:15-16 (T-S 20.182). Some come from
independent CPA manuscripts and form isolated biblical fragments: Genesis 49:24; 33-50:1
(T-S AS 78.405); Joshua 7:2c-4a; 9b-11a (T-S 12.758);31 2 Kingdoms 6:19-7:7 (T-S 12.735 large
fragment);32 3 Kingdoms 11:5-32 (T-S 16.328; unpubl.),33 14:20*-15:4 (T-S 12.210);34 John
15:4-10 (T-S AS 78.402+410);35 Acts of the Apostles 25:1b-3(first word); 5c-6a; 11; 27; 27:4a-
5b; 7(last word)-9a; 11-12; 13b-14a (T-S AS 78.324).36
Left unidentified had been two double folios with the Dormition of Mary (T-S 16.327; T-S
16.351), which could be assigned by Sebastian P. Brock to this apocryphon on the basis of
my full readings in 1992.37 This extant Palestinian witness was already signalled by Simon C.
Mimouni in his book on the Transitus Mariae.38 Over the years, I could salvage two more
fragments (T-S AS 78.401; TS NS 258.140) from this collection, which also have this
apocryphal text in the lower script and testify to the long five-book transmission next to
Ethiopic and the fragmentary Syriac witnesses. These Cambridge fragments derive from
the same manuscript as T-S 16.327; T-S 16.351.39
There has been a gap in the work on these poorly preserved fragments. It was taken up
again by Laurent Capron who edited a revised reading of a double folio with the Vita of
Abraham of Qidūn, formerly identified by Schulthess.40 He also later published two new
fragments from the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris, which might have been
probably acquired from a private collector William Mayer (Lausanne, Switzerland),41
containing 1 Corinthians and 1 Thessalonians for content.42

31 This quarter of a fragment of a former folio with a tiny and elegant CPA script is only signalled in PST, p.
XVI, 80 as ‘legi non potest’. In the spring of 2023 it could be identified with the Book of Joshua, see RB 137
(2023) [forthcoming].
32 CCPA I, pp. 19, 99-100, pls. Ia-b, IV-V.
33 This double folio was not mentioned by Lewis and Gibson, PST, but is listed in RHT 119. It could only
recently in February 2023 be identified by the consultation of the original. A black & white print from
1991 did not bring out enough legible script for a satisfying reading. The preservation of f. 2 is very bad,
and to wit is not overwritten in all parts. These sections are hardly legible. The CPA script has been
difficult to bring out for reading with an ultraviolet lamp or in a dark room. Here multispectral imaging
might make a difference.
34 CCPA I, pp. 105-106; pl. VI.
35 CCPA IIA, p. 184, pl. VII.
36 CCPA IIB, pp. 46-49, pls. I-II.
37 Letter from 17th June 1992.
38 Simon C. Mimouni, Dormition et Assomption de Marie: histoire des traditions anciennes «Théologie historique» 98
(Paris: Beauchesne, 1995), p. 76.
39 Apocr, pp. 69-71, 75, 77-85.
40 FS Desr.
41 REJ, p. 50.
42 Sem., pp. 129-130 and 134-135.

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Reading such difficult palimpsests was and still is a challenge and at times one cannot
lay the deficient readings at the feet of the first editor(s). Light conditions and adequate
technical facilities and photography can vary. The eye can be also very deceptive and cause
many shortcomings in the readings. This is often not obvious to the external reader of such
publications, and especially for scholars, who have never dealt with originals of
palimpsests, edited unknown texts, or even unparalleled texts.43 Here only a persistent
rereading can help, but open questions naturally will remain.
Recently appeared only summarizing works and studies, of which most have not
followed the progress of identifications of unplaced folios and their content. Such
compilations carry no merit by only repeating what earlier scholars have said and written
without adding any new information. In this connection it is rather bizarre that such a
modern site as the Friedberg Jewish Manuscript Society providing all the images still relies
on outdated catalogue entries with information which has been updated over the years.
They still use the language attribution “Syriac” for Christian Palestinian Aramaic from the
catalogue by Ernest James Worman, who filed the fragments and described them one
hundred and twenty years ago,44 and ignore the fact that an article from 1978 by Sokoloff
and Yahalom offers much better information and details45 than this first initial card
catalogue. This problem is further highlighted in a preprint article by Ronny Vollandt
uploaded to Academia.edu for a planned conference volume on palimpsests, which had
taken place in Vienna 2018. He neglects the majority of studies on the Cairo Genizah
palimpsests finds by relying on the Friedberg Jewish Manuscript Society site with all its
gaps and shortcoming. He even speaks of forthcoming research for new details, for
identifications and readings, which were already finalized over thirty years ago.46 Similar
comments can be found in an article by Judith Olszowy-Schlanger and Roni Shweka, on
palimpsest fragments of the Talmud Yerushalmi from the Cairo Genizah. They describe
the lower text content of T-S 12.742 + T-S NS 329.300r + 329.301 as “The lower text
contains a passage from the Old Testament, probably in Christian Palestinian Aramaic”,47
which has Isaiah and T-S 12.750 + 12.755 (1 Corinthians) as “The lower text has not been
published, but is probably in Christian Palestinian Aramaic”.48 Yet, the palimpsest
fragments had been assigned in 1900 and 1978 to the correct Aramaic script and dialect,49

43 See Ronny Vollandt, “Palimpsests from Cairo and Damascus. A Comparative Perspective from the Cairo
Genizah and the Kubbat al-Khazna” on Academia.edu and to be published in Jana Gruskova, Grigory
Kessel, Claudia Rapp, and Guilia Rossetto (eds.), New Light on Old Manuscripts: Recent Advances in Palimpsest
Studies «Veröffentlichungen zur Byzanzforschung» 45 (Vienna: Austrian Academy, 2023).
44 https://www.lib.cam.ac.uk/genizah-fragments/posts/worman-archive-genizah-research-unit-and-
problem-tenuous-part-time-contracts (accessed 11 March 2023).
45 See Sokoloff and Yahalom, RHT.
46 Vollandt, “Palimpsests from Cairo and Damascus”.
47 REJ, p. 53, n. 10.
48 REJ, p. 53, n. 15.
49 PST, pp. 42-43; RHT, p. 119.

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and were identified and edited in 1993, 1997, and 1998.50 Based on this article, Capron
repeats this non-existing information of these two lower texts «Nous n’avons pas trouvé
d’information sur le premier fragment»,51 which had already been integrated in the edition
of the version of the CPA New Testament: Acts and Epistles (CCPA IIB) and was
published in 1998.52 Another attention seeking contribution was published by Rebecca
Jefferson on the two Scottish scholars Lewis and Gibson without any new contribution on
the text finds in general.53 It goes without saying that they advanced the field in their time,
but at least one has to admit that scholarship has moved on, although one still heavily relies
on their outdated publications, which has nothing to do with their own efforts. It is only
natural after 120 years that new insights were made and technical devices have been found
to reach better readings of such poorly preserved palimpsest fragments. Unfortunately,
their edition on the Genizah palimpsests can be summarised as being less successful than
their other publications and one wonders why such a book had to be reprinted in our time
with very poorly reproductions of the plates by Georgias Press.
The decision to prepare and publish a comprehensive overview of all folios and
fragmentary palimpsests, which have CPA texts underneath, brought new texts to light.
Three of them turned out to have unattested biblical contents Joshua 7 (T-S 12.758),54 3
Kingdoms (1 Kings) 11 under a much deteriorated double folio (T-S 16.328), and finally
Wisdom of Solomon 13 (T-S 12.209), which has formerly been marked either as being
unedited or with a question mark.55 Five of them are of patristic nature (T-S 12.759; 12.751;
12.757), including two from the Lewis-Gibson Collection, L-G Glass 1a–b, which happen
to contain Ioannes Ieiunator (Nesteutes), Sermo de poenitentia.56 The remaining unsolved
fragments are Heb. b. 13, f. 14.1–5, which do not derive from identical texts, and there do
not remain sufficient text passages for identification. Although the text genre in T-S 12.751
and T-S 12.757 is obvious, no parallels could be found in the Greek corpus or the Thesaurus
Linguae Graecae. Only a month later in April 2023 another four CPA palimpsest fragments
could be unearthed from the vast amount of Genizah material (Cambridge University
Library T-S NS 258.149; T-S NS 258.150; T-S NS 329.563; Manchester, John Rylands
Library AF 299). Often it is possible to attribute the individual fragments according to their
scribal hand. This is, however, difficult if they come as single and individual fragments. The
scripts range from fine executed letters to large rough-shaped ones. Any kind of attempt at
dating can be only vague. To take the Codex Climaci rescriptus as a model of an early example

50 BSOAS 56, pp. 119-122; CCPA I, pp. 140-141; CCPA IIB, pp. 88-89.
51 Sem, p. 128, n. 4.
52 CCPA IIB, pp. 88-89.
53 For the material from the Cairo Genizah in Rebecca Jefferson, “Sisters of Semitics: A Fresh Appreciation
of the Scholarship of Agnes Smith Lewis and Margaret Dunlop Gibson”, Medieval Feminist Forum: A
Journal of Gender and Sexuality 45 (2009), pp. 36-38.
54 RB, p. 130 [forthcoming].
55 RHT, p. 119. Not mentioned in PST.
56 VLR [in press].

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of the CPA script is hardly satisfying,57 since the underlying CPA scripts derive from at
least seven scribal hands. It ranges from large sized characters (CCR1) to neatly written
letters (CCR2B).58 One of the best written texts is found under T-S 12.758 for the Book of
Joshua despite being nearly covered by the Hebrew script. Such statements serve more or
less notorious and debatable private collectors as Martin Schøyen or the Green Collection
(Bible Museum) who want to be convinced of holding the earliest and completely unique
text of any Bible witnesses, but they do not correlate with scholar opinions.59

The following catalogue list is designed to give the interested scholar in Bible and patristics
an overview of the texts to be found under the various Hebrew script texts in the CPA
palimpsests and the second list shall enable the user to trace back the inventory numbers.

57 See Agnes Smith Lewis, Codex Climaci Rescriptus «Horae Semiticae» VIII (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1909), p. XI, and taken up as an argument by Sokoloff and Yahalom, RHT, p. 116.
58 On the further subdivision of CCR2, see Christa Müller-Kessler, “The Missing Quire of Codex Climaci
rescriptus Containing 1-2 Corinthians in Christian Palestinian Aramaic (Sin., syr. NF M38)” in Jana
Gruskova, Grigory Kessel, Claudia Rapp, and Guilia Rossetto (eds.), New Light on Old Manuscripts: Recent
Advances in Palimpsest Studies «Veröffentlichungen zur Byzanzforschung» 45 (Vienna: Austrian Academy,
2023), pp. 147-170.
59 Rather enlightening on this matter is the book by Candida R. Moss and Joel S. Baden, Bible Nation: The
United States of Hobby Lobby (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2017). Suddenly established journals
like Zeitschrift für alttestamentliche Wissenschaft or Vetus Testamentum accept such articles influenced by this
evangelical movement, which are written by inexperienced junior scholars, and who have to sign a tight
non-disclosure agreement to Hobby Lobby, although there is, for example, hardly anything new or hidden
concerning Codex Climaci Rescriptus, except that the previous editor might have forgotten to indicate a
corner of a letter or perhaps a character which is now better visible with the help of the multispectral
imaging technique; see e.g., Peter Malik, “Psalms 135.13–136.7, 140.10–142.1 in Codex Climaci escriptus.
A New Edition of the Greek Text Based on Multispectral Images”, Zeitschrift für alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
135 (2023), pp. 16-40; similar with nearly identical word to word introduction again by Peter Malik,
“Joshua Fragment from Codex Climaci Rescriptus: A New Edition Based on the Multispectral Images”,
Vetus Testamentum 73 (2022), pp. 1-16, which is in fact not a new edition, since the readings were done by
Ian Moir, Codex Climaci Rescriptus Graecus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956) except for
discrepancies (one faulty reading, and missing diacritical signs probably due to a faint palimpsest script).
Despite being pettifogging about overlooking dicolons, a treima, and a missing taw. Malik does not even
consider to mention the authors of catalogues and articles, who identified and published information on
the Codex Climaci Rescriptus, including the former missing folios. Such scholarship is questionable and not
acceptable.

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Catalogue of the Christian Palestinian Aramaic Palimpsests

Content of text60 Collection Edition Previous Publications/

Number61 Mentioning

1. Old Testament
1.1 Pentateuch
1.1.1 Genesis62
49:24 T-S AS 78.405r CCPA I 19 —
49:33–50:1a T-S AS 78.405v CCPA I 19 —

1.1.2 Exodus
28:1–5a Syr. d. 33 (P)r CCPA I 43 AO 96:11–12; SPV 29
28:5b–12(first Syr. d. 33 (P)r CCPA I 44 AO 96:13–14; SPV 29
two words)

1.1.3 Numbers
4:46–47; 49–5:2a Syr. c. 4r63 CCPA I 54 AO 93:4–5; SPV 35
5:3–4; 6–8a Syr. c. 4v CCPA I 55 AO 93:6–7; SPV 35

1.1.4 Deuteronomy
31:3–8; 11 T-S 20.182r CCPA I 80–81 PST 2; SPV 47–48
(last word)–14
31:19(last word) T-S 20.182v CCPA I 82–83 PST 4; SPV 48
–20; 25c–29

60 If texts derive from diverse manuscripts in the lower texts, this is distinguished by Latin letters.
61 An m-dash indicates that the collection number of the manuscript or fragment is not found in the
catalogue description.
62 This small fragment could be recovered by myself from the Genizah fragments and identified for the text
series CCPA I. It is not listed in the CPA catalogues, except in RHT, p. 120. It is supposed to go together
with John Rylands Genizah fragments P 406; P 408. Both are Hebrew palimpsests. Also the upper script
is not identical to this fragment, although it contains the Palestinian Talmud tractate Sanhedrin but stems
from another manuscript.
63 Is an old inventory number.

106
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

1.2 Historical Books

1. Joshua

7:2c–4a T-S 12.758r64 RB PST 80

7:9b–11a T-S 12.758v RB —

1.2.2 2 Kingdoms (2 Samuel)65

6:19–7:1 T-S 12.735r CCPA I 99 —

(large fragment)
7:2–7 T-S 12.735v CCPA I 100 —
(large fragment)

1.2.3 3 Kingdoms (1 Kings)

a.
11:5–12a T-S 16.328, 1r — —
11:12b–14 T-S 16.328, 1v — —
11:31–32 T-S 16.328, 2r — —
11:32b–36 T-S 16.328, 2v — —
b.
14:20*–26 T-S 12.210r66 CCPA I 105 PST 138; SPV 56
14:27*–15:4 T-S 12.210v CCPA I 106 PST 138; SPV 56
(first word)

64 This quarter of a fragment of a former folio with a tiny and elegant CPA script is only signalled in PST, p.
XVI, 80 as ‘legi non potest’. In February of 2023 it could be identified with Joshua, see RB 137 (2023)
[forthcoming].
65 The larger fragment could be identified by myself with the only surviving text of 2 Kingdoms (2 Samuel)
in CPA for the series CCPA I. This biblical book had only been known from quotations in the New
Testament occurring in the Lewis Lectionary, in Codex Climaci Rescriptus (CCR 2B), and the Horologion;
see SPV, p. 54.
66 This fragment is definitely not the same manuscript as T-S NS 249.14r for the lower CPA script. Apart
from the folio size it tends to overlong lines and doubling of the letter yud in ‫ ܘ‬1 Kgds 14:26 and
the plene spelling with aleph for expected /ā/ as in ‫̈ ܘܐܬ‬ ‘treasuries’ 1 Kgds 14:26 and ‫̈ ܢ‬
‘written pl. fem.’ 1 Kgds 14:29. Correct the typographical error ‫ ܕܕܗ‬for ‫ ܕܗ‬1 Kgds 14:26 in CCPA I,
p. 105.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

1.2.4 4 Kingdoms (2 Kings) Lectionary67

1:12b–18 T-S NS 249.14r CCPA I 107 SPV 57
1:18a–2:3a T-S NS 249.14v CCPA I 108 SPV 57–58; BSOAS
38:141
? T-S NS 301.63r68 — —
? T-S NS 301.63v — —

1.3 Prophets

1.3.1 Isaiah
36:15(last word) T-S 12.742r69+ CCPA I 140 PST 42; BSOAS
–21a T-S NS 329.300r 56:119–120*
+ 301r
36:21b–37:4 T-S 12.742v + CCPA I 141 BSOAS 56:121
T-S NS 329.300v –122*
+ 301v

67 In BSOAS 38, pp. 141-142 Sebastian Brock drew attention to the fact that this folio is a pericope from a
Lectionary with a rubric. It can be placed into lection XLIV, reading 8 of the Old Jerusalem Lectionary;
see Christa Müller-Kessler, “The Early Jerusalem Lectionary Tradition in Christian Palestinian Aramaic
(5th-7th century): Lections Containing Unattested Old and New Testament Pericopes in Unpublished
Palimpsests”, Le Muséon 136:1-2 (2023), pp. 209, 216.
68 This fragment was joined according to the upper text with T-S NS 249.14 by Joseph Yahalom, Palestinian
Vocalised Piyyut Manuscripts in the Cambridge Genizah Collections, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1997), pp. 28-29. It is tempting to join also the lower CPA text. The content, however, is difficult to place
as it comes from an early witness of the Old Jerusalem Lectionary and might be a different pericope as
Jeremiah or Ezechiel, see Athanase Renoux, Le codex arménien Jérusalem 121 «Patrologia Orientalis» 36.2
(Turnhout: Brepols, 1971), pp. 165-169.
69 This larger fragment with two small joins could be attributed to the only non-lectionary CPA Bible text
for Isaiah; see BSOAS 56, pp. 119-122. The remaining letters in the tiny fragments are not telling enough
to be placed within this Isaiah folio as the text on them is not continuous. Olszowy-Schlanger and
Shweka, REJ, p. 53, n. 10 have not been aware of this identification and its full publication.

108
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

1.3.2 Jeremiah70
12:12–15 T-S 16.322, f. 2r CCPA I 162 PST 6; SPV 85–86
13:1c–6a T-S 16.322, f. 2v CCPA I 162 PST 8; SPV 86
13:23–25 T-S 16.322, f. 1r CCPA I 162 PST 10; SPV 86
14:4b–7 T-S 16.322, f. 1v CCPA I 162 PST 12; SPV 86
(first words)
21:12b–22:3a Hebr. e. 73, f. 42r CCPA I 157 SPV 86; JSS 212–213
22:3b–8a Hebr. e. 73, f. 42v71 — —
36(29):32– T-S 16.323, f. 1r CCPA I 162 PST 14; SPV 86–87
37(30):6a
37(30):6b–10 T-S 16.323, f. 1v CCPA I 162 PST 14; SPV 87
38(31):4–8a T-S 16.323, f. 2r CCPA I 162 PST 16; SPV 87
38(31):8b–12a T-S 16.323, f. 2v CCPA I 162 PST 18; SPV 87–88
38(31):12b–15a T-S 16.322, f. 3r CCPA I 16272 PST 20; SPV 88
38(31):15b–20 T-S 16.322, f. 3v CCPA I 163 PST 22; SPV 88
(first word)
38(31):21 Or. 6581, no. 1r73 CCPA I 164 —
38(31):28 Or. 6581, no. 1v CCPA I 164 —

70 The orthography is very specific in this manuscript of Jeremiah, Lamentations (1.3.4), and the Epistle of
Jeremiah (1.3.5). It tends to a number of plene spellings with aleph, especially in positions for expected long
/ā/ to even out the columns. It is as alternative for the double spelling of yud. This MS, however, does
not show any examples of double yud, only the MS St. Petersburg, NLR, Greek 19 uses both. This
spelling trait could not be fully displayed in the CPA grammar, because these fragments had not been
completely read yet at that stage, but it is very telling for the assignment of individual manuscripts. The
forms with * are newly established readings: ‫̈ ܬ‬ /galmātā/ ‘valleys’ Jer 14:6; * ‫ܕܗܐ‬̈ /dahhābayyā/
‘goldsmiths’ EpJer 45; * ‫ ܕܘܐ‬/dawwānā/ ‘misery’ Lam 1:13; ‫ ܕ ܐ‬/drāqōnīn/ ‘dragons’ Jer 14:6;
̈
*‫ ̇ܗܐܘ‬/hāu/ ‘that’ Jer 37:7; 8; * ‫ ܗܘܐܬ‬/hawāt/ ‘she was’ EpJer 43; * ‫ ̈ ܐܬ‬/ḥailwātā/ ‘forces’ Jer 45:17;
̈ ̈ ̈
‫ܐܬܗ‬ /ḥailwātē/ ‘his forces’ Jer 39:2; ‫ܬ‬ /ṭābātā/ ‘goodness’ Jer 39:42; [‫ܬ]ܝ‬ /ṭābātī/ ‘my good
things’ Jer 38:14; * /yāklaz/ ‘TN Kedron valley’ Jer 38:40; ‫ܢ‬ ̈ /yātibān/ ‘they (fem.) sit’ EpJer
42; ‫ ̈ ܢ‬/yitḥadiyān/ ‘they (fem.) shall rejoice’ Jer 38:13; ‫ ܐܬ‬/kawāt/ ‘like’ EpJer 34; *‫ ܐܬ‬/lewāt/
‘to’ Jer 45:18; ‫ ܐܬܗ‬/lewātē/ ‘to him’ Jer 43:4; * ‫̈ܗܐ‬ /medāh(h)abīn/ ‘made of gold Pa. pass. pt.
plur.’ EpJer 38; /maḥyānī/ ‘my saviour’ Lam 1:16; ‫ܢ‬ /menaḥmān/ ‘comforter’ Lam 1:17;
* ̈ /mekāssapīn/ ‘of silver Pa. pass. pt.’ EpJer 38; ‫ܐܪ‬ /me‘awwār/ ‘blind’ EpJer 36; * ‫̈ ܐ‬
/meqawwāyīn/ ‘waiting’ Pa. act. pt. plur.’ EpJer 38 (correct reading of CCPA I 207); * /meqāllalā/
‘dishonoured’ Pa. pass. pt. sing. fem.’ Lam 1:11; *‫ܕ‬ /metpaqqād/ ‘ordered Itpa. pt. sing. fem.’
EpJer 61; *‫̈ ܢ‬ /metaqqanān/ ‘arranged Pa. pass. pt. plur. fem.’ EpJer 42; ‫̈ ܕܘ‬ /naggādū/ ‘they
drew (wind) for Pa. pf.’ Jer 14:6; * ‘carpenters’ /naggārīn/ EpJer 45; * ‫̈ܨ‬ /nāṣānayyā/
‘blossoms’ Jer 13:24; ̈ /sāpī/ ‘(the eyes) failed Pe. pf.’ Jer 14:6; ‫ܬܗ‬ /šabyātē/ ‘his captivity’ Jer
37:3; ‫ܬܗܘܢ‬ /šabyāthōn/ ‘their captivity’ Jer 37:10; * ‫ ܘ‬/šāwwiyā/ ‘equal’ EpJer 43; *[ ‫̈ ]ܬ‬
/šaḥwātā/ ‘armpits’ Jer 45:12.
71 Recently the reading and attribution was possible of the reverse.
72 Read col. b l. 6 [ ]‫ܘܐܪ‬14; l. 7 ‫ܘܢ‬ [ ̇ ‫ ; ܘܐܪ]ܘ‬in l. 8 delete ‫ܘܢ‬ ; add another empty line [ . . . . . . ] after
l. 19.
73 Identification and reading was contributed by me for our text series volume CCPA I.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

38(31):35b–38 T-S 16.324, f. 1r CCPA I 165 PST 24; SPV 88–89

38(31):39– T-S 16.324, f. 1v CCPA I 166 PST 26; SPV 89
39(32):2
39(32):35–40a T-S 16.324, f. 2r CCPA I 167 PST 28; SPV 89
39(32):40b–44a T-S 16.324, f. 2v CCPA I 168 PST 30; SPV 89–90
43(36):1–4 T-S NS 329.845 + CCPA I 169 SPV 90
Or. 1080.4.65a r
43(36):5–8 T-S NS 329.845 + CCPA I 170 SPV 90
Or. 1080.4.65a v
43(36):25–29a T-S NS 329.844, 1r CCPA I 171 SPV 90
43(36):29b–32a T-S NS 329.844, 1v CCPA I 172 SPV 90
43(36):32b– T-S NS 329.844, CCPA I 173 SPV 90
44(37):5a 2r + Or. 1080.4.65ar
44(37):5b–10 T-S NS 329.844, CCPA I 174 SPV 90
2v + Or. 1080.4.65av
44(37):5–10 T-S NS 200.49r + CCPA I 175 —
T-S 12.735r (small
fragment)74
44(37):19–45:2 T-S NS 200.49v + CCPA I 176 —
T-S 12.735v (small
fragment)
45(38):7 Or. 1080.4.65ar CCPA I 177 —
45(38):12 Or. 1080.4.65av CCPA I 178 —
45(38):14–18a Hebr. e. 73, f. 43r75 CCPA I 179 JSS 208–210
45(38):18b–22 Hebr. e. 73, f. 43v CCPA I 179 —
52:22–24 Hebr. e. 13, f. 13r CCPA I 181 SPV 90
52:25–29 Hebr. e. 13, f. 13v CCPA I 182 JSS 214–210

1.3.3 Ezekiel
22:11b–16a E 16507r CCPA I 185 SPV 91
22:16b–20 E 16507v CCPA I 186 SPV 91

74 Both fragments were made out to be part of this large upper Bereshit Rabbah manuscript, but the
identification with Jeremiah and reading could be only later achieved by me for our text series volume
CCPA I.
75 The remaining text could be read in contrast to the statement by Goshen-Gottstein, SPV, p. XV under h).

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 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

1.3.4 Lamentations
1:10(last word) Hebr. b. 13, f. 12r CCPA I 183 JSS 21876
–15a
1:15b–18 Hebr. b. 13, f. 12v CCPA I 184 VT 10:224–227

1.3.5 Epistle of Jeremiah77

33–39 T-S 12.745r CCPA I 20778 VT 11:78; PST 92
(last two words) (XXVII)
39a–44a T-S 12.745v CCPA I 208 PST 91
44b–49 T-S 12.744r CCPA I 20979 PST 71 (XII)
50–54a T-S 12.744v CCPA I 210 VT 11:79; PST 70
54b–58a Antonin, Ebr. CCPA I 21180 —
B 958r
58b–63a Antonin, Ebr. CCPA I 212 —
B 958b

1.3.6 Hosea
14:4b–10a T-S 16.325, f. 1r CCPA I 189 SPV 92; PST 34
14:10b T-S 16.325, f. 1v CCPA I 190 SPV 92; PST 36

1.3.7 Joel
1:1–6a T-S 16.325, f. 1v CCPA I 191 SPV 93; PST 36
2:10b–14a T-S 16.325, f. 2r CCPA I 192 SPV 94; PST 38
2:14b–20a T-S 16.325, f. 2v CCPA I 193 SPV 95; PST 40

76 Publication of the full reading of the complete fragment is found in this article.
77 Read by me for CCPA I.
78 Read col. b l. 20 ‫ܕ ̈ ܐ‬.
79 Baars was the first to recognize the Epistle of Jeremiah underneath these two Bereshit Rabbah fragments.
80 During my research trip to St Petersburg in 1995 this folio could be ascertained as predicted in GFR. pp.
139-140 and Michael Sokoloff, The Geniza Fragments of Bereshit Rabba (Jerusalem: The Israel Academy of
Sciences and Humanities, 1982) [Hebrew], pp. 125-127 to contain the Epistle of Jeremiah 54b-63a.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

1.4 Books

1.4.1 Wisdom of Solomon

9:8b–14a Syr. d. 32 (P)r CCPA I 200 —
9:14b–10:2a Syr. d. 32 (P)v CCPA I 201 —
13:1–5 T-S 12.209r81 — —
13:6–11 T-S 12.209v — —

1.4.2 Ecclesiasticus (Wisdom of Sirach)

18:18b–26 T-S 12.191r CCPA I 203 PST 81; SS 11:134
18:27–19:1 T-S 12.191v CCPA I 204 PST 82; SS 11:135

2. New Testament

2.1 Gospels

2.1.1 John
a.
11:56–12:7a T-S 12.211r CCPA IIA 180–181 SS 11:139
12:7b–16 T-S 12.211v CCPA IIA 182–183 SS 11:140
b.
14:25b–15:4 T-S 16.98r CCPA IIA 185–186 SS 11:136
15:5–16 T-S 16.98v CCPA IIA 187-188 SS 11:137
c.
14:15–16a; T-S 20.182, f. 2r CCPA IIA 184 PST 44
18–19
— T-S 20.182, f. 2v — —
15:4–7 TS AS 78.410r + CCPA IIA 189 —
T-S 78.402r
15:16–19 TS AS 78.410v + CCPA IIA 190 —
T-S 78.402v

81 In March 2023 it was possible to identify it as part of the same manuscript as Bodl., Syr. d. 32 (P)
containing Wisdom of Solomon on account of the type of script, number of lines, and the remaining fitting
text passages.

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 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

2.2 Acts of the Apostles and Epistles

2.2.1 Acts of the Apostles

25:1b–3 (first T-S AS 78.324, 1r CCPA IIB 46 —
word); 5c–6a + AF 299r82
25:11 T-S AS 78.324, 1v CCPA IIB 47 —
+ AF 299v
27:4a–5b; T-S AS 78.324, 2r CCPA IB 48 —
7(last word)–9a
27:11–12; T-S AS 78.324, 2v CCPA IIB 49 —
13b–14a

2.2.2.1 1 Corinthians
a.
1:2–10a Hébr. 1489 (9)r Sem 134–135 REJ 8083
1:10b–16a Hébr. 1489 (9)v Sem 135 REJ 81
b.
5:10b–13a T-S 12.756r + CCPA IIB 88 —
12.755r84
5:13b–6a T-S 12.756v + CCPA IIB 89 —
12.755v

2.2.2.2 2 Corinthians
3:2b–9a T-S 20.157, 1r CCPA IIB 103 PST 46
3:9b-16 T-S 20.157, 1v CCPA IIB 104 PST 48
(first word)
3:16-4:4a T-S 20.157, 2r CCPA IIB 105 PST 50
4:4b-10a T-S 20.157, 2v CCPA IIB 106 PST 52

2.2.3 Colossians
4:12–18a Syr. 15 c. (P)r CCPA IIB 158 AO 93:8–9
4:18b Syr. 15 c. (P)v CCPA IIB 159 AO 93:10

82 This recently joined fragment for the upper text from the John Rylands Library, Manchester definitely
also joins in the lower CPA text. The lower script, however, is very weak on the photo produced by the
John Rylands Library, and therefore difficult to make out.
83 Only mentioned as fragments without their former identification.
84 These two fragments are listed as unpublished by Olszowy-Schlanger and Shweka, REJ, p. 53, n. 15!

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

2.2.4 1 Thessalonians
a.
1:1–3a Syr. 15 c. (P)v CCPA IIB 160 AO 93:10–11
4:3a–10a Syr. 16 c. (P)r CCPA IIB 161 AO 93:12–13
4:10b–15a Syr. 16 c. (P)v CCPA IIB 162 AO 93:14–15
b.
1:8a–9; 2:1–2 Hébr. 1489 (1)r Sem 129 —
2:4–5a; 6c–7 Hébr. 1489 (1)v Sem 130 —
c.
3:1b–6 T-S 16.326, 1r + CCPA IIB 167 PST 54
P series 49r85
3:6(last two T-S 16.326, 1v + CCPA IIB 168 PST 56
words)–13
4:1–8a T-S 16.326, 2r CCPA IIB 169 PST 58
4:8b–14a T-S 16.326, 2v CCPA IIB 170 PST 60

2.2.5 2 Timothy
a.
1:10c–17a Syr. c. 17 (P)r CCPA IIB 179 AO 93:16–17
1:17b–2:7a Syr. c. 17 (P)v CCPA IIB 180 AO 93:18–19
b.
2:16–21 T-S 20.158, 1r CCPA IIB 181 PST 62
2:22–26 T-S 20.158, 1v CCPA IIB 182 PST 64

2.2.6 1 Titus
a.
1:11b–2:2 Syr. c. 18 (P)r CCPA IIB 183 AO 93:20–21
(first word)
2:2a–8 Syr. c. 18 (P)v CCPA IIB 184 AO 93:22–23
b.
3:3–8a T-S 20.158, 2r CCPA IIB 190 PST 66
3:8b–12 T-S 20.158, 2v CCPA IIB 191 PST 68

85 This fragment was not worked into CCPA II 168-169, although it fits on the top into the right column of
T-S 16.326, 1r or left hand column of T-S 16.326, 1v. It has been given the old inventory numbers in
RHT VI.30, 33 (JRL Geniza fragment 49 a fol. 1; JRL Geniza fragment 49 a fol. 2), but in VT 10, p. 224,
n. 1 (Manchester Library, Parchment Geniza fragm. no. 49 for Bereshit Rabbah, which is actually Palestinian
Talmud). I received under this number a Syriac palimpsest in Serto script from the John Rylands Library,
Manchester. The text with the joined fragment should read in T-S 16.326, 1r. ll. 1-4 ̈ ‫ ܕ [ܘܦ‬. . . . ]
̈ [ . . . ] [‫ܢ ܐܬ] ـ‬ ‫]ܢ ـ[ܕ‬ T-S 16.326, 1v, ll. 1-3 should read ‫ܕ ] [ ܗ‬ ‫ܕܐ ]ܗ[ܘ‬
. . [‫ܕ ]ܬ ـ‬.

114
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

3. Apocrypha

3.1 Dormition of Mary86

§§ 20?87 T-S 16.351, 1r Apocr 78–79 —
§§ 21? T-S 16.351, 1v Apocr 79 —
§§ 45b–46a T-S 16.327, 1r Apocr 79–80 PST 86
+ T-S AS 78.401r
§§ 46b T-S 16.327, 1v Apocr 80–81 —
+ T-S AS 78.401v
§§ 50c–51b T-S 16.327, 2r Apocr 81–82 —
§§ 51c–52a T-S 16.327, 2v Apocr 82 —
§§ 78b T-S 16.351, 2r Apocr 83 —
§§ 78c–79a T-S 16.351, 2v Apocr 83–84 —

§§ 80a T-S NS 258.140r Apocr 84 —

§§ 80b T-S NS 258.140r Apocr 85 —

4. Hagiography

4.1 Martyrdom of Philemon88

§4 T-S 12.750r PST 93 —
§4 T-S 12.750v PST 93 —
§ 12 T-S 12.749r SS 11:133 PST 74
+ T-S 329.968r — —
§ 12 T-S 12.749v SS 11:133 PST 74
+ T-S 329.968v — —

86 With the help of a full transliteration of the remaining parts in T-S 16.327 by myself the text could be
attributed to the Koimeses by Sebastian Brock in 1992. Simon C. Minouni, Dormition et Assomption de
Marie: histoire des traditions anciennes «Théologie historique» 98 (Paris: Le Cerf, 1995), p. 76 was aware of the
fact and included the first mention of its existence in this monograph. T-S 16.351 was listed in RHT 118
as being one text with T-S 16.327 according to the upper text. Another tiny fragment T-S AS 78.401 could
be joined by me on the basis of the script to the top of the right hand side of T-S 16.327, 1r. Only T-S NS
258.140r was discovered recently to contain the same text by browsing the Friedberg Jewish Manuscript
website. It proved rather tedious to fit in, as the text was deriving from much later paragraphs and did not
follow the same sequence as Midrash Sidra Rabbah.
87 The CPA version follows a longer text version, which is only extant in the Ge‘ez (Ethiopic) but it is
missing in the Greek corpus. Therefore, the division and counting follows the Ge‘ez transmission.
88 Schulthess, “Review of A. S. Lewis, Palestinian Syriac Texts ...”, p. 204 drew attention to the two fragments
containing this martyrdom. See also on the CPA fragments Sebastian P. Brock, “The Earliest Syriac
Manuscript of the Martyrdom of Philemon and his Companions”, in Ugo Zanetti and Enzo Lucchesi
(eds.), AEgyptus Christiana: mélanges d’hagiographie égyptienne et orientale dédiés à la menoire du P. Devos bollandiste
(Geneva: Patrick Cramer, 2004), p. 31.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

4.2 Vita of Abraham of Qidūn

§ 13 T-S 12.746, 1r89 FS Desr 234 PST 77
§ 13–14 T-S 12.746, 1v FS Desr 235 PST 78
§ 15 T-S 12.746, 2r FS Desr 236 PST 79
§ 16 T-S 12.746, 2v FS Desr 237 PST 80

4.3 Vita of Antonius

§ 39 T-S 16.319, 1r SS 11:146 —
§ 39 T-S 16.319, 1v SS 11:147 —
§ 41–42 T-S 16.319, 2r SS 11:148 —
§ 42 T-S 16.319, 2v SS 11:14990 —
§ 71–72 T-S 16.329, 1r PST 98 —
§ 72 T-S 16.329, 1v PST 100 —
§ 72–73 T-S 16.329, 2r PST 102 —
§ 73 T-S 16.329, 2v PST 104 —
§ 89 T-S 12.752r PST 86 —
§ 90 T-S 12.752v PST 87 —
§ 92 T-S 12.753r SS 11:142 —
§ 92–93 T-S 12.753v SS 11:144 —

5. Theological

5.1 Joannes Jejunator, Sermo de poenitentia (PG 88, 1977)

B L-G Glass 1br VRL 2? PST 108
B L-G Glass 1bv VRL 2? PST 108
C L-G Glass 1ar VRL 2? PST 107
C L-G Glass 1av VRL 2? PST 107

89 Read instead of Capron: 1rb3 [ ]̈‫ ̈ ـ‬not ; 1rb4 [ ]‫ـ‬ not [ ]‫ـ‬ ; 1rb8 [‫ـ ـ]ܢ‬ not [ ] ;
1vb17 ‫ ܐ ܣ‬not ‫ܗ ܣ‬.
90 After the identification of T-S 16.329 also T-S 16.319 could be attributed to the Vita of Antonius by
Ryssel. This goes for T-S 12.752 and T-S 12.753 as well. Lewis published them again with improved
readings by omitting only the texts T-S 12.752. All readings had been updated by me for the Comprehensive
Aramaic Lexicon. The readings, however, were interpolated by Michael Sokoloff in Michael Sokoloff, Texts
of Various Contents in Christian Palestinian Aramaic «Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta» 235 (Leuven: Peeters,
2014) and idem, A Dictionary of Christian Palestinian Aramaic «Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta» 234 (Leuven:
Peeters, 2014), were withdrawn from the market by the publisher Peeters on account of a court
settlement (München, LG 7 O 167/18). In many cases, the reading appearing in the edition are not based
on the originals and were only made to fit in. Most of the English translations deviate heavily from the
Aramaic text.

116
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

5.2 Pseudo-Caesarius
§? T-S 12.759r — —
§? T-S 12.759v PST 88 —

5. Simboli Nicaeni Fragmentum

T-S 12.748r PST 72 —
T-S 12.748v PST 73 —

6. Unidentified
Heb. b. 13, f. 14.1–5r — —
Heb. b. 13, f. 14.1–5v — —
T-S 12.751r91 PST 84 —
T-S 12.751v PST 85 —
T-S 12.757r PST 83 —
T-S 12.757v PST 83 —
T-S NS 258.149r — —
T-S NS 258.149v — —
T-S NS 258.150r — —
T-S NS 258.150v — —
T-S NS 329.563r — —
T-S NS 329.563v — —

91 According to the quotation sign for Romans 5:15, which is indicated by a cross followed by a double dot in
this MS, it could be from Ephrem, de paenitentia, although the rest of the text does not fit into this sermon.
Such a quotation sign is also found in T-S 12.746 for Psalm 118:10 within the Vita of Abraham of Qidūn. It
is not only the quotation signs which are usually not in use in patristic CPA texts, but also the script is
very much alike to T-S 12.746 with an unusual extended large stroke in the taw and in the lamed, as well as
a very upright pe. It does not imply that it has to be the Vita of Abraham of Qidūn, but could derive from a
collection of texts in a single manuscript. It is certainly not from the Vita of Antonius as listed under RHT
IX.45.

117
 Christa Müller-Kessler

List of the Collection Numbers, Catalogue Numbers, Publications, Images92

Collection Number Catalogue Numbers Last Publication Images

a) Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

Hébr. 1489 (1) —; — Sem 134–135 —93
Hébr. 1489 (9) —; — Sem 135 —

b) Bodleian Library, Oxford

Heb. b. 13, f. 12r PSS 14; RHT XVI.66 CCPA I 182 —
Heb. b. 13, f. 12v PSS 14; RHT XVI.66 CCPA I 183 —
94
Heb. b. 13, f. 13r PSS 14; RHT XVI.68 CCPA I 180 SPV pl. IV
Heb. b. 13, f. 13v PSS 14; RHT XVI.68 CCPA I 181 —
Heb. b. 13, f. 14.1–6r PSS –; RHT II.9–1495 — —
Heb. b. 13, f. 14.1–6v PSS –; RHT II.9–14 — —
Heb. e. 73, f. 42r PSS 14; RHT XVI.59 CCPA I 157 —
Heb. e. 73, f. 42v PSS 14; RHT XVI.59 — —
Heb. e. 73, f. 43r PSS 14; RHT XVI.69 CCPA I 179 —
Heb. e. 73, f. 43v PSS 14; RHT XVI.69 CCPA I 180 —
Syr. c. 4 (P), f. 1r PSS 6; RHT XIX.8196 CCPA I 54 AO 93 pl. I
Syr. c. 4 (P), f. 1v PSS 6; RHT XIX.81 CCPA I 55 —
Syr. c. 15 (P)r PSS 45; RHT I.197 CCPA IIB 158 pl. VII
Syr. c. 15 (P)v PSS 45; RHT I.1 CCPA IIB 159–160 —
Syr. c. 16 (P)r PSS 45; RHT I.2 CCPA IIB 161 pl. VIII
Syr. c. 16 (P)v PSS 45; RHT I.2 CCPA IIB 162 pl. IX; AO 93
pl. II
Syr. c. 17 (P)r PSS 45; RHT I.3 CCPA IIB 179 AO 93 pl. III

92 If no literature abbreviation is cited for the plates, it refers to the preceding reference in column three.
Where no plate reference is given, a photo can be found today and browsed under
https://fjms.genizah.org.
93 Images can be found for no. 1 under http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b525032847; no. 9 under
http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/ 12148/btv1b525032919.
94 The fragment is partially preserved with many large holes in the parchment, especially the left hand
column on the verso. Column ra 5 reads ̈ ‫ ܘ‬instead of ‫ ] ـ[ܗ‬p. 183; rb4 read ‫ ] ـ[ܐܪܣ‬instead of ‫;] ـ[ܪܣ‬
rb11 read ‫ ܕܘܐ‬instead of ‫ܕܘܐ‬.
95 Only five remaining fragments are extant, not six as listed under RHT II.9-14 for ff. 1-6. The authors are
confusing here the folio count from the catalogue with the upper text, which comes in bifilios and is not
relevant for the count of the lower CPA text. All five fragments appear together on one image produced
by the Bodleian Library.
96 Old reference number, see n. 18 above.
97 Here still running under the old shelf number Syr. c. 4 (P), ff. 2-4. RHT I.5-8. See n. 18 on this matter.

118
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

Syr. c. 17 (P)v PSS 45; RHT I.3 CCPA IIB 180 pl. XIV
Syr. c. 18 (P)r PSS 45; RHT I.4 CCPA IIB 183 pl. XV
Syr. c. 18 (P)v PSS 45; RHT I.4 CCPA IIB 184 pl. XVI
Syr. d. 32 (P)r PSS 20; RHT IV.2098 CCPA I 200 GFR 187
Syr. d. 32 (P)v PSS 20; RHT IV.20 CCPA I 201 pl. XVII; GFR 188
Syr. d. 33 (P)r PSS 20; RHT IV.1999 CCPA I 43 AO 96 pl. I; pl. II
Syr. d. 33 (P)v PSS 20; RHT IV.19 CCPA I 44 AO 96 pl. II

c) British Library, London

Or. 6581, no. 1r100 PSS 14; RHT XVI.61101 CCPA I 164 pl. IXa
Or. 6581, no. 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.61 CCPA I 164 pl. IXb

d) Cambridge University Library, Taylor-Schechter Collection, Lewis-Gibson Collection,

Cambridge
L-G Glass 1ar PSS 79; RHT XV.54 PST 107 —
L-G Glass 1av PSS 79; RHT XV.54 PST 107 —
L-G Glass 1br PSS 80; RHT XV.55 PST 108 —
L-G Glass 1bv PSS 80; RHT XV.55 PST 108 —
T-S 12.191r PSS 21; RHT XVII.78 CCPA I 203 GFR 205
T-S 12.191v PSS 21; RHT XVII.78 CCPA I 204 GFR 206
102
T-S 12.209r PSS –; RHT IV.23 — —
T-S 12.209v PSS –; RHT IV.23 — —
T-S 12.210r PSS 12; RHT XX.83 CCPA I 105 —
T-S 12.210v PSS 12; RHT XX.83 CCPA I 106 —
T-S 12.211r PSS 32; RHT XII.49 CCPA IIA 180–181 pl. III
T-S 12.211v PSS 32; RHT XII.49 CCPA IIA 182–183 pl. IV
T-S 12.735r PSS —; RHT XII.50103 CCPA I 99 pl. IV
(large fragment)

98 Still running under the old shelf number. RHT IV.21-22, ff. 3-4 are not registered under this shelf mark.
Again the counting of the upper text in the bifolios is mixed with the lower CPA text, which has here
only one folio per siglum. This is very confusing for the reader.
99 The website of the Bodleian Genizah fragments takes Syr. d. 33 (P) and Syr. d. 32 (P) as one identical
CPA manuscript, which is not the case (https://genizah.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/catalog/volume_225; accessed
15 April 2023).
100 For the first mention of the CPA fragment, see Neubauer and Cowley, Catalogue of the Hebrew, col. 74 (no.
2672); Robert Pierpont Blake, “Khanmeti Palimpsest Fragments of the Old Version of Jeremiah”, Harvard
Theological Review 25 (1932), p. 225. On the other two fragments with Georgian see Jost Gippert, “The
Khanmeti Fragment of London”, Gelati Academy of Sciences Proceedings 5 (2019), pp. 167-174.
101 There listed without identification.
102 There exists only one folio under this shelf number for the CPA lower text with Wisdom of Solomon. Delete
no. 24 in RHT, p. 119. Not mentioned in SPV, p. XV.
103 Without identification.

119
 Christa Müller-Kessler

T-S 12.735v PSS —; RHT XII.50 CCPA I 100 pl. V

(large fragment)
T-S 12.735r PSS —; RHT XVI.67104 CCPA I 174 pl. IV
(small fragment)
T-S 12.735v PSS —; RHT XVI.67 CCPA I 175 pl. V
(small fragment)
T-S 12.742r PSS 74; RHT VI.29 CCPA I 140 BSOAS 56:
T-S 12.742v PSS 74; RHT VI.29 CCPA I 141 BSOAS 56:
T-S 12.744r PSS 14; RHT XVI.77 CCPA I 209 pl. XIX
T-S 12.744v PSS 14; RHT XVI.77 CCPA I 210 pl. XX
T-S 12.745r PSS 14; RHT XVI.74 CCPA I 207 —
T-S 12.745v PSS 14; RHT XVI.74 CCPA I 208 pl. XVIII;
GFBR pl. II
T-S 12.746, 1r PSS 57; RHT V.26 FS Desr 234 —
T-S 12.746, 1v PSS 57; RHT V.26 FS Desr 235 —
T-S 12.746, 2r PSS 57; RHT V.27 FS Desr 236 —
T-S 12.746, 2v PSS 57; RHT V.27 FS Desr 237 —
T-S 12.748r PSS 59105; RHT XIII.51 PST 72 —
T-S 12.748v PSS 59; RHT XIII.51 PST 73 —
T-S 12.749r PSS 59; RHT XIV.52 SS 11:133 —
T-S 12.749v PSS 59; RHT XIV.52 SS 11:134 —
T-S 12.750r PSS 59; RHT XIV.53 PST 92 —
T-S 12.750v PSS 59; RHT XIV.53 PST 93 —
T-S 12.751r PSS 77; RHT IX.45 PST 84 —
T-S 12.751v PSS 77; RHT IX.45 PST 85
T-S 12.752r PSS 78; RHT IX.44 PST 86 —
T-S 12.752v PSS 78; RHT IX.44 PST 87 —
T-S 12.753r PSS 66; RHT IX.43 PST 88 pl. VII
T-S 12.753v PSS 66; RHT IX.43 PST 89; SS 11:144 PST pl. VII
T-S 12.755r PSS –; RHT VI.35 CCPA IIB 88 —
T-S 12.755v PSS –; RHT VI.35 CCPA IIB 89 —
T-S 12.756r PSS –; RHT VI.35 CCPA IIB 88 —
T-S 12.756v PSS –; RHT VI.35 CCPA IIB 89 —
T-S 12.757r PSS 76; RHT XXI.84 PST 83 —
T-S 12.757v PSS 76; RHT XXI.84 PST 83 —
T-S 12.758r PSS –; RHT XI.47106 RB ? —
T-S 12.758v PSS –; RHT XI.47 RB ? —

104 Without identification.

105 Incorrectly attributed by Bar-Asher. The text had already been identified with Symboli Nicaeni by Friedrich
Schulthess, Lexicon Syropalestinum (Berlin: Reimer, 1903), p. XVI.
106 Not mentioned in SPV, p. XV.

120
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

T-S 12.759r PSS 66107; RHT XV.56 PST 89 —

T-S 12.759v PSS 66; RHT XV.56 — —
T-S 16.319, 1r PSS 66; RHT V.25 SS 11:146 —
T-S 16.319, 1v PSS 66; RHT V.25 SS 11:147 —
T-S 16.319, 2r PSS 66; RHT V.28 SS 11:148 —
T-S 16.319, 21v PSS 66; RHT V.28 SS 11:149 —
T-S 16.322, 1r PSS 14; RHT XVI.57 CCPA I 153 pl. VII
T-S 16.322, 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.57 CCPA I 154 —
T-S 16.322, 2r PSS 14; RHT XVI.58 CCPA I 155 PST pl. II
T-S 16.322, 2v PSS 14; RHT XVI.58 CCPA I 156 pl. VII
T-S 16.322, 3r PSS 14; RHT XVI.60 CCPA I 162 pl. VII
T-S 16.322, 3v PSS 14; RHT XVI.60 CCPA I 163 —
T-S 16.323, 1r PSS 14; RHT XVI.64 CCPA I 158 —
T-S 16.323, 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.64 CCPA I 159 pl. VIII
T-S 16.323, 2r PSS 14; RHT XVI.65 CCPA I 160 pl. VIII
T-S 16.323, 2v PSS 14; RHT XVI.65 CCPA I 161 PST pl. III
T-S 16.324, 1r PSS 14; RHT XVI.62 CCPA I 165 pl. X
T-S 16.324, 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.62 CCPA I 166 pl. XI
T-S 16.324, 2r PSS 14; RHT XVI.63 CCPA I 167 pl. XI
T-S 16.324, 2v PSS 14; RHT XVI.63 CCPA I 168 pl. X
T-S 16.325, 1r PSS 16; RHT VI.31 CCPA I 189 pl. XVI
T-S 16.325, 1v PSS 16; RHT VI.31 CCPA I 190 PST pl. IV
T-S 16.325, 2r PSS 16; RHT VI.32 CCPA I 191 PST pl. IV
T-S 16.325, 2v PSS 16; RHT VI.32 CCPA I 192 pl. XVI
T-S 16.326, 1r PSS 46; RHT VI.30 CCPA IIB 167 pl. X
T-S 16.326, 1v PSS 46; RHT VI.30 CCPA IIB 168 pl. XI
T-S 16.326, 2r PSS 46; RHT VI.33 CCPA IIB 169 pl. XI
T-S 16.326, 2v PSS 46; RHT VI.33 CCPA IIB 170 pl. X
T-S 16.327, 1r PSS 75; RHT III.16 Apocr 79–80 —
T-S 16.327, 1v PSS 75; RHT III.16 Apocr 80–81 —
T-S 16.327, 2r PSS 75; RHT III.17 Apocr 81–82 —
T-S 16.327, 2v PSS 75; RHT III.17 Apocr 82 —
T-S 16.328, 1r PSS –; RHT VII.37108 — GFR 42
T-S 16.328, 1v PSS –; RHT VII.37 — GFR 43
T-S 16.328, 2r PSS –; RHT VII.38 — GFR 44
T-S 16.328, 2v PSS –; RHT VII.38 — GFR 45
T-S 16.329, 1r PSS 66; RHT IX.41 PST 98 —
T-S 16.329, 1v PSS 66; RHT IX.41 PST 100 —

107 Incorrectly attributed by Bar-Asher, as the text does not fit into the Vita of Antonius.
108 Not mentioned in SPV, p. XV.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

T-S 16.329, 2r PSS 66; RHT IX.42 PST 102

—
T-S 16.329, 2v PSS 66; RHT IX.42 PST 104
—
T-S 16.351, 1r PSS —; RHT III.15 Apocr 78–79
—
T-S 16.351, 1v PSS —; RHT III.15 Apocr 79
—
T-S 16.351, 2r PSS —; RHT III.18 Apocr 83
—
T-S 16.351, 2v PSS —; RHT III.18 Apocr 83–84
—
T-S 16.98r PSS 34; RHT XXII.85 CCPA IIA 185–186
pl. V;
Rabbinowitz109
T-S 16.98v PSS 34; RHT XXII.85 CCPA IIA 187–188 pl. VI
T-S 20.157, 1r PSS 42; RHT VI.34 CCPA IIB 103 pl. V; PST pl. V
T-S 20.157, 1v PSS 42; RHT VI.34 CCPA IIB 104 pl. VI
T-S 20.157, 2r PSS 42; RHT VI.36 CCPA IIB 105 pl. VI
T-S 20.157, 2v PSS 42; RHT VI.36 CCPA IIB 106 pl. V; PST pl. V
T-S 20.158, 1r PSS 46; RHT XVIII.79 CCPA IIB 181 pl. XII
T-S 20.158, 1v PSS 46; RHT XVIII.79 CCPA IIB 182 pl. XIII; PST pl.
VI
T-S 20.158, 2r PSS 46; RHT XVIII.80 CCPA IIB 190 pl. XIII; PST pl.
VI
T-S 20.158, 2v PSS 46110; RHT XVIII.80 CCPA IIB 191 pl. XII
T-S 20.182, f. 1r PSS 8, 35; RHT XXIII.86 CCPA I 80–81 PST pl. I
T-S 20.182, f. 1v PSS 8, 35; RHT XXIII.86 CCPA I 82–83 pl. III
T-S 20.182, f. 2r PSS 8, 35; RHT XXIII.86 CCPA IIA 184 pl. III111
T-S 20.182, f. 2v PSS 8, 35; RHT XXIII.86 CCPA IIA 184 PST pl. I
T-S AS 78.324, 1r PSS –; RHT VIII.39 CCPA IIB 46 pl. I
T-S AS 78.324, 1v PSS –; RHT VIII.39 CCPA IIB 47 pl. II
T-S AS 78.324, 2r PSS –; RHT VIII.40 CCPA IIB 48 pl. II
T-S AS 78.324, 2v PSS –; RHT VIII.40 CCPA IIB 49 pl. I
T-S AS 78.401r PSS –; RHT – Apocr 78 —
T-S AS 78.401v PSS –; RHT – Apocr 79 —
T-S AS 78.402r PSS –; RHT XI.48 CCPA IIA 189 pl. VII
T-S AS 78.402v PSS –; RHT XI.48 CCPA IIA 190 pl. VIII
T-S AS 78.405r PSS –; RHT X.46 CCPA I 19 pl. I
T-S AS 78.405v PSS –; RHT X.46 CCPA I 19 pl. I
T-S AS 78.410r PSS –; RHT XI.48 CCPA IIA 189 pl. VII
T-S AS 78.410v PSS –; RHT XI.48 CCPA IIA 190 pl. VIII
T-S NS 200.49r PSS 14; RHT XVI.67 CCPA I 175 pl. XVa

109 See Zvi Meir Rabinovitz, The Liturgical Poems of Rabbi Yannai according to the Triennial Cycle of the Pentateuch and
the Holidays, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1985), p. 283.
110 Bar-Asher considers these two folios and the other two of T-S 16.326 as one manuscript, which is
definitely not the case, as the codicological items do not agree.
111 Published in CCPA I.

122
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

T-S NS 200.49v PSS 14; RHT XVI.67 CCPA I 176 pl. XVb
T-S NS 249.14r PSS –; RHT XX.82 CCPA I 107 SPV pl. I
T-S NS 249.14v PSS –; RHT XX.82 CCPA I 108 SPV pl. II
T-S NS 258.149r PSS –; RHT – — —
T-S NS 258.149v PSS –; RHT – — —
T-S NS 258.150r PSS –; RHT – — —
T-S NS 258.150v PSS –; RHT – — —
T-S NS 258.401r PSS –; RHT – Apocr 84 —
T-S NS 258.401v PSS –; RHT – Apocr 84 —
T-S NS 301.63r PSS –; RHT – — —
T-S NS 301.63v PSS –; RHT – — —
T-S NS 329.300r + PSS –; RHT VI.29 CCPA I – —
T-S NS 329.300v + PSS –; RHT VI.29 CCPA I – —
T-S NS 329.301r + PSS –; RHT VI.29 CCPA I – —
T-S NS 329.301v PSS –; RHT VI.29 CCPA I – —
T-S NS 329.844, 1r PSS 14; RHT XVI.70 CCPA I 171 pl. XII
T-S NS 329.844, 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.70 CCPA I 172 pl. XIII
T-S NS 329.844, 2r PSS 14; RHT XVI.73 CCPA I 173 pl. XIII
T-S NS 329.844, 2v PSS 14; RHT XVI.73 CCPA I 174 pl. XII
T-S NS 329.845, 1r PSS 14; RHT XVI.71 CCPA I 169 SPV pl. III
T-S NS 329.845, 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.71 CCPA I 170 —
T-S NS 329.563r PSS –; RHT – — GFR 40–41
T-S NS 329.563v PSS –; RHT – — GFR 40–41
T-S NS 329.968, 1r PSS –; RHT XIV.53 — —
T-S NS 329.968, 1v PSS –; RHT XIV.53 — —
T-S, Or 1080.4, 1r PSS 14; RHT XVI.70 CCPA I 169 —
T-S, Or 1080.4, 1v PSS 14; RHT XVI.73 CCPA I 170 —
T-S, Or 1080.4, 2r PSS 14; RHT XVI.71 CCPA I 177 —
T-S, Or 1080.4, 2v PSS 14; RHT XVI.72 CCPA I 178 —
T-S, Or 1085.4r PSS 14; RHT – CCPA I 169 SPV pl. III
T-S, Or 1085.4v PSS 14; RHT – CCPA I 170 —

e) John Rylands Museum, Manchester

Geniza fragment A 12 PSS –; GFBR 208112 — —
Geniza fragment 49 PSS 14; RHT XVI.30.33113— —
Geniza fragment AF PSS –; RHT – — —
299

112 There is no CPA script underneath.

113 At first this text was claimed to have CPA with the Book of Jeremiah underneath, but there one only finds a
Syriac text in Serto.

123
 Christa Müller-Kessler

f) Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology, Philadelphia

E 16507r PSS 15; RHT XVI.76 CCPA I 185 SPV pl. V
E 16507v PSS 15; RHT XVI.76 CCPA I 186 SPV pl. VI

g) Russian National Library, Antonin Collection, St Petersburg

EBP IIIB 958r PSS 14; RHT XVI.75 CCPA I 211 —
EBP IIIB 958v PSS 14; RHT XVI.75 CCPA I 212 —

Appendix114

A. Martyrdom of Philemon BHO 793115 BHG 1514116

T-S 12.750ra – Martyrdom of Philemon, AS 896 § 4 (Lewis and Gibson, PST 93)117
1. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
[. . . . . . ] [......]
‫ ܕ ـ[ܪܘ‬. . . ] [ . . . remem]brance μνημόσυνον
5. ‫ܕ ـ] ـ[ܘܬ‬ of the faith- τῆς ἀπιστίας
‫ܬ‬ ‫ܗ‬ lessness
‫ܐܪ‬ on earth, ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς·
˹‫ܐ ܗܝ ˺ܟ‬ but as ἀλλὰ καθὼς
‫ܠ‬ what
10. ‫ܕ‬ I heard of ἤκουσάς μου
... . . . water ἐν νεφέλῃ ὕδατος
‫ܝ‬ ‫ܕ‬ of my baptism, ἐπὶ τοῦ βαπτίσματος’
‫ܐܘܦ ܘ‬ also now οὕτως καὶ
‫]ܗ[ܘܝ‬ be from me ἄκουσόν μου

114 The underlined letters refer to the readings from Lewis in PST.
115 P. Peeters classifies the CPA fragments there as Syriac!, see on this and other transmissions, Brock, “The
Earliest Syriac Manuscript of the Martyrdom of Philemon”, p. 30.
116 The Greek versions in the Acta Sanctorum and in the Patrologia Gracae hardly correspond to the CPA
version.
117 This is the second text witness of this threefold attested martyrdom, which came to our attention; see
Brock, “The Earliest Syriac Manuscript of the Martyrdom of Philemon”, p. 31. It is written in a very
elaborately script by much distance between the lines as in 1 Titus and 2 Timothy (T-S 20.158).

124
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

T-S 12.750rb – Martyrdom of Philemon, AS 896 § 4 (Lewis and Gibson, PST 93, fragment
XXV)
1. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
[. . . . . . ] [......]
[......] [......]
5. [ ̇ ]‫ܕ ܘ‬ the remembrance τὸ μνημόσυνόν μου
‫ܬ‬ ‫ܕ‬ of the un- τῆς ἀπιστίας,
‫ـ] ـ[ܐ‬ ̈ believers μήποτε ἰδόντες
‫ܕ ܐ ܝ‬ so that αὐτοὺς
‫ܘܣ‬ they will οἱ ἄπιστοι
10. ‫ܘܢ‬ never speak εἴπωσι
‫ܕܗ ܗ ܢ‬ of these being Ἰδοὺ οἱ
‫ܝ‬ ̈ ‫ܐ‬ the flutes αὐλοὶ
‫ܢ‬ ‫ܕ‬ of Philemon. Φιλήμονος τοῦ χοραύλου.
‫ܘ‬ Not now

T-S 12.750va – Martyrdom of Philemon, AS 896 § 4 (Lewis and Gibson, PST 93, fragment
XXV)
1. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
5. [......] [......]
all
‫]ܘ[ܐܬ ـ] ـ[ܘ‬ [and] were filled.
All
‫ܐܘ‬ people,
10. ‫ܠ ܪܗܛ‬ each (of them) ran,
‫ܬܗܘܢ ܐ ̈ ܝ‬ so that you will be
the brothers
‫ܢ‬ ‫ܕ‬ of Philemon.
‫ܗܘ ܐ‬ He said:
[......] [......]
15. [. . . . . . ] [......]
[. . . . . . ] [......]

125
 Christa Müller-Kessler

T-S 12.750vb – Martyrdom of Philemon, AS 896 § 4 (Lewis and Gibson, PST 93, fragment
XXV)
1. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
5. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
he will answer my
brother
‫ܗ‬..... his . . . .
‫ܕ ܛ‬ so that he can curse
10. ̈
‫ܐ ܝ‬ his face.
‫ܐܘܢ‬ ‫ܘ‬ Then now
‫ܣ‬ ‫ܐܪ‬ Arianos
‫ܬ‬ ‫ܗ‬ has his
[...] ‫ܐ‬ belief [ . . . ]
15. [......] [......]
[......] [......]

T-S 12.749ra + T-S NS 329.968ra – Martyrdom of Philemon, AS 899 § 12 (Lewis, SS 11,

fragment XIV)
1. ̈ days
‫ܘܬ‬ and three
‫̈ ܢ‬ nights they sailed
‫ܪ‬ on the river
5. ̈
‫ܕܐܬܨ ܘ‬ where they were
overwhelmed by sleep,
‫ܠܗ‬ each of those
‫ܕܗܘܘ‬ who were
̇ on the ship.
10. ‫ܘ‬ And the captain
‫ܕ‬ who sank
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
15. [. . . . . . ] [......]
[......] [......]

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 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

T-S 12.749rb + T-S NS 329.968rb – Martyrdom of Philemon, AMS 899 § 12 (Lewis, SS

11, fragment XIV)
1. ‫ܐܙ‬ went
̇
‫ܘ‬ and stood
‫ܬܪ‬ at a place
: by itself.
5. ‫ܐ ܕܝ‬ Someone from
‫ܗ ܕܗܘܘ‬ from those
̇ on the ship was
: ‫ܐܬ‬ not
̇
‫ܗܘܬ ܕܝ‬ awake.
10. [‫ـ]ܐ‬ ‫̇ܐ‬ The ship on the sea
:[...] ‫ܘ‬ was not [ . . . ]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[‫]ܐ‬ in [the] sleep
15. ‫˺ܗ˹ܢ‬ he received where
[ . . . ]‫ܕ ـ‬ he revea[led ]

T-S 12.749va + T-S NS 329.968va – Martyrdom of Philemon § 33 (Lewis, SS 11,

fragment XIV)
1. ‫ܐܬܪ‬ the place
‫ܕܗ ܢ‬ where they
̈ are put
̇ ‫ܕ‬ to be for
5. the captain
....
They saw
̈ ‫ܬ‬ the miracles
‫ܕܐܬ ̈ ܘ‬ which were burnt.
10. ‫ܝ‬ He began to praise
‫ [˺ܗ˹ܐ‬. . . . ] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
‫] ـ[ܐ‬ [on] the boat
15. ‫ܘ‬ they remained
̇
‫ [ܝ ܗܘܬ‬. . . ] [ . . . ] was

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T-S 12.749vb + T-S NS 329.968vb – Martyrdom of Philemon § 33 (Lewis, SS 11,

fragment XIV)
1. the town
̈ ‫ܘ‬ and went out
̈ with palm branches
̈ ‫ܘ‬ and with crowns,
5. ̈ ‫ܘܐ‬ and brought
‫ܗܘܢ‬ them
‫ܬܪ‬ to the place
‫ܕ‬ where
̈ were put
10. ‫ܘܢ‬ the bodies
̈ ‫ܕ‬ of the martyrs
[ ] [Christ,]
[‫ܢ‬ ] [Philemon,]
[‫ܣ‬ ‫ܘ]ܐ‬ and [Apollonios,]
15. ‫ܗܕܢ ]ܕܗ[ܘ‬ this one [who w]as
‫ [ܬܕ‬. . . . ] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[. . . . . . ] [......]

B. Vita of Antonius by Athanasius of Alexandria (295-373) BHO 17;118 CPG 2101

T-S 16.319, 1ra – Vita of Antonius § 39 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)119

1. ‫ܘ ܠ ̇ܐ ̈ ܬ ܘܢ‬ and all their manufactured ἐπιτηδεύματα,
stories,120
‫ܐܘܦ ܗ‬ also these ταῦτα
‫ܬܘ ܐ‬ I say again, πάλιν λέγω.
‫ܐ‬ ‘Many Ποσάκις

118 The Greek text is taken from the Patrologia Graeca 26, cols. 900-973. A German edition translated from the
Greek is found in Anton Stegman and Hans Mertel, Leben des heiligen Antonius. Athanasius. Ausgewählte
Schriften, vol. 2 «Bibliothek der Kirchenväter» 1.31 (Munich: Verlag der Jos Köselschen Buchhhandlung,
1917).
119 Punctuation is deviated between two and three dots.
120 Although it is tempting to connect this noun as a derivation of the root š‘’, it is missing the ‘ayin and is
treated here as a masculine plural form. The Mandaic side form ’šw’t 1 cannot be compared to this CPA
noun. It has stayed a hapax legomenon since its first publication in 1902. The solution is probably found in
Pseudo-Jonathan’s translation of Isaiah 25:11 (‫‘ אשיות )ידוהי‬trick(s of his hands)’; see Christa Müller-
Kessler, “‫אשוות‬, ‫ אשיות‬in Targumic Aramaic (Isaiah 25:11) and its Aramaic Cognates”, Revue Biblique 123
(2023) in press.

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5. ‫ܗܘܘ‬ ̈ ‫ܙ‬ times they have ἐμακάρισάν

blessed me, με,
‫ܘܐ ܗܘ‬ and I have κἀγὼ
‫ܘܢ‬ cursed them κατηρασάμην αὐτοὺς
.: ‫ܕ‬ in the name of the Lord. ἐν ὀνόματι Κυρίου.
10. ̈ ‫ܙ‬ Many times Ποσάκις
‫ܗܘܘ ܐ‬ they have spoken προειρήκασι
to me concerning περὶ
[ ‫̈ ܝ ܕ ]ܪ‬ the waters of the riv[er.] τοῦ ποταμίου ὕδατος,
[ ]‫ܘܐ ܗܘ‬ I ha[ve] κἀγὼ
15. [‫]ܐ ـ[ܪ ـ]ܗܘܢ‬ [sa]id to [them] πρὸς αὐτοὺς ἔλεγον·
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]

T-S 16.319, 1rb – Vita of Antonius § 39 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)

1. ‫ܘ‬ ‫ܗ‬ like soldiers ὡς στρατιῶται
: ‫ܘܢ‬ in their armour. μετὰ πανοπλίας.
̈
‫ܘ‬ And they filled the house Καὶ ἄλλοτε ἵππων καὶ θηρίων καὶ
‫̈ ܢܘ ̈ ܢ‬ with horses and animals ἑρπετῶν ἐπλήρωσαν τὸν οἶκον·
5. ‫ܐ‬: ‫ܘ‬ and creepers; I was κἀγὼ
‫ܕܝ ܗܘ‬ singing psalms ἔψαλλον·
‫ܘܐ ܗ‬ and said, ‘Those ‘Οὗτοι
‫ܢ‬ ̈ with horses ἐν ἅρμασι,
: ‫ܘܗ‬ and those with chariots, καὶ οὗτοι ἐν ἵπποις,
10. ‫ܐܘܢ‬ now in the ἡμεῖς δὲ ἐν
‫ܐ ܢ‬ ‫ܕ‬ name of the Lord, our God, ὀνόματι Κυρίου θεοῦ ἡμῶν
‫ܬ‬ : they call (Ps 19:8).’ μεγαλυνθησόμεθα.’ Καὶ ταῖς
With the prayer
̈ ‫ܕܝ ܐܙܕ‬ those were threatened εὐχαῖς ἀνετράπησαν ἐκεῖνοι
‫ܗ‬ by the Lord. παρὰ τοῦ Κυρίου.
̈
15. ‫ܘܐܬܘ ܬܘ‬ They came again Ἦλθόν
‫ܪܢ‬ ‫ܙ‬ another time ποτε
[‫]ܘ‬ in dar[k]ness ἐν σκοτίᾳ,
‫ܘܢ ܕ‬ [‫]ܘ‬ [and] with them an image φωτὸς ἔχοντες φαντασίαν,
‫ ܘܗܘܘ‬: ‫ܕ ܪ‬ of fire. They were καὶ

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

T-S 16.319, 1va – Vita of Antonius § 39 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)

̈
1. ‫ܐܬ‬ ‫ܐ‬ saying, ‘We came ἔλεγον·Ἤλθομεν
‫ܪ‬ to bring light to you, φᾶναί σοι,
‫ܐ‬ ‫ܐ‬ Antonius.’ I Ἀντώνιε. Ἐγὼ δέ,
̈ ‫ܬ‬ closed my eyes121 καμμύων τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς,
5. : ̇ ‫ܘܗܘ‬ while I was praying, ηὐχόμην,
̇ ‫ܘ‬ and immediately the καὶ εὐθὺς ἐσβέσθη
‫ܘܪܗܘܢ‬ light of the despised τὸ φῶς
.: 122 ̈ ‫ܕ‬ was extinguished. τῶν ἀσεβῶν.
‫ܪ‬ ‫ܘ‬ And after Καὶ μετὰ
10. ‫ܨ‬ a few months μῆνας ὀλίγους
̈
‫ܐܬܘ ܗ‬ they came by ἦλθον ὡς
̈ singing psalms ψάλλοντες
̈
‫ܘܐ‬ and speaking words καὶ λαλοῦντες
.: ̈ from the Scripture, ἀπὸ τῶν γραφῶν.
15. ‫ܐ ܕܝ ܗܘ‬ ‘I was ‘Ἐγὼ δὲ
‫ܫ‬ ‫ܗ‬ like a deaf one, I was ὡσεὶ κωφὸς οὐκ
[ ]‫ـ‬ ‫ܗܘ‬ not he[aring.] (Ps 37:14)’ ἤκουον.’
[ ‫ܕܝ ܐܙ ـ] ̈ܙ‬ Once [they] shoo[k up] Ἔσεισάν ποτε
[‫ܐܬܪܗ ܕ ـ] ـ‬ the place of the τὸ μοναστήριον·
ere[m]ite,

T-S 16.319, 1vb – Vita of Antonius § 39 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)

1. ‫ܐ ܗܘ‬ I was ἐγὼ δὲ
‫ܕ‬: ̇ praying so that I ηὐχόμην
‫ܕ ܥ‬ was unmoved ἀκίνητος μένειν
‫ܘ‬:‫ܝ‬ ̈ from my thoughts. τῷ φρονήματι.
5. ‫ܪ ܢ‬ Thus after Καὶ μετὰ
̈
‫ܐܬܘ ܬܘ‬ they came again, ταῦτα πάλιν ἐλθόντες
̈ ‫ܘܗܘܘ‬ while clapping, ἐκρότουν,

121 For the suggestion of this new reading, see Christa Müller-Kessler, “Neue Materialien zum Christlich-
Palästinisch-Aramäischen Lexikon I”, in Markham J. Geller, Jonas C. Greenfield, and Michael Weitzman
(eds.), Studia Aramaica. New Sources and New Approaches «Journal of Semitic Studies Monograph» 4 (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 155.
122 There is no (OLA 248:235), as ̈ is clearly visible and can be also found in my original reading.

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 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

.: [‫ ]ܘ‬123 ‫ܘ‬ and singing, [and] ἐσύριττον,

dancing. ὠρχοῦντο.
‫ܗܘ‬ ‫ܘ‬ And while I was Ὡς δὲ
10. ‫̇ ܗܘ‬ praying I was singing ηὐχόμην καὶ ἀνεκείμην
psalms when ψάλλων κατ᾽ἐμαυτόν,
.: ‫ܪ‬ lying by myself.
‫ܐܬ‬ ‫ܘ‬ And then they became εὐθὺς ἤρξαντο
lax,
̈ ‫ [ܘ‬. . . ] [ . . . ] and wept
15. [ . . . . . ]‫ܗ‬ [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]

T-S 16.319, 2ra – Vita of Antonius § 41 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)

1. ‫ܐܬ‬ was full of λοιπὸν καὶ ἡ ἔρημος πεπλήρωται
‫ܐ‬ eremites124. μοναχῶν. Ἑαυτοὺς
‫ܘܢ‬ ‫ܘ‬ They guarded themselves τηρείτωσαν καὶ μὴ
‫ܘ‬ and they shall not μάτην με
5. ̈ ‫ܘܢ‬ curse me in καταράσθωσαν.
‫ ܘ‬.: vain. And then Τότε θαυμάσας
‫ܐ‬ I praised ἐγὼ τοῦ Κυρίου
‫ܗ‬ the grace τὴν χάριν,
‫ܘܐ ܬ‬ ‫ܕܐ‬ of God and said to him, εἶπον
10. ̈ : ‘From your (early) days πρὸς αὐτόν· Ἀεὶ
‫ܐܬ ܘ ܡ‬ ‫ܕ‬ on you have been a liar, ψεύστης ὢν
‫ܕ‬ and anything of truth you καὶ μηδέποτε
.: ‫ܐ ܬ ܗ ܣ‬ never entirely said. λέγων ἀλήθειαν,
‫ܐܬ ܕܝ ܗܕ‬ You did not speak this ὅμως τοῦτο νῦν,
15. according to your will, καὶ μὴ θέλων,
.: ‫]ܐ ـ[ܪܬ‬ the truth.’ εἴρηκας ἀληθές·
[‫] ـ‬ For [C]hrist ὁ γὰρ Χριστὸς

123 The spelling with he instead of aleph could be due to the fact that from time to time the mixing of guttural
graphemes in the early CPA transmission can occur as in ‫ ܬܗ‬Cyril XI.23 (CCPA V 125) for ‫ ܬܐ‬Cyril
VI.33; X.19 (CCPA V 69; 111) see Christa Müller-Kessler, Grammatik des Christlich-Palästinisch-Aramäischen.
Teil 1, Schriftlehre, Lautlehre, Formenlehre «Texte und Studien zur Orientalistik» 6 (Hildesheim: Olms, 1991),
pp. 43-44. The reading cannot be simply emended without comment as in OLA 248:235.
124 Reading suggestion in Friedrich Schulthess, Lexicon Syropalaestinum (Berlin: Reimer, 1903), p. 13b.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

‫]ܐ[ܬ ܟ‬ [s]tripped off ἐλθὼν ἀσθενῆ

‫ [ܐ‬. . . . . . ] .[.....]

T-S 16.319, 2rb – Vita of Antonius §§ 41–42 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)
1. [‫ܟ ܘ] ـ‬ you and [an]nulled σε πεποίηκε καὶ καταβαλὼν
ἐγύγμνωσεν.
‫ ܘ‬.: ‫ܟ‬ you. And when Ἀκούσας
125
he heard the name δὲ ἐκεῖνος τὸ τοῦ Σωτῆρος
‫ܕ‬ of the Saviour he could ὄνομα καὶ μὴ φέρων
5. not endure the burning τὴν ἐκ τούτου καῦσιν,
‫ܕܐܬ‬ which came
‫ܝܘ‬ upon him and at once
: it was extinguished. ἀφανὴς γέγονεν.
‫ܘ‬ ‫ܐܢ ܐܘܢ‬ (42) If Satan will Εἰ τοίνυν καὶ αὐτὸς ὁ διάβολος
10. now admit ὁμολογεῖ μηδὲν
‫ܕ ܡ‬ that he is not able, δύνασθαι, ὀφείλομεν
‫ܠ‬ : let us go now
‫ܠ‬ ‫ܐܘܢ ܘ‬ and all let us παντελῶς
̇ disdain him καταφρονεῖν αὐτοῦ τε
15. .: ‫ܗ ܘ ̈ ܘܝ‬ and his demons. καὶ τῶν δαιμόνων αὐτοῦ.
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]

T-S 16.319, 2va – Vita of Antonius § 42 (Lewis, SS 11, fragment XXXV)

̈
1. the trickeries τὰς πανουργίας·
‫ ܐ ܕܝ‬.: ‫ܗ‬ in him. We ἡμεῖς δὲ,
‫ܕܐ‬ who recognized μαθόντες αὐτῶν
̈ ‫ܗܘܢ‬ their evilness ἀσθένειαν,
5. ̇ ‫ܐ ܕ‬ can subdue καταφρονεῖν
‫ܘܢ‬ ̈ ‫ܕܐ‬ them αὐτῶν δυνάμεθα.
.: ‫ܕܢ‬ with this knowledge.
̇ ‫ܕܝ‬ Lets us not Τοῦτῳ οὖν τῷ τρόπῳ
̈ proceed μὴ προκαταπίπτωμεν τῇ διανοίᾳ
10. ‫ܕ‬ ̈ to give fear μηδὲ λογιζώμεθα ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ
‫ ܐܘܦ‬: ‫ܬܢ‬ to our understanding. δειλίας

125 This spelling of the perfect with yud is also attested in Cyril XIII.31; XIV.3 (CCPA V 153; 161).

132
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza
̇ Also let us not μηδὲ ἀναπλάττωμεν
̈ consider ἑαυτοῖς
‫ܕ‬ fear in our soul φόβους,
15. : ‫ܐ‬ by saying: when λέγοντες·
[ . . . . . .] [......]
[ . . . . . .] [......]
[ . . . . . .] [......]
[ . . . . . .] [......]

T-S 16.319, 2vb – Vita of Antonius § 42 (SS 11, fragment XXXV)

1. ‫ܐܐ‬ ̇ or suddenly ἢ ἐξαίφνης
.: ‫ܡܘ‬ he will rise and I ἐπιστὰς
will be in confusion. ἐκταράξῃ.
‫ܗ ܣ‬ ‫ܐܘܦ‬ Also not even Μηδ᾽ὅλως
̈ ̇ we think ἐνθυμώμεθα
5. .: ‫ܗ‬ ‫ܕ‬ such things. τοιαῦτα,
̇ ‫ܐܘܦ‬ We should also not μηδὲ
̈ be distressed λυπώμεθα
.: ̈ ‫ܗ ܐ‬ like lost ones. ὡς ἀπολλύμενοι·
‫ܕܝ‬ We will be more θαρρῶμεν δὲ
10. ‫ܕ ܬܪ‬ strengthened, μᾶλλον
‫̇ ܗ‬ ‫ܘ‬ be overjoyed καὶ χαίρωμεν ἀεὶ,
‫ܘ‬: ̈ as being alive. And ὡς σωζόμενοι·
we will think καὶ λογιζώμεθα
‫ܕ‬ in our soul that the τῇ ψυχῇ, ὅτι
‫ܐ ܘܝ‬ Lord is with us, Κύριος μεθ᾽ἡμῶν ἐστιν,
15. ‫ܗܕܢ ܕܙ‬ this one who rebukes ὁ τροπώσας
‫ܘ‬ and makes him void. καὶ καταργήσας αὐτούς.
[ ] ‫ܬ‬ ̇ ‫ܘ‬ We will under[stand] Καὶ διανοώμεθα δὲ καὶ
̈ ‫ܘ‬ and the stories ἐνθυμώμεθα ἀεὶ, ...
[......] [......]

T-S 12.752ra – Vita of Antonius § 89 (Lewis, PST 87, fragment XXI)

1. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
‫ ܐܙ[ܠ‬. . . . ] [ . . . he we]nt Ὁ δέ, ὡς ἀπὸ
[. . . . ] [ . . ] his [ . . . ] ἀλλοτρίας εἰς ἰδίαν
5. [.....] [ . . . ] from ἀπαίρων πόλιν,
‫]ܐ[ܬ]ܪ ـ[ܘ ܝ‬ a foreign place.

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 Christa Müller-Kessler

‫ܗܘ ܕܝ‬ He was χαίρων διελέγετο καὶ

‫ܘܢ‬ commanding them παρήγγελλεν αὐτοῖς
‫ܘܢ‬ ‫ܘ‬ and taught them
10. ‫ܘܢ‬ [ ‫]ܕ‬ [so that] their thoughts μὴ ὀλιγωρεῖν
̈
‫ܗܘܢ‬ should not become ἐν τοῖς πόνοις
‫̈ܘܬܗܘܢ‬ small in their toils
‫ܘܢ‬ ‫ܘ‬ and they should not μηδὲ ἐκκακεῖν
̈ ‫] ـ[ܨ‬ [be] distressed
15. ‫] [ܘ‬ in their asceticism, τῇ ἀσκήσει,
‫ ܐ‬: ‫]ܕ ـ[ـܗܘܢ‬ but ἀλλ᾽ὡς
‫ [ܬ‬. . . ] [....]... καθ᾽ἡμέραν
[......] [......] ἀποθνῄσκοντας ζῆν.
[......] [......]

T-S 12.752rb – Vita of Antonius § 89 (Lewis, PST 87, fragment XXI)

1. [ . . . . ]‫ܘ‬ And [ . . . ] me Καὶ
‫]ܕܐ ـ[ܪܬ‬ what I [sa]id καθὰ προεῖπον
[‫ܢ ] ـ‬ to you. They worry σπουδάζειν τὴν ψυχὴν
̇ ‫ܕ‬ ̈ about the [so]ul so that φυλάττειν ἀπὸ
̈
5. it will give up impure ῥυπαρῶν λογισμῶν·
̇ ‫ ܘܬܗ‬: ̈‫ܨ‬ thoughts. And it will be καὶ τὸν ζῆλον
[ ] ‫ܢ‬ for you an envy [for] ἔχειν πρὸς τοὺς
̈ the saints ἁγίους,
‫ܘܕ ܬ]ܗܘ[ܢ‬ so that you will not μὴ ἐγγίζειν δὲ
10. [ ] be close
[ ]‫̈ ـ‬ to the doubting Μελετιανοῖς
.: ̈ Meletians. τοῖς σχισματικοῖς·
‫ܐܬܘܢ‬ For you recognize οἴδατε γὰρ
‫̈ܗܘܢ‬ their evilness αὐτὼν τὴν πονηρὰν
15. ‫ܗܘܢ‬ ‫ܘܐܦ‬ and also their thinking, καὶ βέβηλον
: ‫ܕܗܝ‬ which is unclean. προαίρεσιν·
‫ܐܘܦ‬ Also not μηδὲ κοινωνίαν ἔχειν
‫ܐܬܘܢ‬ the Arians, τινὰ πρὸς τοὺς Ἀρειανούς·
‫ܬ ̈ܘ ܢ‬ do not join

T-S 12.752va – Vita of Antonius § 89 (Lewis, PST 86, fragment XXI)

1. [......] [......]
‫ [ܬܘܢ‬. . . . . ] [......]

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 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

.: [....] [......]
‫ܢ‬ ‫ܐ‬. ‫ܘ‬. ......
5. ̈ ‫ܕ‬ the judgements Μηδ᾽ἂν θεωρήσητε προϊσταμένους
are comforted αὐτῶν τοὺς δικαστὰς, …
[...] [......]
: ‫ [ ܕܘܢ‬. . . ] [......]
[ . . . ]‫ܕ‬ For [ . . . ]
10. ‫ [ ܘܢ‬. . . ] their [ . . . ]
‫ [ܘܬ‬. . ]‫ܬ‬ [......] …
‫ ܕ‬. . ‫ܘ ܕܢ‬ and for this . . . καὶ πρὸς ὀλίγον
‫ܣ ܐܘܢ‬ of time are now ἐστὶν αὐτῶν
.: ‫ܘܢ‬ their fame. ἡ φαντασία.
15. ‫ܘ ܐܘܢ‬ Therefore guard Καθαροὺς οὖν
‫ܢ‬ yourselves ἑαυτοὺς μᾶλλον
.: ‫ܘܢ‬ from them with purity, ἀπὸ τούτων φυλάττετε,
‫ܘܗܘܘ‬ and observe καὶ τηρεῖτε τὴν τῶν
‫ܪܬ‬ ‫ܗܕ‬ this tradition Πατέρων, παράδοσιν.

T-S 12.752vb – Vita of Antonius §§ 89–90 (Lewis, PST 86, fragment XXI)
1. [......] [......]
[......] [......]
[......] [......]
[ . . . . ]‫ـ‬ [......]
5. [ ‫ܗ ـ] ܬ‬ the beli[ef] προηγουμένως τὴν εἰς
[ . . . ‫ـ]ܐ‬ the prais[e . . . ] τὸν Κύριον ἡμῶν
‫ܕ ܬ ܢ‬ which was with our Ἰησοῦν Χριστὸν
Lord
[‫ـ]ܐ‬ ‫ܣ‬ Jesus Chris[t,] μεμαθήκατε, εὐσεβῆ πίστιν,
[‫ܗܕ ܕ ̈ ܘ]ܢ‬ this which you learnt ἣν
10. ̈ from the Holy ἐκ τῶν γραφῶν μὲν
‫ܐ‬: ̈ Scriptures, παρ᾽ἐμοῦ δὲ
̈ ‫ܙ‬ many times I πολλάκις
[.: ‫]ܢ‬ ‫ܐܕ ܬ‬ remembered yo[u.] ὑπεμνήσθητε.
‫ܕܗܘܘ‬ ‫ܘ‬ And while Τῶν δὲ ἀδελφῶν
15. [ ] ̈ ‫ܐ‬ the brothers were ur[ging] βιαζομένων
[‫ܕ ܪ ـ]ܗܘܢ‬ that he should stay next αὐτὸν μεῖναι
to [them,]

135
 Christa Müller-Kessler

[ . . . ] ̇ ‫ܘܬ‬ and there [ . . . ] παρ᾽αὐτοῖς

[ . . . . . ]‫ܘܕ‬ and of [ . . . . ] κἀκεῖ τελειωθῆναι,
[. . . . . . ] [......]

T-S 12.753ra [v]126 – Vita of Antonius § 92 (Lewis, PST 90; SS 11 , fragment XXIII)
1. ‫[ܪ‬ ] [And afte]r Ταῦτα εἰπών
‫]ܐ ـ[ ܘ‬ they [sa]id,
[‫] ̈ ܗ ـ‬ [th]ese [words,
̈ [‫]ܐ ـ‬ ̈ [the breth]en greeted καὶ ἀσπασαμένων ἐκείνων
5. ̈ ‫] ـ[ܬܗ ܘ‬ [h]im and spread out αὐτόν, ἐξάρας
:‫ܝ‬ ‫ܗ‬ his feet. τοὺς πόδας,
[ ]‫ـ‬ ‫ܘܗ‬ And as frie[nds] καὶ ὥσπερ φίλους
[ ]‫ـ‬ he saw tho[se] ὁρῶν τοὺς
̈
: [ ]‫ܕܐܬܘ ܬ‬ who came th[ere], ἐλθόντας ἐπ᾽αὐτὸν
10. ‫ܘܢ‬ ‫ܘ‬ and on account of καὶ δι᾽αὐτοὺς
‫ܘ‬ ‫ܗܘ‬ them he was joyful, περιχαρὴς γενόμενος
‫ܪ‬ ‫ܗܘ‬ for he was laid out (ἐφαίνετο γὰρ ἀνακείμενος
: ̈
‫ܘܐ ܝ‬ and his shining face, ἱλαρῷ τῷ προσώπῳ)
‫ܐܘܦ‬ ‫ܘܕ‬ and he fell asleep too ἐξέλιπε καὶ
15. ‫ܗܘ ܘܐܬܘ‬ and was added προσετέθη καὶ αὐτὸς
̈
.: ‫] ـ[ܘܬ ܐ ܬܗ‬ [t]o his forefathers. πρὸς τοὺς πατέρας.
‫ـ[ ܕܝ‬ ] [Frien]ds Κἀκεῖνοι λοιπόν,
̈
‫ܗ ܕܐܬ ܘ‬ as commanded, καθὰ δέδωκεν
‫[ ܗ‬ ] [shrouded] his [bo]dy αὐτοῖς ἐντολάς,

T-S 12.753rb [v] – Vita of Antonius § 92 (Lewis, PST 90; SS 11 , fragment XXIII)
1. ‫ܘ ܘ ܗ‬ and buried him θάψαντες καὶ εἰλίξαντες,
‫ܘܐ‬ ‫ܪ‬ in the ground, and ἔκρυψαν ὑπὸ γῆν αὐτοῦ
‫ܥ ܗܢ ܗܘ‬ no one knew where τὸ σῶμα, καὶ οὐδεὶς οἶδε τέως
ποῦ
he was buried except κέκτρυπται πλὴν μόνων αὐτῶν
5. ‫ܕ‬ ‫ܬ ܘܢ‬ for two alone. τῶν δύο.
̈ ‫ܕ‬ ‫ܘܗ‬ And those who took Καὶ τῶν λαβόντων
‫ܘܢ‬ ‫ܠ‬ each of them δὲ ἕκαστος τὴν
‫ܫܕ‬ a leather garment μηλωτὴν
‫ܕ‬ of his own, from

126 The folio was rotated by 180 degrees to be overwritten by the upper script. The recto and verso side for
the lower script deviate from the top script.

136
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

10. ‫ܕ‬ the blessed one τοῦ μακαρίου

. ‫ܐ‬ Antonius. Ἀντωνίου
̇
[‫ܘܗ]ܘ‬ And that garment καὶ τὸ τετριμμένον
‫ܓ‬ [‫ܕ ـ] ـ‬ of the ca[m]el he desired παρ᾽αὐτοῦ ἱμάτιον,
‫ܢ‬ [‫ܗ ـ]ܟ‬ a[s] a great ὡς μέγα
15. ‫ܠ‬ ‫ܪܒ ]ܕܗ[ܘ‬ possession, which χρῆμα
‫ܘܢ‬ each of them φυλάττει.
guarded
.: ‫ܬܗ‬ by himself. For
̈ ‫ܗܘܘ‬ they saw Καὶ γὰρ καὶ βλέπων

T-S 12.753va – Vita of Antonius §§ 92–93 (Lewis, PST 89; SS 11 , fragment XXIII)
1. ‫ܗ ܘܗ‬ it, and as αὐτά, ὡς
‫ܕ‬ they were seeing Ἀντώνιόν ἐστι θεωρῶν·
.: ̈ ‫ܗܘܘ‬ Antonius.
‫ܘ ܗܘܘ‬ And when καὶ περιβαλλόμενος
5. ̈ they clothed it, δὲ αὐτά, ὡς τὰς νουθεσίας
‫ܘ ܗܘܘ‬ they carried it αὐτοῦ βαστάζων ἐστὶ
.: ̈ with joy. μετὰ χαρᾶς.
‫ܗ ܢ ܗܘ‬ Thus is Τοῦτο τῆς ἐν σώματι
‫ܕ ̈ ܝ‬ the end of the life ζωῆς
10. ‫ܕܐ‬ of Antonius Ἀντωνίου τὸ τέλος
.: within the flesh. ἡ ἀρχή.
‫ܘܗܘ ]ܗ[ܘ‬ And that was
[‫]ܕ ــ‬ the end of his [asce]sis, κἀκείνη τῆς ἀσκήσεως
‫ ܐ] [ ܐܢ‬.: ‫ܕ‬ even if καὶ εἰ καὶ
15. ̈ ‫ܐ‬ the words are
‫ܙ ̈ܕܢ‬ small towards μικρὰ ταῦτα πρὸς
‫ܗ‬ ‫ܬ‬ the praise τὴν ἀρετὴν
‫ ܐ‬: ‫ܕܗܘ‬ ̇ of that one, but also ἐκείνου, ἀλλ᾽
‫ܗ ܐܘܦ‬ from these ἀπὸ τούτων

T-S 12.753vb – Vita of Antonius § 93 (Lewis, PST 89; SS 11 , fragment XXIII)

1. [ . . . . . ]‫ܐ‬ [......] λογίζεσθε καὶ
[ ‫ ܗ‬. . ]‫ـ‬ [ . . . as] ὑμεῖς, ὁποῖος ἦν
[ ‫]ܕ‬ [a man] ὁ τοῦ θεοῦ
[ ‫]ܗܘ‬ ‫ܕܐ‬ of God [was] ἄνθρωπος
5. ‫ܐ‬ Antonius Ἀντώνιος,
‫ܬܗ‬ ‫ܕ‬ from his youth ἐκ νεωτέρου

137
 Christa Müller-Kessler
̇ until such μέχρι τῆς τοσαύτης
‫ܬ‬ [ ‫]ܗ ܕ‬ old age ἡλικίας
‫ [ܘܬ‬. . . ]‫ـ‬ with the [ . . ] . . ἴσην τηρήσας τὴν προθυμίαν
10. .: ‫ܕ‬ of ascesis, τῆς ἀσκήσεως,
‫ܐܘܦ‬ also not on account καὶ μήτε διὰ
‫ܬ‬ of the old age he was τὸ γῆρας
‫ܐܬ ܚ‬ overcome by an amount ἡττηθεὶς
: ‫ܕ ܘܢ‬ of rich food, πολυτελείᾳ τροφῆς,
15. ‫ܐܘܦ‬ also not because of μήτε
[‫ܬ]ܗ‬ ‫ܬ‬ the weakness δι᾽ἀτονίαν
‫ܗ‬ ‫ܕ‬ of his body, τοῦ ἑαυτοῦ σώματος
the type ἀλλάξας τὸ σχῆμα
[‫ܗ‬ ]‫ܕܬ ـ‬ of [his] clot[hing] τοῦ ἐνδύματος

C. T-S 12.751r Ephrem, de paenitentia?

1. [....] [......] [......] [......]
[......] [......] [. . . . . . ] [......]
[...]‫ܕ ـ‬ for him who [ . . . ] [.....] [ . . . ] from
[. . . ] ̈ in gods [.....] [......]
5. [...] not [ . . . ] ‫ [ܐ‬. . . . . ] [.....].
[ . . . . ]‫ [ ܘܬ‬. . . . . . ] ‫] ـ[ܢ‬ [o]n account of
[...] ‫[ ܐ‬......] ‫] ـ[ܘ‬ all by the hands
[‫ ܬ ܪ]ܬܗ‬comprehen[sion] ̇ ‫ܕ‬ ‫] ـ[ܐ‬ he cannot
[ . . . ‫ ܕܐ ]ܐ‬of God [ . . .] .: ‫ܐܢ‬. be ashamed of . . .
10. [ . . . ] ‫ ܐ‬no one ‫ܬܪ ܕܝ‬ ‡ ‘More than
[ . . . ]‫ [ ܐܠ‬. . . . . . ] ‫ܬ‬ ‫ܕ‬ the joy
[......] [......] .: ‫‡ ܗܘ ܐ‬ is God (Rom 15:15).’
[. . . . . . ] [ . . . . . . ] ‫]ܐ ـ[ܬ‬ The human-being
‫ܐ‬.. [...] [......] ‫ܕ‬ has what he has
15 ‫ [ܐ‬. . ] ‫ [ ܕܝ‬. . . . . . ] [...] [ . . . ] many
.: [ . . ]‫ـ‬ not [ . . . ] ‫ [ ܬܕ‬. . . . . . ] [......]
̈ For the stones [......] [......]
̈ ‫ ܘ‬and for the wood [......] [......]

T-S 12.751v Ephrem, de paenitentia?

1. [......] [......] [ . . . . . . ] [......]
[......] [......] [ . . . . . . ] [......]
[ . . . . . ]‫ [ ܬ‬. . . . . . ] [ . . . . . . ] [......]
[ . . . ] ‫ ܗܘ‬he [ . . . . ] [ . . . . . . ] [......]

138
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

5. [ . . . . . ]‫ܘ‬ and [ . . . . . . ] ‫ܘܝ‬ [...] [......]

[ ]‫ܗ ܨ ـ‬ as the wi[sh] [. . . ] [......]
[‫ـ ]ܐ‬ ‫ܕܐ‬ of God is al[l], ‫] ܣ[ ܢ‬ [Jesus] our Lord
[‫ܘܙ]ܒ‬ the whole is [......] [......]
save[d],
[‫ܕܐ ]ܐ‬ ‫ܘ‬ and with the might [......] [......]
of Go[d]
10. the whole is [......] [......]
strengthened,
‫ܘ]ܪ[ܘ‬ and his [gr]eatness [......] [......]
[ . . . ]‫ܐܬ ـ‬ you do not ... [......] [......]
[...]‫ܐ ܦ‬ ...[...] [......] [......]
[ ‫ܬ ܘܚ ܗ]ܕ‬ it will fly th[is] [......] [......]
15. [ . . . ‫]ܐ‬ ‫ܕ‬ which the bird [......] [......]
[...]
.: [ . . . ]‫ـ‬ not . [ . . . ] [......] [......]
[ . . . ]‫ܕ ̈ ـ‬ of . . . [ . . . ] [. . . ] [......]
[......] [......] ̈
‫[ ܘ‬...] [......]
[......] [......] ‫ܟ‬ [. . . ] [......]

139
 Christa Müller-Kessler

Abbreviations

AO 93 George H. Gwilliam (ed.), The Palestinian Version of the Holy Scriptures. Five More
Fragments Recently Acquired by the Bodleian Library «Anecdota Oxoniensia,
Semitic Series» I.5 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1893).
AO 96 George H. Gwilliam, Francis C. Burkitt, and John F. Stenning (eds.), Biblical
and Patristic Relics of the Palestinian Syriac Literature from MSS. in the Bodleian
Library and in the Library of Saint Catherine on Mount Sinai «Anecdota
Oxoniensia, Semitic Series» I.9 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1896).
Apocr Christa Müller-Kessler, “Three Early Witnesses of the ‘Dormition of Mary’ in
Christian Palestinian Aramaic from the Cairo Genizah (Taylor-Schechter
Collection) and the New Finds in St Catherine’s Monastery”, Apocrypha 29
(2018), pp. 69-95.
AS Acta Sanctorum for March, vol. I (Antwerp: Plantin, 1668).
BSOAS 38 Sebastian P. Brock, “Review of Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein with the
assistance of Hanan Shirun, The Bible in the Syropalestinian Version. Part I:
Pentateuch and Prophets”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 38
(1975), pp. 141-142.
BSOAS 56 Christa Müller-Kessler, “An Unidentified Christian Palestinian Aramaic
Fragment in the Taylor-Schechter Collection: Isaiah 36:16-37:4”, Bulletin of the
School of Oriental and African Studies 56 (1993), pp. 119-122.
CCPA I Christa Müller-Kessler and Michael Sokoloff (eds.), The Christian Palestinian
Aramaic Old Testament and Apocrypha Version from the Early Period «A Corpus of
Christian Palestinian Aramaic» I (Groningen: STYX, 1997).
CCPA IIA Christa Müller-Kessler and Michael Sokoloff (eds.), The Christian Palestinian
Aramaic New Testament Version from the Early Period. Gospels «A Corpus of
Christian Palestinian Aramaic» IIA (Groningen: STYX, 1998).
CCPA IIB Christa Müller-Kessler and Michael Sokoloff (eds.), The Christian Palestinian
Aramaic New Testament Version from the Early Period. Acts of the Apostles and
Epistles «A Corpus of Christian Palestinian Aramaic» IIB (Groningen: STYX,
1998).
FS Desr Laurent Capron, “Le Fragment araméen christo-palestinien de la vie
d’Abraham de Qidun (MS. 12 746 de la collection Taylor-Schechter):
nouvelles lectures”, in François Briquel-Chatonnet and Muriel Debié (eds.),
Sur les pas des araméens chrétiens. Mélanges offerts à Alain Desreumaux «Cahiers
d’études syriaques» 1 (Paris: Geuthner, 2010), pp. 231-239.
GFBR Michael Sokoloff, The Geniza Fragments of Bereshit Rabba (Jerusalem: The Israel
Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1982) [Hebrew].
GFR Nehemia Alloni, Geniza Fragments of Rabbinic Literature: Mishna, Talmud and
Midrash with Palestinian Vocalization (Jerusalem: Maḳor, 1973) [Hebrew].

140
 Recent Identifications among the Palimpsests from the Cairo Geniza

JSS Christa Müller-Kessler, “Christian Palestinian Aramaic Fragments in the

Bodleian Library”, Journal of Semitic Studies 37 (1992), pp. 207-221.
PSS Moshe Bar-Asher, Palestinian Syriac Studies. Source-Texts, Traditions and
Grammatical Problems (Jerusalem: Diss. Hebrew University, 1977) [Hebrew].
PST Agnes Smith Lewis and Margaret Dunlop Gibson (eds.), Palestinian Syriac
Texts from Palimpsest Fragments in the Taylor-Schechter Collection (London: C. J.
Clay & Sons, 1900).
RB Christa Müller-Kessler, “A New Find Among the Taylor-Schechter
Palimpsests from the Cairo Genizah. A Christian Palestinian Aramaic
Witness of Joshua 7:2c-4; 9b-11a (T-S 12.758)”, Revue Biblique 130 (2023)
[forthcoming].
REJ Judith Olszowy-Schlanger and Roni Shweka, “Newly discovered Early
Palimpsest Fragments of the Talmud Yerushalmi from the Cairo Genizah”,
Revue des Études juives 172 (2013), pp. 49-81.
RHT Michael Sokoloff and Yoseph Yahalom, “Christian Palimpsests from the
Cairo Geniza”, Revue d’Histoire des Textes 8 (1978), pp. 109-132
Sem Laurent Capron, “Deux fragments d’épîtres pauliniennes (1 Thess. et 1 Cor.)
en araméen christopalestinien”, Semitica 61 (2019), pp. 127-137.
SPV Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein with the assistance of Hanan Shirun (eds.), The
Bible in the Syropalestinian Version. Part I: Pentateuch and Prophets «Publications of
the Hebrew University Bible Project Monograph Series» 4 (Jerusalem:
Magnes Press, 1973).
SS 11 Agnes Smith Lewis and Margaret Dunlop Gibson (eds.), An Appendix of
Palestinian Syriac Texts «Studia Sinaitica» XI (London: C. J. Clay & Sons, 1902).
VLR Christa Müller-Kessler with Estella Kessler, “A Palimpsest with the Sermo de
poenitentia by Ioannes Ieiunator (Nεστευτης) in the Christian Palestinian
Aramaic Version from the Lewis-Gibson Collection (PG 88, 1977) (Cambridge
University Library, L-G 1a-b)”, Vatican Library Review [handed in].
VT 10 Willem Baars, “A Palestinian Syriac Text of the Book of Lamentations”,
Vetus Testamentum 10 (1960), pp. 224-227.
VT 11 Willem Baars, “Two Palestinian Syriac Texts Identified as Parts of the Epistle
of Jeremy”, Vetus Testamentum 11 (1961), pp. 77-81

Abstract: The Genizah of the Ben Ezra Resumen: La Genizah de la Sinagoga de Ben
Synagogue in Cairo preserved plenty of text Ezra en El Cairo ha preservado abundante
material, which would otherwise have proven material de textual, que de otro modo habría
a loss for many areas in Jewish studies as well resultado ser una pérdida para muchas áreas de
as Bible, linguistic, lexicographic, or patristic los estudios judaicos, así como para la
research. Of particular interest are the finds of investigación bíblica, lingüística, lexicográfica o
palimpsests with various scripts and languages patrística. De particular interés son los
underneath. The ones with Christian hallazgos de palimpsestos con diversas

141
 Christa Müller-Kessler
Palestinian Aramaic among them form the escrituras e lenguajas debajo. La gran mayoría
majority. It has been one hundred thirty years contienen arameo cristiano palestinense. Han
since the first five palimpsest fragments saw pasado ciento treinta años desde que los
the light of publication. Most of them could primeros cinco fragmentos de palimpsestos
be identified and often attributed to unique salieran a la luz. La mayoría de ellos podrían
textual transmissions. For a number of identificarse y, a menudo, atribuirse a
isolated fragments, it was recently possible to transmisiones textuales únicas. Para una serie
identify specific texts under various Hebrew de fragmentos aislados, recientemente ha sido
hands on badly preserved parchment leaves, posible identificar textos específicos bajo varias
among them Biblical texts previously manos hebreas en hojas de pergamino mal
unattested in Christian Palestinian Aramaic. conservadas, entre ellos textos bíblicos
This provided the impetus to prepare an previamente no atestiguados en arameo
updated list of all palimpsests known to date cristiano palestinense. Esto dio lugar al deseo y
in this Western Aramaic dialect, which is la necesidad de preparar una lista actualizada
presented here in an overview. de todos los palimpsestos conocidos hasta la
fecha en este dialecto arameo occidental, que
presentamos en este trabajo en una descripción
general.

Keywords: Agnes Smith Lewis; Cairo Palabras clave: Agnes Smith Lewis; Genizah
Genizah; Margaret Dunlop Gibson; Ben Sira; del Cairo; Margaret Dunlop Gibson; Ben Sira;
Bible; Ioannes Ieiunator; Joshua; 3 Kingdoms; Biblia; Ioannes Ieiunator; Josué; Reyes 3;
Palimpsests; Taylor-Schechter Collection; Palimpsestos; Colección Taylor-Schechter;
Wisdom of Solomon. Sabiduría de Salomón.

142
To Irene
IN PACE
 Preface

This project has been en route for many years, always there, but never
quite finished. Those who know me, and even those who do not, will
recognize the layers produced by time and location: Gottingen, Prince-
ton, Oslo, Rome, Cambridge, and Chicago. Along the way some aspects
of this study have been made public. My interest in martyria and cov-
ered cemeteries can be found in "Survey and 'New Thesis' on the Bones
of Peter" {BA 32 [1969]: 1-24). Over a period of time that interest led
to the publication of my study of early Christian nonliterary evidence,
Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life before Constantine
(Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1985). More recently interests
in inculturation and inscriptions resulted in a chapter entitled "The
Interaction of Jews with Non-Jews in Rome," in Judaism and Christian-
ity in First-Century Rome (ed. Karl P. Donfried and Peter Richardson
[Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998], 69-90). Forays into the topic of
early Christian architecture can be found in "Early Christian Meeting
Places, Constantinian Basilicas, and Anabaptist Restorationism," Men-
nonite Quarterly Review 20 (1999): 1-7; and "The Aesthetic Origins
of Early Christian Architecture," in Text and Artifact (Waterloo, Ont.:
Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999).
Through the years many people have encouraged me and assisted me
in this project. I would like to express appreciation to all of them indi-
vidually, but that is impossible. I would like to thank David Frantz for
transposing a difficult part of the manuscript, Bryan Miller for critical
computer assistance, and Jeanine Wine for "digital enhancement." In-
deed, most of the figures and photographs have been altered in order to
elucidate the text.
Finally I would like to thank Robert Maccini, John Eagleson, and
Laura Hudson for a remarkable job in editing my manuscript and prepar-
ing it for publication. And, of course, there might not have been a book
without the encouragement and support of friend and colleague Harold
Rast of Trinity Press International.
GRAYDON F. SNYDER
Chicago, Illinois

IX
 Abbreviations

BA Biblical Archaeologist
BJS Brown Judaic Studies
BR Biblical Research
BZAW Beihefte zur ZAW
CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly
EEC Encyclopedia of Early Christianity
EvT Evangelische Theologie
HTR Harvard Theological Review
JAAR Journal of the American Academy of Religion
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JTC Journal for Theology and Church
JTS Journal of Theological Studies
NBAC Nuovo bulletino di archaeologia cristiana
NTS New Testament Studies
RHPR Revue d'histoire et de philosophie religieuses
SICV Sylloge inscriptionem cristianorum veterum musei vaticani
TLZ Theologische Literaturzeitung
VC Vigiliae christianae
ZNW Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft
ZTK Zeitschrift fiir Theologie und Kirche
ZWT Zeitschrift fiir wissenschaftliche Theologie

x
 I

Introduction

In 1991 Canaan Banana, first president of Zimbabwe, made the asser-

tion that the Bible should be rewritten in terms of Shona history and
mythology.1 At first glance the suggestion might seem ludicrous and im-
possible. Upon further reflection, however, Banana's proposal contains
considerable merit. As with many other African nations, Christianity
came to Zimbabwe by means of Western missionaries who based their
own faith on the Western canon. The concerns, the faith, the symbols of
that canon — and its subsequent development — have little to do with
the traditional life and faith of East Africa.
Banana correctly argued that acceptance of the Western Bible entailed
acceptance of another culture, whether or not the Bible was introduced
by Westerners or Africans. In other words, the canon of the Bible as we
know it does not represent, ipso facto, the Christian faith, but rather,
the Greco-Roman adaptation of the Christian faith. Had the initial Jesus
tradition infiltrated a culture other than the Greco-Roman, our canon
would indeed have been formed in quite another way, and the culture it
carried could have been vastly different.
If Banana has correctly described the situation, then Christians of the
twentieth century, or any other time, need to determine the nature of the
Jesus tradition and the means by which it enters any given culture. It
is the intent of this study to describe the missionary style of Judaism at
the time of Jesus, to propose a basic Jesus tradition, to show how two
New Testament writers (Paul and John) handled that Jesus tradition, and
then to demonstrate how the Jesus tradition entered the Mediterranean
culture.
But first, it is important that we define the variety of ways in which,
over the course of Christian history, the Christian faith has approached
other cultures.2

1. See Canaan S. Banana, "The Case for a New Bible," in 'Rewriting' the Bible:
The Real Issues, ed. Isabel Mukonyora, James L. Cox, and Frans J. Verstraelen (Harare,
Zimbabwe: Mambo Press, 1993), 17-32.
2. Works consulted on inculturation and interaction: David J. Bosch, Transforming
Mission (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1991); Ruy O. Costa., ed. One Faith, Many Cul-

1
2 Introduction

Assimilation and Acculturation

Assimilation and acculturation are opposite sides of the same coin. When
two cultures meet, one may assimilate the other, or at least assimilate
its heretofore unknown worldview. From the perspective of the invasive
culture/worldview, when assimilation occurs it has become acculturated.
As we shall frequently note, the process can be one of mutual, though
seldom equal, assimilation and acculturation.
Assimilation occurs within a specific social matrix that, by definition,
must manifest at least some cultural characteristics. A social matrix must
care for its own sense of community and for families within that com-
munity. It must look to a common authority to guide the community
and the individual's participation. It must develop common times and
styles of celebration. Finally, it must define, in some way, the relation-
ship of community to nature (specifically, land). For the purpose of this
study, a social matrix will be defined as a community or series of com-
munities that share a common ethos in regard to community, family,
authority, celebration, and nature. In that sense we will, with some trep-
idation, speak of a Palestinian social matrix, a Roman social matrix, a
Jewish social matrix, and a budding early Christian social matrix. If nec-
essary, we will determine cultural encounter by means of artifacts.3 In
any case, culture then will be defined as the commonly accepted manner
in which a specific social matrix expresses itself. Myth will be under-
stood as the religious or philosophical conviction that holds together the
component parts.
By no means have social scientists agreed on these much discussed
terms. 4 One might understand the process of acculturation in three ways:
(1) acceptance, where one culture takes on another; (2) adaptation, where

tures: Inculturation, Indigenization, and Contextualization (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1988);

Mariasusai Dhavamony, Christian Theology of Inculturation (Rome: Editrice Pontificia
Universita Gregoriana, 1997); Bolaji Idowu, Towards an Indigenous Church (London: Ox-
ford, 1965); Robert Redfield, The Little Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1955); Lamin Sanneh, Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture (Mary-
knoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1989); Peter Schineller, A Handbook on Inculturation (New York:
Paulist Press, 1990); Robert Schreiter, Constructing Local Theologies (Maryknoll, N.Y.:
Orbis, 1985); Aylward Shorter, Toward a Theology of Inculturation (Maryknoll, N.Y.:
Orbis, 1988).
3. Culture may be defined as a social network for dealing with common structural
realities (Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Culture [New York: Basic Books, 1978],
89), or, in a more archaeological way, as occupants of archaeological sites with like arti-
facts (Bruce G. Trigger, Gordon Childe, Revolutions in Archaeology [New York: Columbia
University Press, 1980]; Gordon Childe, The Dawn of European Civilization [New York:
Knopf, 1958], vi).
4. Melville J. Herskovits, Acculturation: The Study of Cultural Contact (Gloucester,
Mass.: Peter Smith, 1958).
Introduction 3

the elements of the two cultures combine to produce a culture that ex-
presses both; (3) reaction under pressure, where one culture acquiesces
to another simply in order to survive.5

Enculturation

Within the social matrix there must be a method for establishing the
validity of the dominant culture and its mythology. Children born into
the matrix will be formed and educated to accept the dominant sys-
tem. We call that enculturation. More complicated than the formation
of children would be the enculturation of adult converts. Once Christian
communities were established, how did they enculturate non-Christians?
Obviously, Paul addresses this question when he advises the Corin-
thian Christians not to eat meat offered to idols (1 Cor. 10). Some
new converts needed to know that their paradigm shift also entailed a
cultural shift.

Cultural Domination

Though destruction of another culture was not an option for either Jews
or Christians in the early centuries of the Roman Empire, eventually, and
especially in the nineteenth century, it became the rule. The procedure
is well known and widespread. A more dominant culture forces a less
dominant culture to give up its characteristics and its method of encul-
turation. The Christianity of the more powerful culture then replaces
the "pagan" culture of the oppressed group. Cultural domination nor-
mally occurs in situations where the Christian power holds a military
or political advantage. However, there are other possibilities. A superior
patronage system can make it advantageous for persons in the disadvan-
taged culture to "convert." Though less obvious, there are, of course,
historical moments when the infrasystem of the dominant culture — in-
tellectual clarity, moral superiority, or linguistic universality — make it
advantageous for the less useful system to be discarded.
In Zimbabwe, Christian missionaries discouraged the function of the
ancestral spirits and created, consequently, a more Western individuality.
Western missionaries also introduced a calendar, as a system of celebra-
tion, that functioned well in the north (Christmas at the winter solstice),
but did not utilize the Shona tribal calendar. The list of "dominations"
seems endless!

5. Herskovits, Acculturation, 135-36.

4 Introduction

Liberation
Starting in 1971, with the publication of Gustavo Gutierrez's Theology of
Liberation, much of Christian action in developing countries has been to
free people from domination either by outside powers or within the coun-
try. For those who might be designated "liberation theologians," theology
is a "critical reflection on Christian praxis in the light of the Word." 6
Liberation has the opposite intent of domination: it calls for freedom
from all forms of colonial oppression. For over thirty years liberation
theology has been the guiding perspective for thinkers from developing
countries. Insofar as it calls for a shift in political and economic power,
it tends to have a Marxist sociological base. Consequently it does wish
for people from developing countries to discard those cultural patterns
that might be susceptible to domination by an aggressive outside power.
Understood this way, liberation theology does not engage the primary
culture — if anything it encourages its demise. Liberation theologians
do not speak extensively of a replacement culture. They do, however,
strongly encourage popular cell groups called "base communities." 7

Inculturation
In recent years a new term has surfaced to describe a style of mission that
allows for an aggressive promotion of the Jesus tradition without seeking
to dominate or destroy another culture. Pedro Arrupe, of the Society of
Jesus, has defined inculturation as "the incarnation of the Christian life
and of the Christian message in a particular cultural context, in such
a way that this experience not only finds expression through elements
proper to the culture in question, but becomes a principle that animates,
directs and unifies the culture, transforming and remaking it so as to
bring about 'a new creation.' " 8 Although Arrupe moves more toward an
intentional result than is appropriate, the perception is correct. The Jesus
tradition enters a social matrix, uses the cultural elements, and may in
an undetermined way create a new culture that expresses the Christian
faith for that matrix.
6. Gustavo Gutierrez, A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics, and Salvation
(Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1973), 13. See Priscilla Pope-Levison and John R. Levison, Jesus in
Global Contexts (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1992), 186-88; David B. Batstone,
From Conquest to Struggle: Jesus of Nazareth in Latin America (Albany: State University
of New York Press, 1991), 20.
7. Batstone, From Conquest to Struggle.
8. Pedro Arrupe, "Letter to the Whole Society on Inculturation," Aixala 3 (1978):
172-81. Mariasusai Dhavamony says that "the message ought to be embodied in the soul of
the people as it relates to their culture" (my translation) ("Problematica dell'inculturazione
del Vangelo oggi," in Evangelizacion de la cultura e inculturacion del Evangelio [Buenos
Aires: Editorial Guadalupe, 1988], 145).
Introduction 5

We look primarily to the New Testament for the way Christian

inculturation operates. The Jesus tradition, lacking specific cultural
components, infiltrated the Mediterranean world in such a way that
eventually a Christian civilization was formed out of Greco-Roman in-
gredients. The New Testament canon reflects, then, that process of fusing
the Jesus tradition with the culture(s) of the Mediterranean social matrix.

Mutual Culturation and Interaction

Of course, any cultural interchange must result in a mutual influence.
The charismatic revelation of the prophet will need to be adapted to
any given social matrix, and that social matrix will be altered in the
process. At the same time, the revelation itself may be permanently mod-
ified. Thus, the Jesus tradition so altered the Greco-Roman culture that
a Christian empire was formed, but at the same time the Jesus tradition
became a creedalistic formulation that we have to come call "Christian
orthodoxy" — an orthodoxy that did not exist in the first centuries of
the faith. On the positive side, when two disparate cultures share their
understanding of a common text (e.g., the Bible), they serve to correct
and enrich one another's understanding of the original source. In fact,
despite Western emphasis on the objectivity of history, there may be no
other way to grow in understanding than through cultural interaction.
 2

The Jesus Tradition

The mission of Jesus must relate, in some sense, to the mission of con-
temporary Jews. One supposes the validity of that presupposition, but
admittedly it may not be important. In isolating the Jesus tradition we
are not asking about the historical Jesus, but only what the earliest fol-
lowers considered important. The earliest followers of Jesus may well
have come from a specific segment of Judaism (e.g., apocalypticists) or
may even represent a more Hellenistic viewpoint than what we think of
as Palestinian Judaism. Nevertheless, the first followers were Jews, and
what they found most important must reflect also their sense of mission.
So the question of inculturation in the Jewish sense of mission ought not
to be overlooked.

Jewish Missionary Activity

In recent years few issues have attracted more attention than the nature
and scope of Jewish missions in the period around the first century C.E.1
One is hard put to explain why the issues of proselytes and God-fearers
have grown in importance. Certainly one reason would be demographic:
how does one explain a seeming phenomenal growth of Judaism in
the Diaspora? Or was there such a growth? Another reason would
be the continuing discovery of synagogues and inscriptions that point
to the presence of God-fearers in Diaspora Jewish communities. Or,
for some, the explosion of Christianity, a form of Judaism, requires an
explanation.
The major argument for a Jewish mission derives from demographic
data. The expansion of Judaism in the Diaspora was indeed phenomenal,

1. Louis H. Feldman, Jew and Gentile in the Ancient World: Attitudes and Interactions
from Alexander to Justinian (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993); see the
critical review by Collins in/BL 113 (1994): 716-18. A minimalist view of Jewish missions
can be found in Martin Goodman, "Jewish Proselytizing in the First Century," in The Jews
among Pagans and Christians in the Roman Empire, ed. Judith Lieu, John North, and Tessa
Rajak (London: Routledge, 1992), 53-78. Note also J. Goldstein, "Jewish Acceptance and
Rejection of Hellenism," in Aspects of Judaism: Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, ed.
E. P. Sanders (London: SCM, 1981), 2:64-87.

9
10 Inculturation in the New Testament

even if Baron and Feldman have overestimated.2 But lacking clear evi-
dence regarding proselytes, one can still explain the growth as increased
emigration from Palestine (Philo, Moses 2.232 [42]) or as general growth
among Jewish families, who surely did not practice infanticide, or even
otherwise did not attempt to control the birth process (Tacitus, Hist. 5.5).
Buttressing this latter explanation is the lack of evidence for missioners
who attempted to convert Gentiles to Judaism. On the other hand, there
are some pieces of literature that seem to have been written to attract
Gentiles to Judaism (e.g., Joseph and Aseneth).3 Yet, even if such liter-
ature did exist for that purpose, to what extent would that account for
large numbers of conversions? Who had access to such expensive, unique
literature, or, lacking wide distribution, under what circumstances would
it have been read to large audiences? A social context for missionary
literature, sans missioner, seems totally lacking.
If it were not for a few literary notices, one would never suspect that
Judaism at the time of the New Testament was involved in missionary
activity to any great extent. One such passage, "Woe to you, scribes and
Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cross sea and land to make a single con-
vert, and you make the new convert twice as much a child of hell as
yourselves" (Matt. 23:15), has been taken to demonstrate a missionary
movement. But such passages are rare. This one more likely reflected
the attitude of the Matthean community toward Judaism. The Matthean
Christian community, presumably not far distant from an Antioch syna-
gogue, used Septuagintal language of persecution and division to indicate
why they, as a Jewish sect, ought to be distinguished from other Jews.
This Matthean saying, using language of the Exodus, differentiates the
mission of the Christians from that of the Jews, and indeed may, with
irony, refer to one Jewish proselyte, perhaps even a well-known convert
(as in the case of Eleazer's conversion of Izates, king of Adiabene4).
For this study, the demographically accurate growth of Judaism is not
in itself important. The nature of inculturation is. Can we determine,
from the fairly sparse evidence, what cultural impact the Jewish mis-
sion had and/or what impact Jewish leaders intended to have? Judaism
apparently attracted persons who sought a more "reasonable" faith; per-
sons who, distraught over current morality, sought a more life-affirming
ethic; and persons who married into the Jewish community.5 Not all of

2. Salo Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1937); Feldman, Jew and Gentile.
3. P. Dalbert, Die Theologie der Hellenistich-Judischen Missionsliteratur unter Aus-
schlufi von Philo und Josephus (Hamburg-Volksdorf: H. Reich, 1954). See Goodman,
"Jewish Proselytizing."
4. Goodman, "Jewish Proselytizing," 76.
5. Soonyeol Song, The Portraits of Cod-Fearers in Acts of the Apostles: Its Histori-
The Jesus Tradition 11

those attracted became converts or, if the term applies, proselytes. Jews
apparently were, for the most part, willing, or even eager, to accommo-
date such sympathizers. As for the sympathizers, they attended meetings,
participated in some parts of the worship (prayer), and contributed to
welfare programs as well as the upkeep of the synagogue. One presumes
that they may have represented the concerns of the Jews to the local
town council. In that capacity, the sympathizers could serve as a buffer
between Jews and non-Jews.
There is little reason to suppose that sympathizers held to the specific
laws of Judaism, especially dietary laws. Although they must have met on
the Sabbath with the congregation, and would have heard the reading of
the Septuagint and the recitation of prayers, there is no reason to suppose
that they kept Sabbath rules. And the men were not circumcised. We
cannot use the book of Acts as a valid source for Jewish inculturation, but
the above observations do fit well with the picture given us by Luke. The
sympathizer Cornelius, Luke's first Greco-Roman non-Jewish Christian,
"was a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms
generously to the people and prayed constantly to God" (Acts 10:2). The
first Greco-Roman woman, Lydia, also a God-fearer, attended prayer
regularly at the riverside outside the city gate (Acts 16:13-14).
Because Jewish sympathizers did not follow dietary and ceremonial
laws, social contact with birthright Jews must have been limited. And,
indeed, non-Jewish writers frequently noted the antisocial behavior of
Jewish people.6 In order to create the possibility of Jewish and non-Jewish
table fellowship, much of the book of Acts describes the way in which
the new Christian commensalism was made possible.

Cornelius (Acts 10:1-11:18)

In Acts the narrative of Cornelius plays a critical role. The God-fearing
centurion had already been attached to Judaism, but is told of a new
possibility for sharing in Judaism (10:4-6). At the same time, Peter is pre-
pared for the meeting with Cornelius by means of a vision regarding clean
and unclean food (10:9-16). It seems probable that Luke has wrapped
a story regarding Peter and Jewish dietary laws into a table fellowship
narrative. Indeed, the point of the Cornelius story rests in 10:23-29.
Cornelius, with his Gentile friends, awaits the unknown Peter. The point
is made when Peter enters the house of Cornelius: Cornelius is so over-
whelmed by the dissolution of racial boundaries that he falls down and

cat Background and Literary Function (Ph.D. diss., Chicago Theological Seminary, 1995);
Goodman, "Jewish Proselytizing"; Menahem Stern, Greek and Latin Authors on Jews and
Judaism, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: Israel Academy of Science and Humanities, 1974).
6. Song, Portraits of God-Fearers.
12 Inculturation in the New Testament

worships Peter. Responding to that action, Peter says, dvaoTnGi- m i eyco

amdc, av9pa>7i6c; eiu.i. (10:26) — that is, he, Peter, is a human being just
like Cornelius. The wall between Jew and Gentile has been abolished!
Peter summarizes the situation with what God showed him: he should
not call any person KOIVOV rj dKdGocpxov (v. 28). So the distinction in 10:14
actually applies to humans not animals. Nevertheless, it is the abolition of
the dietary laws that makes it possible for Peter e7ti|ietvai fi|iepa<; (10:48,
note also v. 23). After accepting the hospitality of Cornelius and his faith
community, Peter begins his speech with the declaration that any one
who fears God and does what is right will be acceptable to God. Peter
has articulated what is minimally expected in order for table fellowship to
occur: 6 (poPouuBvoc; a w o v [Gedv] KCCI epyatpiievoc; 5iKcaoowr|v (10:35).
With that, the Gentile Pentecost occurs, so that they too speak in tongues
and extol God. The new community of faith is then baptized (10:48).

The Noachic Code (Acts 15:1-35)

A more direct set of expectations for new Christians, though consid-
erably more perplexing, can be found at the critical apostolic council.
Luke has described a meeting of the first Christians with the express pur-
pose of discussing the validity of the Gentile mission. Paul and Barnabas,
back from a successful mission in Asia Minor, attend the meeting as the
main protagonists. Some of the more conservative Jerusalem Christians
insist that the Gentiles must be treated as proselytes. They must be cir-
cumcised and follow the law of Moses (Acts 15:5). That is to say, some
Jewish-Christians did not perceive the Way as a movement other than
a Jewish deviation. It was Peter, with his Cornelius experience behind
him, who insisted that the new faith was a more universal expression
of Judaism. Peter won the day. The final compromise reached was the
imposition of the so-called Noachic code on all Gentile converts. Ac-
cording to the Talmud, God gave to Adam six laws, and subsequently
to Noah a seventh, which were binding on all humankind. 7 There were
six prohibitions: against idolatry, blasphemy, murder, adultery, robbery,
and eating meat taken from a living animal. The one mandate was to
establish courts of justice.
Given Luke's predilection for Septuagintizing and his rather obvious
reversal of that historical structure as found in the Priestly document, it
is not surprising that he would reach back to Noah and the Noachic code
for a minimal set of human standards. The three regulations are absten-
tion from the pollution of idols, from unchastity, and from blood. 8 The

7. Mercer Dictionary of the Bible, s.v. "Noachic Laws," 618.

8. The fourth regulation — abstention from what is strangled — has a somewhat du-
The Jesus Tradition 13

most apparent way of interpreting these three (or four) abstentions is

to retranslate them as abstention from idolatry, immorality, and murder.
Translators have indeed felt the necessity to make of these standards
something worthy of universal acceptance. Some early copyists even
added the negative Golden Rule (notably D and Irenaeus). But perhaps
our desire for some Kantian universal has hidden the real meaning from
us. The issue was not minimal behavior but acceptable communion. On
what basis could Jews and non-Jews exist at a common table and in com-
mon worship? If that is the issue (as in Gal. 2:11-21), then the apparent
reason for the apostolic council — whether Gentiles should be circum-
cised — does not refer to faith but to acceptable communion. The council
decides against required conversion but asks for sensitivity in matters
of religious table fellowship: abstention from serving meat offered to
idols, from hierodulic worship (e.g., Dionysiac rites), and from the use
of animals with their blood (life) still in them. According to the Acts
15 council, then, commensalism between Christian Jew and Christian
non-Jew would be possible.

Jewish Inculturation at the Time of Jesus

Generally speaking it would not seem that Judaism was mission-oriented
during the first centuries of the common era. Estimates of a rapid growth
of Judaism are questionable as to numbers or as to means of growth.
Concomitantly there is little indication of any Jewish cultural takeover
(cultural domination). To the contrary, popular Judaism was influenced
by the Hellenistic culture as thoroughly as Christianity. A nearly complete
list of symbols used by Jews through the sixth century shows ninety-seven
decorations and symbols of which only the etrog, lulab, menorah, and
shofar became consistent signs of Jewish identity.9 For the most part the
remaining ninety-three symbols come from either the general Hellenis-
tic culture (zodiac signs, garlands) or, occasionally, come from Jewish
life (the Torah shrine). Although many of these symbols show accultura-
tion from Hellenism, no Jewish symbols became a part of the Hellenistic
symbol system.10
Judaism at the time of Jesus was not extensively mission-oriented. Not
only did Jews eschew conversionary activities, but there is practically no

bious textual basis. Mbachu Hilary maintains that the Noachic code was an attempt to
implement Christian inculturation (Inculturation Theology of the Jerusalem Council in
Acts 15: An Inspiration for the Igbo Church Today [Frankfurt: Peter Lang], 1995).
9. Jacob Neusner, Symbol and Theology in Early Judaism (Minneapolis: Fortress,
1991), 142-71.
10. Leonard V. Rutgers, "Archaeological Evidence for the Interaction of Jews and Non-
Jews in Late Antiquity," American Journal of Archaeology 96 (1992): 101-18.
14 Inculturation in the New Testament

indication that Jewish culture (writings, art, education, language, music,

festivals) infiltrated Mediterranean culture (although Roman culture may
be deeply indebted to the Jews for a lunar calendar). Although some
Gentiles must have worshiped with Jews and contributed financially to
the work of the synagogue, basically, Jewish inculturation did not occur.

God-fearers
The identification of the God-fearers is probably one of the most dis-
cussed and disputed issues in Lukan studies. It has been assumed that
the earliest apostles went first to Jews with the message about Jesus.
When the Jews rejected this message, they carried the mission to Gentiles.
However, there existed a third group, the God-fearers, who were indeed
Gentiles, but were attracted to, if not attached to, Judaism and local syn-
agogues. In other words, the God-fearers served as the bridge whereby
the mission shifted to the Gentile world. This thesis has been challenged,
perhaps most vigorously by Thomas Kraabel, who doubts that the cate-
gory "God-fearers" existed historically.11 First, he argues that although
Luke uses the terms (po|3oa)U£vo<; and OE$6\1£VOC, to describe such a Gentile
category, these terms never appear in inscriptions. The inscriptional term
customarily taken as referring to God-fearers is 0eoo~epf|c,, a term that
refers exclusively to Jews. Secondly, there is no hint from the material ev-
idence that Jews were interested in missionary outreach of any kind. And
finally, the literary evidence depends almost entirely on Luke's ahistorical
thesis in Acts. On the basis of these observations, Kraabel comes to the
following conclusions: (1) The word "synagogue" is used in Acts chiefly
to designate the place where Diaspora Christian missionary preaching
begins — with one exception (18:26). (2) Paul is the synagogue preacher.
After his conversion, Paul's first act is to preach in the synagogue. This
is particularly striking in view of the fact that the word "synagogue" is
not used once in the letters written by Paul. (3) Luke wishes to show that
the missionary path to the Gentiles was through the Jews. Cornelius is
the archetypal God-fearer. After him no other God-fearer is described.
In fact only two others are named: Lydia in 16:14 and Titius Justus in
18:7. After 18:7 there is a sudden disappearance of the God-fearers, and
Kraabel reasons that God-fearers might have served their purpose in the
plot of Acts. So, Acts cannot be used as evidence that such groups ever

11. Thomas A. Kraabel, "The Disappearance of the Godfearers, Numen 28 (1981):

113-26; "The Roman Diaspora: Six Questionable Assumptions," Journal of Jewish Stud-
ies 33 (1982): 445-64; "Greek, Jews and Lutherans in the Middle Half of Acts," HTR 79
(1986): 147-57; "The God-fearers — A Literary and Theological Invention," Biblical Ar-
chaeology Review 64 (1986): 47-54; "The God-fearers Meet the Beloved Disciple," in The
Future of Early Christianity, ed. Birger A. Pearson (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 276-84.
The Jesus Tradition 15

existed in the synagogues of the Roman Empire. The God-fearers are

a symbol to help Luke show how Christianity had become a Gentile
religion legitimately, without losing its roots in Hebrew Scriptures.
Kraabel's thesis has appealed to some.12 Others find it difficult to
accept.13 Objectors point to the presence of inscriptions and the pre-
supposition that Jews did indeed encourage Gentile participation in the
life of the synagogue.

Inscriptions Found in the Region of Asia Minor

Panticapaeum
In 1935 a first-century inscription was published that indicated the pres-
ence of God-fearers in the synagogue of this Black Sea community. The
inscription mentions that the son of a slave had the protection ir\q
cuvaYcoyfjc; xcov 'Io\)8aicov Kal Geov oePcov.

Miletus
A second-century inscription from Miletus has been published recently
that reads: ToTtoc, EicuSecov -tSv KCXI GeooePiov. It was discovered on a seat
in the fifth row of the theater and probably reflects the inability of the
stone mason to distinguish between Jews and God-fearers. If so, we have
a fairly certain indication that a group called God-fearers were associated
closely with the Jews (and also attended non-Jewish entertainments). 14

Sardis Synagogue
Of over eighty Greek inscriptions in the synagogue six make reference to
a GeoceP'pc, (nos. 22, 57, 59, 66, plus two without standardized number).
The term must refer either to Jews who considered themselves especially
pious or to a class of non-Jews who also participated in the life of the
synagogue.15

12. Thomas H. Finn, "The God-fearers Reconsidered," CBQ 47 (1985): 75-84.

13. John G. Gager, "Jews, Gentiles, and Synagogues in the Book of Acts," HTR 79
(1986): 91-99; The Origin of Anti-Semitism: Attitudes toward Judaism in Pagan and
Christian Antiquity (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985).
14. H. Hommel, "Juden und Christen im kaiserzeitischen Milet," Mitteilungen des
Deutschen Archaologischen Instituts, Istanbuler Abteilung 25 (1975): 167-95; B. Lifshitz,
"Du nouveau sur les 'Sympathisants,' " Journal for the Study of Judaism 1 (1970): 77-84;
Paul R. Trebilco, Jewish Communities in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991).
15. Thomas A. Kraabel and Andrew R. Seager, "The Synagogue and the Jewish Com-
munity: Impact of the Discovery of the Sardis Synagogue," in Sardis from Prehistoric
to Roman Times: Results of the Archaeological Exploration of Sardis 1958-1975, ed.
G. M. A. Hanfmann (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983), 178-90; Trebilco,
Jewish Communities, 158-59.
16 Inculturation in the New Testament

Aphrodisias
The most significant indication of the historicity of God-fearers as a
group and their presence in the synagogue comes from the discovery in
Aphrodisias of an early third-century Jewish stele having two faces. The
stele commemorates persons who have been involved in the construction
of a memorial building. Face A of the stele contains many names that
are biblical, but also references to three people designated by the term
7ipoo~f|A,moc, and two others by the term QEOOE$r\c). Face B contains two
lists. The upper section contains Jewish names, but the second list is in-
troduced by the phrase Kcri oaoi Geooeptc;. There are fifty-two persons
in this list, with non-Jewish names, who obviously have contributed in
some way to the building under construction. At least two appear to
participate in Jewish religious activities.16

Tralles
A third-century inscription refers to the completion of Capitolina's pledge
to contribute a certain building in Tralles, presumably a synagogue. Capi-
tolina speaks of herself as KaTtexcoXTva f| 6fy.6Xoy{oc,) icai Qeooe$(r\q).
Capitolina was Claudia Capitolina, daughter or sister of Claudius Capi-
tolinus Bassus, proconsul of Asia and member of a highly distinguished
family. Obviously she was not born a Jew, but must have participated in
the life of the synagogue in order to be known as Q£0O£$r\c,.

Deliler
A certain Eustathios contributed a wash basin to the holy synagogue
of the Hebrews. In this third-century inscription he identifies himself as
E\)OT&8ioc,, 6 0eoaepf|c,. Of course, he could be a pious Jew.
God-fearers are mentioned in a few other inscriptions that have been
found outside the Asia Minor region. 17 Admittedly, the epigraphic data
is slight, but there is enough to indicate that some non-Jews were known
as God-fearers, that they participated in the life of the synagogue, and
contributed to Jewish causes and financial campaigns. But the scant ev-
idence does not support those who speak of thousands of God-fearers
attached to or converted to Judaism. Martin Goodman has written an
important study on the nature of conversion in the time of the Roman
Empire.18 He suggests four types of mission activity: (1) informative —

16. Joyce Maire Reynolds and Robert F. Tannenbaum, Jews and Godfearers at
Aphrodisias: Greek Inscriptions with Commentary, Cambridge Philological Society Sup-
plementary Volume 12 (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1987).
17. Irina Levinskaya, The Book of Acts in Its Diaspora Setting (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1996).
18. Martin Goodman, Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History
of the Roman Empire (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994).
The Jesus Tradition 17

the desire to disseminate a message; (2) educational — the desire to pro-

mote a better life; (3) apologetic — the desire to seek recognition for the
power and nature of a particular divine being; (4) proselytizing — the
desire to recruit new members for the religious society. Goodman argues
that most religions of the ancient world were not conversionary in the
sense of attempting to acquire new members. The epigraphic evidence for
massive conversions is nearly nil, and very few Jews speak of concerted
missionary activity. Oddly enough, the sense of intense Jewish mission-
ary activity comes from Christians who take very seriously the presence
of the God-fearers of Acts, and Jesus' attack in Matt. 23:15:

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cross sea
and land to make a single convert, and you make the new convert
twice as much a child of hell as yourselves.

As previously stated, this intense attack on the Pharisees reflects more

the attitude of a Jew, Jesus, against a specific party of Jews, not the
attack of Christians on Judaism as a whole. The data does not sup-
port the presupposition that Judaism converted many Gentiles to a class
called God-fearers who then wholesale shifted to Christianity. This does
not deny the possibility that many Gentiles were attracted to the high
level moral and theological presentation by Diaspora Jews. This group,
called God-fearers in Acts, was sympathetic to Paul, and indeed may have
formed part of the early "Christian" nucleus. Luke includes this group
of former Gentiles with the receptive group of Jews. 19

The Jewish Jesus in a Palestinian Culture

How, then, did Jesus relate to his own social matrix? It has become
commonplace to describe Jesus as a wandering charismatic who im-
pacted Palestinian culture. Although other scenarios are possible—Jesus
as a teacher,20 or Jesus as a revolutionary 21 — it is nearly impossible to
deny the early tradition that Jesus was seen as a powerful, revelatory

19. Ernst Haenchen suspects that the term 7tpoor|A.\)xoi in 13:43 was a gloss. Originally
it must have referred to God-fearers (The Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary, trans.
B. Noble and Gerald Shinn [Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971], 413 n. 5.
20. Vernon Robbins, Jesus the Teacher: A Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation of Mark
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984); Ernest Best, Disciples and Discipleship: Studies in the Gos-
pel According to Mark (Edinburgh: T. &c T. Clark, 1986); Rainer Riesner, Jesus als Lehrer:
Eine Untersuchungzum Ursprung der Evangelien-Uberlieferung, 3d ed. (Tubingen: J. C. B.
Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1988).
21. R. Horsley and J. Hanson, Bandits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements
in the Time of Jesus (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988); S. G. F. Brandon, Jesus and the
Zealots (Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1967).
18 Inculturation in the New Testament

person who spoke prophetically to his own culture. 22 Jesus was seen
primarily in two ways: as an apocalyptic prophet and as an authorita-
tive teacher. Eventually these two strands or perspectives gave to us two
major sources: the Gospel of Mark and the sayings source Q. In New
Testament scholarship the question of the primacy of these two strands
remains a constant conflict. Ever since Albert Schweitzer's Quest for the
Historical Jesus, scholars have struggled with the apparent apocalyptic
fanaticism of Jesus and his little band of followers. More recently some
scholars have insisted on the primacy of a sayings source that became the
basis for the Gospel of Thomas and its community. Later, more power-
oriented followers of Jesus added to Q apocalyptic material derived from
intertestamental Judaism. 23
The solution to this problem does indeed have important implications
for this study. Was Jesus a Cynic-like wandering philosopher-teacher or
was he a prophetic-apocalyptic visionary? Since the quest will not likely
ever lead to Jesus, we can only say that both aspects are present in the
followers, so therefore both aspects have impacted the Palestinian social
matrix as well as subsequent cultures touched by the Jesus tradition.

Jesus the Teacher

The image of Jesus as a teacher may be a modern problem, but the fact of
his teaching belongs to the earliest level of the Jesus tradition. 24 One can
see in the Gospels elements of the wandering charismatic, the Cynic-like
philosopher, the purveyor of wisdom, or the teacher of righteousness.
More critical than the type of teacher is, in this case, the content of the
teaching. For the most part the Q sayings of Jesus interpret the revealed
intent of the Torah. That is, humans, in their hardness of heart, have
created casuistic laws that obfuscate the original intent of the divine
covenant.

22. Wayne Meeks, The Prophet-King: Moses Traditions and the Johannine Chris-
tology (Leiden: Brill, 1967); Gerd Theissen, Sociology of Early Palestinian Christianity
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978).
23. Burton L. Mack, The Lost Gospel: The Book of Q and Christian Origins (San
Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993); Who Wrote the New Testament? The Making of
the Christian Myth (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1995).
24. Richard A. Edwards, A Theology ofQ: Eschatology, Prophecy, and Wisdom (Phila-
delphia: Fortress, 1976); John Kloppenborg, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient
Wisdom Collections (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987); Burton L. Mack, The Lost Gospel: The
Book of Q and Christian Origins (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993); Ronald A.
Piper, Wisdom in the Q Tradition: The Aphoristic Teaching of Jesus (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1987); Marvin Meyer, The Gospel of Thomas: The Hidden Sayings
of Jesus (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1992); Stevan Davies, The Gospel of Thomas
and Christian Wisdom (New York: Seabury, 1983); John Dominic Crossan, The Historical
Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant (San Francisco: Harper, 1991).
The Jesus Tradition 19

The social fabric called for by Jesus presupposes dyadic relationships

that cannot be set aside by contractual laws (e.g., no divorce); it presup-
poses verbal communication based on truth (e.g., no oath); it presupposes
a close relationship between all types of people (e.g., no detrimental type-
casting). Jesus taught that the commandments could be summarized by
the Great Commandment:

When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they
gathered together, and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question
to test him. "Teacher, which commandment in the law is the great-
est?" He said to him, " 'You shall love the Lord your God with all
your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is
the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: 'You
shall love your neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments
hang all the law and the prophets." (Matt. 22:34-40)

According to the early Jesus traditions, Jesus also acted on the basis
of the Sinai revelation. He understood that people were separated from
each other by laws regarding diseases. Such divisions caused what soci-
ety defines as illness. By healing people he restored them to their social
context. He sent the ten lepers whom he healed to the priests so that
they could return immediately to their villages (Luke 17:11-19; cf. Matt.
8:1-4). The paralytic was healed and restored to his companions and his
family (Mark 2:11). At the same time, Jesus broke down social divisions
by associating with persons who were unclean or socially inappropriate:

After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting
at the tax booth; and he said to him, "Follow me." And he got up,
left everything, and followed him. Then Levi gave a great banquet
for him in his house; and there was a large crowd of tax collectors
and others sitting at the table with them. The Pharisees and their
scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, "Why do you eat
and drink with tax collectors and sinners?" Jesus answered, "Those
who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick;
I have come to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance."
(Luke 5:27-32).

In addition to healing and overlooking regulations regarding clean

and unclean, Jesus built community by eating with all the people at table
fellowship (Mark. 6:30-44 and pars.). So on the one hand, Jesus oblit-
erated social divisions by healing the sick and by overlooking laws of
defilement, and on the other hand, Jesus built community by eating and
drinking without discriminating.
20 Inculturation in the New Testament

Jesus the Prophet

Although some recent studies have tried to show that Jesus was primarily
a (wisdom) teacher and that the tradition of his prophecy was added, 25
most readers assume the originality of both teacher and prophet. 26 In
an early tradition Jesus refers to himself as a prophet without honor in
his own country (Matt. 13:57; Mark 6:4; Luke 4:24; John 4:44). Given
the above description of Jesus as teacher, it would be difficult to deny
the role of Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet. As a teacher Jesus called
for a return to the Mosaic covenant. Although his teaching did not call
for a violent overthrow of Palestinian society, it certainly did, granted
its general acceptance, imply a radical alteration of his particular social
matrix. The teaching of Jesus contains a radical reversal. "Blessed are
the poor." "The first shall be last." "The one who seeks to save her or
his psyche will lose it." 27 The verbal and literary carrier of that radical
reversal is apocalypticism.28
Although the earliest Jesus tradition may use traditional apocalyptic
language sparingly, the structure of apocalypticism lies in the teaching
itself. The reversal will require a radical social change. Jesus' parables of
the reign of God speak of a quick transformation with a remarkable shift
in values, the need for total commitment, and an absolute dependence on
divine action. The radical reversal is not an incidental aspect of the Jesus
tradition. In order to advance a covenantal understanding of society it
will be necessary for society as it is to give way to a value and structure
reversal. Just as the teaching of Jesus is universally true, so the reversal is
universally true. Or put another way, the teaching of the Jesus tradition
has no potentiality unless the old age is constantly passing away. Jesus

25. On Jesus as the eschatological prophet see E. P. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism (Phila-
delphia: Fortress, 1985); The Historical Figure of Jesus (London: Penguin Press, 1993). If
Jesus were crucified because of his attack on the temple, one could hardly think of Jesus
simply as a wisdom teacher. On the other hand, Marcus Borg reports that the Jesus Seminar
"consistently voted as 'black' all sayings in which Jesus is reported to have spoken of 'the
end of the world,' a last judgment, the coming of 'the Son of Man,' or his own second
coming. For scholars, this result is news because it constitutes a thorough rejection of the
eschatological consensus that had dominated Jesus scholarship for much of this century"
("The Jesus Seminar at Work: The Making of The Five Gospels," The Fourth R 7, no. 6
[1994]: 7).
26. For the debate see M. Eugene Boring, The Continuing Voice of Jesus: Christian
Prophecy and the Gospel Tradition (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1991), 56-57.
Riesner (Jesus als Lehrer, 295) speaks of Jesus as a "prophetischen Lehrer" who spoke in
prophetic "Redegattungen."
27. The term "psyche" is a literal rendering of the Greek yx>%r\, and by it I mean
"personhood."
28. Ernst Kasemann, "The Beginnings of Christian Theology." JTC 6 (1969): 17-46;
"On the Topic of Primitive Christian Apocalyptic," JTC 6 (1969): 99-133; more recently,
Dale C. Allison, Jesus of Nazareth: Millenarian Prophet (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998).
The Jesus Tradition 21

taught a permanent eschatology.29 Without an eschatology the Jesus tra-

dition would rather quickly become the status quo, as indeed, it did and
still does.
The Jesus tradition was directed at a specific social matrix, the Pales-
tinian world during the post-Herodian period. Although it may be
customary to speak of Christianity as the universalization of a more
time-and-space-specific Judaism, that is not true. As we have seen, Ju-
daism at the time of Jesus was neither mission-oriented nor programmed
for universality. The Jesus tradition shared the same restriction. Even
later forms of the tradition recognized that Jesus did not solicit disciples
while among the Gerasenes. To the contrary he even refused the disciple-
ship offer of the demon-exorcised man (Mark 5:18-19). His rejection of
the non-Jewish woman, the Syrophoenician, still stands as a story with a
remarkable repartee, not a narrative of inclusion (Mark 7:24-30). And
however well the case may be made otherwise, it stands that Jesus sent
the twelve only to the Jews. These twelve Jesus sent out with the follow-
ing instructions: "Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town
of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel
(Matt. 10:5-6). The universal mission of Matt. 28:19 does not come
from Jesus but from a deviation group of Jews at Antioch who under-
stood, in contrast to other Jews, that the fulfillment of God's promise
would lead to a universal conversion.30

Prophetic Catenae
The Jesus tradition combined teaching and eschatology at a very early
period. Early Christian miracle lists reflect both the teaching and the
eschatology of the Jesus tradition, as well as the experiences of the early
churches. Miracle catenae occur in early Christian lists. However, such
lists have a longer history than simply the Jesus tradition. In the Hebrew
Scriptures they are found primarily in Isaiah's visions of the end time
("that day"). Best known would be Isa. 35:5-6:
Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then the lame shall leap like a deer,
and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,
and streams in the desert.
29. John Dominic Crossan, In Parables: The Challenge of the Historical Jesus (New
York: Harper & Row, 1973), 26.
30. Massimo Grilli, Comunita e Missione: le direttive di Matteo: Indagine esegetica
su Mt 9,35-11,1, Europaische Hochschulschriften, Reihe 23, Band 458 (Frankfurt: Peter
Lang, 1992).
22 Inculturation in the New Testament

According to the Q tradition, in Luke 7:22, Jesus acknowledged the

presence of the end time in his response to John the Baptist:

And he answered them, "Go and tell John what you have seen and
heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are
cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good
news brought to them."

The Q adaptation of Isaiah adds the raising of the dead and the healing
of lepers, although making the mute to speak has been dropped. Never-
theless, the combined list of Isaiah and Q corresponds closely to the
most frequently mentioned miracles in the early Christian catenae. The
most striking difference lies in the absence of demon exorcism. Though
very popular in the early Christian lists, it does not occur in either the
Isaianic texts or Gospel catenae. Apparently, the casting out of demons
marks the conflict and oppression preceding the end time, and is not a
characteristic of the end time itself.
One suspects that the lists do reflect the needs and experiences of the
faith community. That would account in part for the variations. One of
the newly published fragments of the Dead Sea Scrolls (4Q521, col. 2)
contains a catena that points to an end-time reality. One cannot tell
whether the miracles are done by a messianic figure or by God through
the community:.

He shall release the captives, make the blind see, raise up the
do[wntrodden]. (line 8)
Then he shall heal the sick, resurrect the dead, and to the meek
announce glad tidings, (line 12)31

In any case, like the early Christian community, the community of the
Dead Sea Scrolls recognizes in the raising of the dead that the end time
has already started.
If there is such a "mini-gospel" in the Jesus tradition, how does it ap-
pear in the Gospel narratives themselves? Crossan has concluded that in
the Markan and Johannine traditions there existed a catena that followed
this sequence:32

31. Taken from Robert H. Eisenman and Michael Wise, The Dead Sea Scrolls
Uncovered (Rockport, Mass.: Element, 1992), 2 0 - 2 3 .
32. Crossan, The Historical Jesus, 311.
The Jesus Tradition 23

1. Healing of the Paralytic Mark 2:1-12 John 5:1-18

2. Multiplication of Loaves
and Fishes Mark 6:33-44 John 6:1-15
3. Walking on the Sea Mark 6:45-52 John 6:16-21
4. Healing of the Blind Man Mark 8:22-26 John 9:1-7
5. Raising of the Dead Secret Mark John 11:1-57
Fragment 1:5-9

The Catena in Mark

The catena of five does not have the same meaning for the Markan redac-
tor as for John. In Mark the five are set in an ecclesiastical framework
(as are other miracles). The context for the healing of the paralytic is
the preaching of the word (mi eA,&A,ei amoic, tdv Ax5yov, 2:2), although
yet another context, a conflict story stressing forgiveness of sins, was in-
serted into the healing narrative itself (2:5b-9a). The multiplication of
the loaves and fishes was used by Mark as the basis for the early Chris-
tian community meal, or even the Eucharist (avafiXexyac, etc, xov oupavov
E\iX6yr\oev Kcci KaTeKA,acev took; aproax;, 6:41). As for walking on the
sea, the faith community context is prayer and its authority or power
(drcfjABev etc; TO opocj 7ipoo~e,uc/xo0ai, 6:46). The healing of the blind man
(8:22-26) shows the least ecclesiastical adaption of the five stories. Both
it and its twin healing narrative, the healing of the deaf mute (7:31-37)
stem directly from Isa. 35:6. The |ioytA,&A,ov of 7:32 is found only here
and in Isa. 35:6. Although there is no clear ecclesiastical framework for
the healing of the blind man, in the healing of the deaf mute the crowd
makes a strong christological statement about the power of Jesus over
chaos, KCXAXOC, 7idvxa TteTtoirpcev (7:37, an echo of the statement about God
in Gen. 1:31). Without any specific contextual adaptation the two narra-
tives based on Isa. 35:6 actually reflect the healing ministry of the church.
Since the raising of the dead occurs only in Secret Mark, we cannot assign
it a Sitz im Leben for Mark itself. In the oral tradition it may well have
been linked with the man who ran away naked (14:51-52). The excision
of the resurrection story could explain why those two dangling verses sit
in the Passion narrative without any apparent context. But cause for the
excision of the fifth narrative in the catena remains a mystery.

The Catena in John

Though used in the same order as in Mark, the catena in John serves
quite another purpose. The healing of the paralytic (5:1-18) emphasizes
the powerful presence of Jesus. Without knowing who Jesus is, without
making a statement of faith, the paralytic is made to walk. The stories of
the multiplication of the loaves and fishes and of the walking on the sea
are combined in John to shift attention from the early Christian meal,
24 Inculturation in the New Testament

and the Eucharist, to Jesus himself, who is the real bread of life (the
real presence). Walking on the sea serves to take Jesus from the Trans-
jordan (and its manna — the multiplication of the loaves and fishes) to
the Promised Land, where this real bread can be received (Passover, Josh.
5:10-12). The healing of the blind man, like the healing of the paralytic,
describes the powerful presence of Jesus. Again, the man born blind does
not know Jesus and makes no statement of faith. He is made to see by
the will of the presence itself. The story then becomes the keystone for
describing how the Johannine confession develops once one has "seen."
The last narrative in the catena, raising the dead, shows that the escha-
tological faith of the early church (Martha's confession in 11:24) lacks
the power of Jesus as the present resurrection.
The presence of these pre-Gospel miracle catenae in the Jesus tradition
indicates that central to the new Way were healings that restored persons
to their community, meals (table fellowship) that created new community,
and an eschatology that promised new life.
 3

Paul and Inculturation

Mission
Paul's approach to culture differs greatly from that of the Jesus tradition.
Although a "Hebrew of Hebrews" (Phil. 3:5), Paul, in contrast to the
earliest Jesus tradition, has a universal perspective. Given the reluctance
of Judaism to seek conversions actively, it is surprising, even incredible,
that Paul should mount a massive campaign to take his deviant form of
Judaism to the Gentile world. Because the issue of inculturation depends
so much on Paul's mission, some further reflection is necessary. Apart
from Paul himself, our first account comes from Luke in the book of
Acts. Of course Luke wishes to show that the universalism of Adam (Luke
3:38) has been recapitulated in Jesus Christ — a universalism eventually
realized when Paul reached Rome.1 While this may explain the theology
of Luke, it does not clarify the role of Paul. In order to explain why Paul
the Jew suddenly became a missionary, Luke injects into the narrative
the power and authority of the Holy Spirit — a force that directed the
church at Antioch to send out Barnabas and Paul (Acts 13:1-3). Indeed
it was the Spirit, acting as a divine obstacle, who forced Paul to respond
to a vision calling him to Greece (Acts 16:6-10). Although one cannot
doubt the critical role of the Spirit as the power of inculturation in the
double work Luke-Acts, the Spirit nevertheless appears to be a somewhat
nebulous explanation for what had to have been an incredibly complex
theological and social shift. That is, in Pauline material, the power of
inculturation may well be the "people of God" as empowered and guided
by the Spirit rather than the Spirit itself.2

1. Hans Conzelmann, The Theology of St. Luke, trans. Geoffrey Buswell (New York:
Harper, 1960).
2. 2. Luke Timothy Johnson has an excellent section on the power of the Spirit in the
New Testament. Believers claim to have the "experience of power, whether the term used
is 'authority' (exousia; see John 1:12; 1 Cor 8:9; 9:1, 4; 2 Cor 10:8; 13:10; 2 Thess 3:9),
or 'energy' (energia; see Gal 3:5; 5:6; Phil 3:20-21; Col 1:29; 1 Cor 12:6; 1 Thess 2:13;
Phlm 6; Heb 4:12), or simply 'power' (dynamis; see Rom 1:16; 15:13, 19; 1 Cor 1:18;
6:14; 2 Cor 6:7; 13:4; Gal 3:5; Eph 3:20; Col 1:29; 1 Thess 1:5; 2 Thess 1:11; 2 Tim
1:7; Heb 2:4; 2 Pet 1:16). Such power enabled believers to work 'signs and wonders' (Acts
4:30; 5:12; 14:3; Rom 15:9; 2 Cor 12:12; Heb 2:4) such as healings, prophecies, spiritual

25
26 Inculturation in the New Testament

Paul himself does not explain why he shifted from a particularist to

a universalist. Like his possible companion Luke, he explains his drive
as a divine compulsion. In 1 Cor. 9, in the midst of a debate with the
Corinthian Christians about financial support, he argues that preaching
the Gospel is not a choice he can make:

But I have made no use of any of these rights, nor am I writing this
so that they may be applied in my case. Indeed, I would rather die
than that — no one will deprive me of my ground for boasting! If
I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an
obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the
gospel! For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of
my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my
reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel
free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel.
(1 Cor. 9:15-18)

He defines the compulsion more as a commission (oiKOVOuia) than as an

energy of the Holy Spirit. As a matter of fact, Paul would appear to base
his commission on his own apostleship (1 Cor. 4:9; 9:1; 15:9; Gal. 1:1),
though he does not directly make that claim.
Although it is popular to speak of Paul as the first Christian, it may be
more accurate to understand Paul as a Jew with a distinct agenda. Under-
standing some of the earliest Jesus communities as deviations of Judaism
permits us to understand the Gentile mission as something other than a
failure of Judaism (Rom. 11:7), or a desire to win universal assent to the
Jewish God (though note 1 Thess. 1:9), or even as a great compassion for
the ignorant pagans (Acts 17:30). The drive to include Gentiles appar-
ently came primarily from the recognition that only by evangelizing the
pagans could Judaism itself become revived and complete. In Rom. 9-11
Paul puts it several ways: a divine demonstration of mercy to the Gentiles
will enable the Jews to see the meaning of God's wrath (9:14-29); if the
Gentiles are justified by faith then the Jews will forego justification by the
law (9:30-32); if the Gentiles are included it will make the Jews jealous
and therefore more open (11:11-16); Israel can only be saved when a full
number of Gentiles have "come in" (11:25). While it may not be the sin-
gle causative factor for the universalizing of Judaism, Paul's conviction
that the future of the Jewish people depended on the mission to the Gen-

utterances, and the proclamation of the good news (Rom 1:16; 1 Cor 1:18; 2:5; 2 Cor 4:7;
1 Thess 1:5; 2 Tim 1:8). The power also worked for the transformation of those receiving
it (Gal 3:5; 1 Cor 2:16; 2 Cor 3:18; Eph 4:23; Col 3:10; 1 Pet 1:22)" (Reading Romans:
A Literary and Theological Commentary [New York: Crossroad, 1997], 116-17).
Paul and Inculturation 27

tiles cannot be underestimated. It was Paul's great zeal for his own people
(Phil. 3:4-6), his particularity, that led him to a universalizing mission.
If this is true, then we could expect, indeed, that Paul's mission pro-
gram would contain elements of the contemporary Jewish culture. Or
even more likely, the mission program would contain elements of what
Jews anticipated as an end-time culture. This is surely true, as we shall
see. How did Paul intend to insert this visionary Jewish culture into the
Gentile world? Unlike the Jesus tradition, which calls for radical reversal,
Paul's method of inculturation does not entail a severe attack on pagan
culture. Instead he tends, for the most part, to suspend or relativize the
cultures of the Mediterranean basin. Several texts point specifically to
Paul's call for cultural suspension.

Thecbqixfj Passage (1 Corinthians 7:29-31)

In the midst of his discussion about marriage (1 Cor. 7:25-38), Paul
advocates an end-time suspension of marriage practices, even though, in
regard to the issue of remarriage (7:1-16) he had asked widows and wid-
owers in the Corinthian church to consider strongly another marriage.
As a part of the argument regarding first marriages he penned the highly
significant doc, |ir| passage:

I mean, brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short;
from now on, let even those who have wives be as though (dx; [if\)
they had none, and those who mourn as though (doc, |if|) they were
not mourning, and those who rejoice as though (ti)C, |if|) they were
not rejoicing, and those who buy as though (dx; u,f|) they had no
possessions, and those who deal with the world as though (tix; ^r|)
they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is
passing away.

Paul does not suggest that first, believers should withdraw from their
present culture, but that they should participate as if their society were
of relative value. So they should/could continue their married state, but
not put ultimate value in their family; they should/could honor the dead
and previous generations, but not put ultimate value in it; they should/
could celebrate marriages, but not make of marriage an ultimate value;
they should/could own and manage businesses, but not make economic
stability an ultimate value. In short, they should/could relate to their
culture, but ought not accept the values of that culture. 3

3. One could argue, as do David Balch (Let Wives Be Submissive: The Domestic Code
in 1 Peter [Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1981]) and Bruce Winter (Seek the Welfare of the
28 Inculturation in the New Testament

All Things to All People (1 Corinthians 9:19-23)

While the &>c, [ir\ passage depicts a deliberate attempt by Paul to suspend
the present culture, the passage in 1 Cor. 9:19-23, perhaps written with
less deliberateness, shows how Paul himself acts in a world of suspended
cultures:
For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave
to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as
a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as
one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I
might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became
as one outside the law (though I am not free from God's law but am
under Christ's law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the
weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become
all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it
all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.

Paul identifies freedom with the suspension of present cultural val-

ues. In the context of this particular passage he states that although he
has a right to the support of the Corinthian house churches, he does
not take it. He does not wish to be obligated to them because of any
financial outlay on his behalf. By not accepting their support, he argues,
he is free to be a slave.4 In this case slavery means accepting and liv-
ing by cultural standards without giving them any final significance. It
is a peculiar twist of meanings; normally he uses his own slavery as an
apostolic metaphor (e.g., Rom. 1:1). But here he means he can enslave
himself to cultural norms precisely because he is free of them, and, no
doubt, because cultural norms have been eschatologically suspended in
any case.
Paul does not act out of apocalyptic radicalness. In order to "infect"
the world with the Jesus tradition he is willing to submit to the norms
of society.5 So he is willing to conform to Jewish law when among Jews

City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994], that in an
honor/shame society Paul advises new Christians not to act in such a way as to bring upon
them and their faith community the stigma of dishonor. The social sense of honor allows
them then to act in a visionary way inside the community (no longer be treated as persons
of shame — slaves, women, children).
4. Graydon F. Snyder, First Corinthians: A Faith Community Commentary (Macon,
Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1992), 134. See also Henry Chadwick, "All Things to All
Men, 1 Cor. 9:22," NTS 1 (1954-55): 261-75, and a more recent summary by Barbara
Hall, "All Things to All People: A Study of 1 Corinthians 9:19-23," in The Conversation
Continues: Studies in Paul and John in Honour of J. Louis Martyn, ed. Robert T. Fortna
and Beverly R. Gaventa (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), 261-75.
5. Ernst Troeltsch argues that Paul presents a social conservatism beside a radical
personal love ethic (The Social Teaching of the Christian Churches, trans. Olive Wyon
Paul and Inculturation 29

(note Acts 21:23-24; Phil. 3:6). At the same time he is willing to live
among non-Jews as if he were not under the (Jewish) law. In his letter
to the Galatians he recounted the decisive encounter with Peter over that
very issue (Gal. 2:11-21). Clearly, he ate with non-Jews who were not
following dietary laws (1 Cor. 10:31-11:1), and stayed in homes that
were "unclean" (note Philem. 22; Acts 16:15; 18:7). Furthermore, he
submitted to Roman law by respecting the emperor and paying taxes
(Rom. 13:1-7). According to Luke he even insisted that Roman law be
utilized (Acts 16:35-40; 25:10-12). Perhaps even more striking, he was
willing to sacrifice his freedom for the weak. Assuming that the weak
of the Corinthian and Roman communities were people with rigid per-
ceptions of culture (i.e., eating meat offered to idols meant you were
worshiping those idols), Paul agreed that he would honor their inflexi-
bility and legalism by also protecting their consciences (1 Cor. 8:12-13;
Rom. 14:1-23).
Paul's method of inculturation respects any culture, but does not give
it any ultimate value. Put another way, he does not see any culture as
the historically designated carrier of the Jesus "virus"; therefore he has
no need to attack any culture. Eventually the status quo culture will be
altered by the Jesus tradition, perhaps even destroyed in part. So Paul
respected, even was proud of, contemporary Jewish culture, but gave
it no ultimate value; he respected Roman law and imperial authority,
even called on it, but gave it no ultimate value (the "rubbish" of Phil.
3:8); he respected those in the congregations who did not share his sense
of freedom and could not, because of their weak conscience, grasp the
end-time suspension of culture, but he gave their position no ultimate
meaning.

Be Not Conformed to This Age (Romans 12:1-2)

Paul spoke of the "people of God" as a community that always lived

suspended in their culture. They themselves did not present a concretized
culture, but neither did they give the present age or culture any final
value. Paul understands the election of Israel as just such a divine choice.
While the firstborn of Pharaoh and Egypt were being "sacrificed," God
chose Israel, as the first born, to be a "living sacrifice" (Swiav ^cooav,
12:1). Israel, as the firstborn, would never develop a permanent cul-
ture, but always call for the suspension of ossified cultural values. That

[New York: Macmillan, 1931]). Perhaps the conservatism is better understood as a mission
strategy (see Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive, on the Haustafeln).
30 Inculturation in the New Testament

state of parabolic suspension was the living sacrifice. Paul saw the new
community of faith as an extension of that first election:

So, by the mercies of God, I beseech you who are members of the
Christian family (aSeAxpoi), be willing in your relationship to each
other (x& acouxrucc) to place yourself on the altar as a living sacri-
fice, which is a life set apart for God and well-pleasing to him. That
would be worship in the truest sense of the word. And do not be
conformed to this age, but be transformed by a mindset that antic-
ipates renewal, so that you can try out those things that are God's
will — that which is good, that which is pleasing to God, and that
which is ultimate. (Rom. 12:1-2, my translation)

Paul asks the Roman believers to place their community (TCC oco^ccta)
on the altar as a continual sacrifice so that the world will always be
renewed by their sacrifice and by a lifestyle pleasing to God.
Historically some have misunderstood the admonition |if] 0"ua%rpaxi-
£ec0£ ("do not be conformed") as a call to set up a culture in conflict
with the present age (church versus state; two kingdoms). Paul rather is
asking the Christian family to live (as a form of worship!) in such a way
that they do not give ultimate value to their present culture, but always
make possible new forms and new ways.
Given Paul's eschatological attitude toward the present age, one would
suspect that his method of inculturation would be to suspend the re-
ceiving culture, inject the values of the Jesus tradition with its Jewish
derivation, and show how that affects the culture of the present age. We
can indeed see that very procedure in the several categories of cultural
life to which we now turn.

Family
Although Paul must have been a widower (1 Cor. 7:8; 9:5), he never
mentions his own marital experience, and, so far as we can tell, he does
not derive from that marriage any advice for the new faith community.6
Instead, he primarily depends on the Jesus tradition. In 1 Cor. 7:10-11
he utilizes the oral Jesus tradition to speak against divorce:
To the married I give this command — not I but the Lord — that the
wife should not separate from her husband (but if she does separate,
let her remain unmarried or else be reconciled to her husband), and
that the husband should not divorce his wife.

6. E. Arens, "Was St. Paul Married?" Bible Today 66 (1973): 1188-91; Joachim
Jeremias, "War Paulus Witwer?" ZNW 25 (1926): 310-12; Snyder, First Corinthians,
95-96.
Paul and Inculturation 31

Later, the Gospel of Mark (ca. 65), followed by Matthew and Luke
(ca. 85), utilized the same tradition in a slightly different form (Mark
10:11-12; Matt. 5:32; 19:9 Luke 16:18; note also Rom. 7:2-3). 7 In dis-
cussions of marriage Paul maintains the same covenantal reality found
in the Jesus tradition. In a remarkable passage, Paul says that a man's
identity is determined by a woman, and a woman's identity determined
by a man (1 Cor. 7:4). He uses the same sense of dyadic relationship to
argue that a believing husband or wife ought to remain married to a non-
believing spouse because the power of the dyadic relationship should not
be underestimated (1 Cor. 7:14). In fact, the same effect spreads to the
children. Because identity has been formed by the intimate relationship
of marriage, Paul, like the Jesus tradition, would discourage remarriage
(1 Cor. 7:8), but he also recognizes the power of the sexual drive and
its potential to be a source of community strife. So, unlike the Jesus tra-
dition (except for the later Matt. 19:10-11, which makes a remarriage
an option), Paul does concede (1 Cor. 7:6) that the demarried might do
well to remarry.
Paul stresses the importance of family and its unity, but at the same
time he undercuts the family as found in the Mediterranean social ma-
trix. In fact, he suggests that the eschatological suspension of the present
culture makes marriage a dubious choice, especially if it means being anx-
ious about the concerns of this age (1 Cor. 7:32-35). It is in this same
context that he suggests marriages may take place, but only if not taken
absolutely (1 Cor. 7:29). In 1 Cor. 7:36-38 Paul gives an example, sug-
gesting that a believing father might do well to postpone his daughter's
[arranged?] marriage so that she can make her own choices and establish
her own identity in the marriage relationship:

If anyone thinks he is dealing inappropriately with his unmarried

daughter, since she is already past the age for marrying, and there-
fore he ought to do something, let him do as he wishes. He doesn't
sin; let the couple marry. But the one who stands firm in his heart,
without any distress, having the power to do as he wishes, and has
already made up his mind not to pledge his unmarried daughter,
he does well. So the one who gives his daughter in marriage does
well, but the one who does not give in marriage does even better
(my translation).

In contrast to his society, Paul encouraged professional women like

Chloe (1 Cor. 1:11) and promoted their leadership. He urged the church

7. In large part, the Gospels were created to give believers, who no longer lived
according to the present age (culture), some guidance for living in the new, coming age.
32 Inculturation in the New Testament

in Rome to accept the leadership of Phoebe, even as it had been granted

her in Cenchreae:

I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is the pastor of the church
in Cenchreae, so that you will receive her in the Lord [faith com-
munity] as one worthy of the saints, and arrange for whatever she
needs from you just as she has made arrangements for many others,
even me. (Rom. 16:1-2, my translation)

He spoke in grateful terms about a female relative who was also an

apostle:

Greet Andronicus and Junia, members of my family and prisoners

with me, who are eminent apostles, and were believers in Christ
before I was (Rom. 16:7, my translation).

In contrast to those of other religious collegia, Paul encouraged mar-

ried women to lead worship in the house churches.8 And although he
was setting up a different order in family relationships, nevertheless, he
asked women leaders to maintain honor in the old age (e.g., keep their
heads covered, 1 Cor. 11:5). So although the Pauline vision was not real-
ized, nevertheless, as society was suspended the new culture began to
take shape:

There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free,

there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ
Jesus. (Gal. 3:28)

Community
Paul had no intention of creating communities of shame. 9 Although his
eschatological vision did suspend the culture of the present age, he did
very little to bring about the demise of the present age. When appropri-
ate (for his purposes?), he advised the new community to follow the
laws of the empire. In regard to the man living with his own step-
mother, Paul noted that even the pagan law was being broken (1 Cor.
5:1). To the surprise of many later readers, and perhaps the grief of
many citizens of totalitarian regimes, Paul insisted that the first believ-

8. Antoinette Wire, The Corinthian Women Prophets: A Reconstruction through

Paul's Rhetoric (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990).
9. Daniel L. Nighswander, Paul's Use of Shame as a Sanction in 1 Corinthians (Th.D.
diss., University of Toronto, 1994); Bruce Malina, "Honor and Shame: Pivotal Values of
the First-Century Mediterranean World," in The New Testament World: Insights from
Cultural Anthropology (Atlanta: John Knox, 1981); Jerome Neyrey, Paul, In Other Words:
A Cultural Reading of His Letters (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1990).
Paul and Inculturation 33

ers should submit to the emperor. Again, it was a question of end-time

strategy. Paul did not present a theology of the suffering righteous, but
he did insist that the first Christians not be found in conflict with the
Roman social matrix (Rom. 13:1-7). Indeed, Paul also calls for all Chris-
tians to follow the Jewish social law (Rom. 13:8-10), although, as with
the Jesus tradition, he made love of neighbor the core of the social
Decalogue.
Paul does not vary from this social perspective. Whatever else one
may say about his radical end-time vision, it must be said that he does
not call for any open conflict with the status quo. This is most obvi-
ous when one examines specific issues. For example, even though many
of Paul's converts must have been slaves or freed, Paul never suggests
that slavery should be abolished. In fact, he barely suggests that a slave
should become free. In the famous, or infamous, slavery passage of 1 Cor.
7:17-24, Paul writes that seeking freedom does not really serve any re-
demptive purpose. A slave ought not turn down the opportunity to be
free (7:21), but achievement of freedom does not affect one's relation-
ship to God or to the faith community. The slavery issue stands at the
center of Paul's social-theological program. No social change commends
a person to God. Nationality (Jew or Greek) does not make a difference;
gender (male or female) does not make a difference; marriage does not
make a difference; wealth does not make a difference; class (slave or mas-
ter) does not make a difference. Nothing in the passing old age makes
a difference. So, although Paul seems to have no social program, and he
does not encourage social revolution, he holds that stance because the
present age has no effective value. The present age is not worth liber-
ating. Thus the letter to Philemon is a classic Pauline document. 10 Paul
speaks of the slave Onesimus as his brother, and commends Onesimus as
a brother to the slave master, Philemon. Clearly, Paul expects Philemon
to forego any legal right he may have to punish the absent Onesimus.
But he never suggests that the brother Philemon should free his brother
Onesimus. And at no point does Paul suggest ethical lethargy because
the end is at hand. What we see in the slavery issue is the result of the
Pauline worldview.
The same is true of sexual equality. Although in the faith community
Paul includes women on an equal basis, he does not countenance an
apparent public break with cultural norms. In 1 Cor. 11 he insists that
women in leadership roles ought not violate public dress codes (nor men
either, for that matter; 11:4, 14). It is not that the Corinthians have been

10. Norman Petersen, Rediscovering Paul: Philemon and the Sociology of Paul's
Narrative World (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985).
34 Inculturation in the New Testament

particularly at fault in public matters; such decorum is required in all the

churches of God (11:16). If the admonition for women to keep silent is
genuine (1 Cor. 14:33-36), and it probably is not, 11 the issue is the same:
some women are disrupting the public decorum of one of the Corinthian
house churches. Paul does not want the first faith community to be one
of dishonor. His concern for decorum goes so far as even to encourage
the Holy Spirit to "remain silent in the church" (see 14:27, 34) So one
of the house churches in Corinth, presumably the "Christ" house church
(see 1 Cor. 1:12), is asked to cut back on ecstatic outbursts lest outsiders
be repulsed by what they have seen and heard (1 Cor. 14:23). And rather
than allow everyone, as apparently guided by the Spirit, to speak as they
wish, Paul insists that the house church limit contributions to just two
or three in each category of worship. Otherwise confusion will prevail
(1 Cor. 14:26-33).
The church was to attract persons of all types and backgrounds. In-
deed, most of the new Christians had come from lower classes of society
(1 Cor. 1:26), even from a criminal element (1 Cor. 6:9-11). But the
church was not to be seen by the public as a haven, a support system,
for unsavory citizens. So Paul urges the Corinthians to cast from their
midst such unrepentant persons.
Not every early Christian could handle Paul's perspective. He assumed
that the first believers would participate in public life without ghettoizing
the new community. For example, he assumed that new Christians would
eat in public places with their former friends. But some converts could not
handle a relativity that denied the value of meat offered to nonexistent
idols, yet at the same time allowed a brother or sister to eat meals in
which the meat had been dedicated to a pagan god. Eventually, Paul
gave up and asked that new Christians not risk forming their primary
identity with nonbelievers (1 Cor. 10:21). Like the Jesus tradition, he
too recognized that community was formed through table fellowship.
Besides criticizing some divisive meals (1 Cor. 11:17-22; Rom. 14:1-4),
he pulled from the oral Jesus tradition the account of the Last Supper and
its powerful potential for building a loving and perceptive community
(1 Cor. 11:23-34). The new age depended on the dissolution of food
distinctions, of clean and unclean, so that the new community could be
formed by table fellowship (Rom. 14:1-23). Little wonder that Paul's
doctrine of justification by faith was hammered out in the midst of a real
conflict over table fellowship (Gal. 2:11-21).

11. Snyder, First Corinthians, 184-86; Gordon Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 669-710.
Paul and Inculturation 35

Authority
As indicated above, Paul did not anticipate or direct a revolution against
the authority and power of the Roman Empire. In his one major dis-
cussion of the issue, he advocated submission to the authority of the
emperor (Rom. 13:1-7). As in other cultural values, Paul does not chal-
lenge the authority of the political system. But there can be little doubt
that Paul included the state among those things passing away. In 1 Cor.
2:8 he says that none of the rulers of this world (ooSeic; tcov dp%6vxcov
xov ctiSyvocJ knew what they were doing when they crucified the Lord of
glory. Because they were anchored in the old age, the truth of history was
hidden from them, a truth that had been foreordained from the begin-
ning. Basically, the rulers of this age cannot fathom the [ix>axr\piov of God
(1 Cor. 2:7). In biblical apocalyptic terms, the rulers of this world — the
state — cannot possibly understand the |iucrcf|piov, because their author-
ity is based on the wisdom of this age rather than on the oocpia Geov. The
Greek term UA)at;f|piov translates the Hebrew n , found in Jewish apoca-
lyptic as a term to describe the course of history, a course hidden from
rulers like Nebuchadnezzar (Dan. 2:28-29). The essence of the apoca-
lyptic sense of history lies in the difference between the old age, ruled
by human self-concern, and the new age, ruled by the will of God. To
the old age the ways of the new age seem like foolishness, a mystery,
which only the apocalyptic visionary can discern. However much we are
to obey the present state, still the state does not know the u.\)oxr|piov, or
why the Lord of glory was crucified. Just as a parent takes on dishonor
by falsely punishing a child, so the rulers of this world accrued dishonor
by crucifying the Lord of glory. Indeed, according to Paul, by their igno-
rance they created their own end-time cultural suspension. They showed
themselves to be unaware of the o"0(pia Geov.
In the one legal case mentioned in the primary Pauline letters, Paul
chastises the first Christians for utilizing the court system of the old age.
One cannot tell what the case was, but one should surmise that it was
not of great significance (Kprrrpicov eA.a%io"Ta>v, 1 Cor. 6:2). n Regardless
of the substance of the case, the courts of the Roman Empire generally
served a political purpose rather than the administration of justice or
reconciliation. Paul expressed shock that the first Christians would use a
system that could not possibly advance the reign of God. It is not quite
clear what he proposed instead. One supposes that he urged the Corin-
thian Christians to form their own reconciliation committee, much like
that described in Matt. 18:16-17. The point is important. Do we find
here the beginning of a Christian culture, a system that will take on a

12. Winter, Seek the Welfare, 106-21.

36 Inculturation in the New Testament

more concrete form in the Gospel of Matthew? Or do we have Paul the

Jew asking the first believers to utilize an already existent Jewish (reli-
gious) court or to develop one like it? 13 As is so often the case, has conflict
in the community caused the leader to develop regulations and mecha-
nisms that parallel the very system being criticized? On the other hand,
the early church did not continue the jury of peers, but developed man-
uals and codes, like the Didache or the Apostolic Constitutions, which
must have been used by administrators to adjudicate in difficult issues.14

Calendar and Celebrations

It is true that the Jewish culture did not make an impact on the Greco-
Roman world to the same extent as that of the later Christian culture,
but there is at least one area of Western culture that must be considered
Jewish in origin. Paul's calendar is Jewish. While he may not always
celebrate the Jewish feast days, he does calculate according to the Jewish
system. So in 1 Cor. 16:2 he would have the collection set aside Kara |a,(av
aaPPatou ("on the first day of the week"), the day that later Christians
would have met for worship (note Acts 20:7). 15 Although the first day
of the week is not a Jewish day of celebration, the Christian day is based
on the Jewish timekeeping system.
Paul's conflict with the Galatian Christians has resisted a satisfactory
explanation, but a simple, apparent solution would be to suppose that
a group of Jewish Christians has pressured the Gentile Christians to be-
come, at least in part, Jewish. A key issue would have been the acceptance
of the Jewish mark of belonging — circumcision (Gal. 5:2-12). Stay-
ing with the simple approach, it would also appear that some Galatian
Christians had been persuaded by the Jewish Christians (3:1-5). At the
same time, some Galatians must have rejected the demands of the Jewish
Christians and decided to abandon the whole enterprise. These would be
the Gentiles mentioned in 4:8-11. Paul marvels that they could return to
their prior life, enslaved by the solar 7tTC0%a oxoi%eTa, divine powers hon-
ored by the Greco-Roman world, or observing lunar f||iepac,... l-ifjvac; Kori
Katpo'uc, Kat eviauxovc,. The immediate implication is that some Galatians
might be using a Roman religious calendar and some a Jewish religious
calendar. Paul is caught between the two with no new Christian calendar
to suggest.

13. Fee, Corinthians, 230-34; Winter, Seek the Welfare.

14. EEC, s.v. "Canon Law."
15. Fee, Corinthians, 813-14; W. Rordorf, Sunday, The History of the Day of Rest
and Worship in the Earliest Centuries of the Christian Church (Philadelphia: Westminster,
1968); S. Bacchiocchi, From Sabbath to Sunday, A Historical Investigation of the Rise
of Sunday Observance in Early Christianity (Rome: Pontifical Gregorian University Press,
1977).
Paul and Inculturation 37

In another complex passage, a secondary Pauline text, the Christian

author advises the readers not to be upset about criticisms regarding
eoprfjc; r\ veo|ir)viac, r\ oaPP&xcov (Col. 2:16). The believers at Colossae
are criticized either for not holding to the Jewish calendar or for holding
to it; there is no hint here of a Christian pagan calendar. One would
conclude that the Gentile Christians of Colossae had adopted a Jewish
timekeeping system, yet did not keep the accompanying Jewish festivals.
The author was defending their freedom to do that. If so, we have an ex-
ample of what eventually occurred. The Christian Roman world adopted
a calendar based on the Jewish Sabbath system, but did not celebrate
Jewish festivals. Rather, as we shall see, later Christians inserted into the
Jewish system various Roman festivals. In this one particular case, then,
we do not see a process of inculturating the Roman timekeeping system,
but rather an acculturation or adaptation, through the first Christians,
of the Jewish one.

Nature
Considering the emphasis on creation and nature in the Hebrew Scrip-
tures and contemporary Judaism, we are surprised to find, in both the
Jesus and Pauline traditions, so few cultural values based on nature. In
the Jesus tradition and in Paul there are natural parables and analogies,
especially those dealing with fields and vineyards. In the Jesus tradition
there are no cultural practices or values based on nature. In genuine Paul
there is very little. The most obvious references are to sexual matters.
Paul never argues that marriage or family matters are natural, but he
does argue, against some Greek philosophers, that homosexuality is not
natural, or, more accurately, that homosexuals have given up qyuoncoc, re-
lationships (Rom. 1:26-27). Presumably, Paul says the same thing when
he speaks of male and female hairstyles in 1 Cor. 11:14-15. Even though
there is very little about nature in the letters of Paul, still, one sees the
same apocalyptic suspension of nature as of the rest of culture. In one
significant passage KTIOIC; is held in bondage by the old age and longs for
the new age of freedom. Likewise, humanity, or human nature, shares the
corruptibility of the old age and is wasting away, to make way for a new
humanity (2 Cor. 4:16). It is in this context that we can best understand
Paul's understanding of the resurrection:

Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will
all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last
trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised
imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable body
must put on imperishability, and this mortal body must put on
38 Inculturation in the New Testament

immortality. When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and

this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written
will be fulfilled: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." (1 Cor.
15:51-54)

Summary
Using primarily an apocalyptic worldview and often its language, Paul
suspends the Greco-Roman culture that has formed the persons he ad-
dresses. He does not pretend to alter any social matrix in which he finds
himself, and he certainly does not advocate an attack on either Jewish
or Roman social institutions. But he does radically devalue culture in its
most basic structures: sex, marriage, and family; economics and commu-
nity; authority; calendar and celebrations; and even the natural order of
things. In the place of that suspended culture Paul offers a community
based on covenant relationships — relationships of equality, freedom,
permanence, and love. At heart that new community was based on Jew-
ish values, though, with the possible exception of a timekeeping system,
not in the form of contemporary Judaism. To the contrary, the new form
often was based on the oral Jesus tradition.
The problem for Paul was how to commend to new Christians a
lifestyle that was neither Jewish nor Greco-Roman, yet could survive
in a suspended form.
 Chapter 4

The Gospel of John

and Deculturization

The Fourth Gospel's author developed a program of inculturation that

stands in stark contrast to that of Paul. Indeed, John's vision is one of
the more incredible achievements in Christian history. The author of the
Gospel of John [henceforth: John] nearly reversed the tradition of Jesus
and the gospel of Paul. Instead of relativizing the old age and seeking a
new, John presents to the old age a Jesus who is both compelling, as a
reality, yet unhampered by cultural accessories. The Jesus of the Gospel of
John is a true "virus," capable of entering any culture without destroying
it. The Fourth Gospel has been called a maverick because it does not fit
the Gospel pattern and because it will not yield to scholarly analysis. It
remains to this day a mystery. Its mysteriousness, however, is the key to
its author's intent.

Provenance
The evidence offered for location of writing comes from external sources.
The arguments for one locale over against another need not detain us
here. Most of us have accepted the statements found in Eusebius, quoted
from Papias, regarding a John the presbyter, who was the last living eye-
witness. John the presbyter lived in Ephesus and therefore would have
been the Beloved Disciple, a younger man during the ministry of Jesus.
Except for the fact that this notice appears in Eusebius, there is no rea-
son to suppose that Ephesus was actually the provenance of the Fourth
Gospel. Over the years some have suggested Alexandria, because of the
Hellenistic style of argument, while others insist on a location where
synagogue and church could have been involved in severe conflict (John
9:22, 34). ] Actually, internal evidence is practically nonexistent. We have
the possible conflict with the synagogue. John's friendly treatment of

1. Meeks, The Prophet-King; David Rensberger, Johannine Faith and Liberating

Community (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988).

39
40 Inculturation in the New Testament

the Samaritans, who believed when others did not (4:39), might sug-
gest a north Palestinian origin.2 I have suggested that the conflict of the
Beloved Disciple with Peter (13:8, 16, 23-24; 18:10-11,15-16; 20:4, 8;
21:15-19) indicates the author came from some locale other than Rome
and those communities that depended on an apostolic eyewitness (i.e.,
Peter).3 Nevertheless, we cannot establish an origin for the Gospel based
on these meager hints. Although I do believe the argument of the Gospel
does eliminate Rome, nothing else can be determined. John deliberately
eliminated any internal evidence that could link his Gospel to any locale.
John's Jesus simply does not carry with him the cultural characteristics
of any city or region. Such severe geographical desocialization marks
the beginning point of John's attempt to present a universally acceptable
Jesus.4

Author
Unlike the redactors of the Synoptic Gospels, the final redactor of the
Fourth Gospel identifies his source (21:20-24). The Beloved Disciple was
the first to recognize Jesus and to respond to his invitation to "come and
see" (1:37-39). Although the "first disciple" is never identified, we are
informed that the second was Andrew, who then sought out Peter — the
same Peter, of course, who was the first disciple in the Synoptic Gospels
(1:40-42; Mark 1:16-20). The Beloved Disciple is never identified. Some
traditions make him the apostle John. The final redactor, however, makes
it clear that the unknown disciple is not identical with one of the sons of
Zebedee (21:2). Failing to find the author among the Twelve, many lean
toward John the presbyter of Ephesus as the Beloved Disciple. Lacking
any real reason to place the Fourth Gospel in Ephesus, other than the
quote from Papias, others have sought a location closer to Jerusalem, a
place where there is a strong conflict between church and synagogue.
The term "Beloved Disciple" likely refers to a follower of Jesus who
was indeed the source for some elements of the Fourth Gospel, but the
term signifies more a quality of relationship than a specific person. The
quality of relationship with Jesus is love (17:26). This disciple is the one
Jesus loves (6v Try&Tia 6 Inoouc,, 13:23); that is, he 5 receives the love

2. Meeks, The Prophet-King.

3. Graydon F. Snyder, "John 3:16 and the Anti-Petrinism of the Johannine Tradition,"
BR 16 (1971): 5-15.
4. We must not be carried away, however. Based on internal evidence it would not be
easy to establish the provenance of any Gospel. Matthew might well reflect Antioch, but
the Jesus of Mark hardly appears to be a Roman, and Luke's Jesus is nearly as enigmatic
v
as John's.
5. We use the masculine pronoun to refer to the name John. On the other hand, if
The Gospel of John and Deculturization 41

of Jesus which is the love of the Father. The Beloved Disciple stands
with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus as persons loved by Jesus. The beloved
Martha admittedly does not figure positively in the Johannine narrative.
She, rather than Mary, first meets Jesus as he comes to Bethany for the
resurrection of Lazarus. She receives the critical statement about recon-
structed life that does not die (11:25-26), but her response reflects the
eschatology of the early church rather than the incarnational faith of the
Gospel of John. We know nothing more about Lazarus except that he, as
a beloved person, received new life.6 Mary, on the other hand, receives
the love of Jesus and returns it. In an intimate moment she washes the feet
of Jesus with ointment and then dries his feet with her hair (12:3), while
Peter refuses to engage in the footwashing (13:8). If Mary Magdalene is
the same as Mary of Bethany,7 again the redactor strongly stresses the
love connection between Jesus and this woman, who not only stood with
the Beloved Disciple at the foot of the cross (19:25), but also first saw
the empty tomb (20:2) and first spoke with the resurrected Lord (20:11-
18).8 In other words, Mary plays a role in the Gospel no less than that
of the Beloved Disciple. The Beloved Disciple and beloved Mary stand,
then, as the two persons most clearly impacted by the incarnation. 9 They
are the first to be inculturated by the desocialized Jesus.

Eschatology
The Fourth Gospel is nearly devoid of eschatological statements. The
primary references to a future time are the several statements about the
coming "hour" (2:4; 4:21-23; 5:25-28; 7:30; 8:20; 12:23, 27; 13:1;
16:2; 16:25; 17:1). Actually, these are not eschatological statements in
the traditional sense of the word. They point to a time of revelation, or,
better perhaps, a time of public revelation. That time is the crucifixion

there is any part of the New Testament written by a female disciple, it would be the Fourth
Gospel.
6. As the only man mentioned as loved by Jesus, Lazarus has been identified as the
Beloved Disciple. See Floyd Filson, "Who Was the Beloved Disciple?" JBL 68 (1949):
83-88; Oscar Cullmann, The Johannine Circle, trans. John Bowden (London: SCM, 1976).
7. Sandra M. Schneiders, "Women in the Fourth Gospel and the Role of Women in
the Contemporary Church," Biblical Theology Bulletin 12 (1982): 35-45.
8. In the Gospel of John the resurrection makes Jesus available to all by freeing Jesus
from Jewish culture. When Mary wishes to touch Jesus, she is asked not to draw him back
into her present and his former milieu.
9. Jesus passes on his love to the Beloved Disciple, and the Beloved Disciple loves Jesus
(his head in the bosom of Jesus, 13:23, 25). The author stresses Mary's love for Jesus; it
may be that his love for her has been suppressed (Elisabeth Schiissler Fiorenza, In Memory
of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins [New York: Crossroad,
1983], xiii-xiv). On the other hand, Sjef van Tilborg believes that Jesus' love for Mary has
been stated clearly (Imaginative Love in John [Leiden: Brill, 1993]).
42 Inculturation in the New Testament

and death of Jesus. As Jesus expires he exclaims, leieXeoiai; the redac-

tor adds that Jesus, bowing his head, 7icxpe5coKev TO Ttvefyia (19:30). The
coming hour in John refers, then, to the completion of the revelation and
the passing on of the Spirit. It is the moment that God's love is known on
the cross (15:12-14). For the Fourth Gospel the cross completes the reve-
lation of divine reality (16:21) and passing on the Spirit (or 7tap&KA/rytoc,).
Jesus is the deculturized revelation; the Spirit is the universal inculturator.
There can hardly be any debate about John's lack of eschatology. With
a remarkable analogy, the Jesus of John says that the beginning of a
process and its end are the same thing:
Do you not say, "Four months more, then comes the harvest"? But
I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for
harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering
fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together.
For here the saying holds true, "One sows and another reaps."
(John 4:35-37)
Without an apocalyptic worldview there is no attempt in John to suspend
the present age, or contemporary culture. But the divine revelation is
nearly devoid of cultural attachments. John's Jesus makes it clear that he
is not of this world, i.e., has no cultural attachments (17:14); nor does he
wish his disciples to be of this world (17:16), though he recognizes that
they cannot be completely devoid of cultural involvement (17:15). Jesus
prays only that they not be trapped by this dialectical existence: "I am
not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect
them from the evil one" (17:15). In fact, Jesus cannot ask for them to be
taken out of the world — they are the agents of inculturation:
"Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent
me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their
sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth."
(John 17:17-19).

The Birth Narrative

Even though John shows little or no reliance on Matthew and Luke, we
would assume that he knew a tradition of the birth narrative. If he did,
and some texts (6:42; 7:27) might indicate he did not, why was the virgin
birth not a keystone in his program to deculturize Jesus? Matthew and
Luke had already stated that Jesus was not the product of Israel. How-
ever, their model was based on the Jewish apocalyptic model of an end to
the old and a new beginning (end time, death and resurrection; transfig-
uration, baptism and birth). Like Paul, they had adapted the apocalyptic
The Gospel of John and Deculturization 43

model to signify the death and resurrection of Jesus as the end of the
old age and the beginning of the new. Since John has no such model,
the death of Jesus signifies the revelation of God's love and the passing
on of the Spirit as the effective agent of universal inculturation. In John
the lack of an apocalyptic model alters all of the key change moments.
In the Synoptics another apocalyptic moment occurs when John baptizes
Jesus. The old — ties to the family and race origin — is buried; Jesus
comes out of the water (of death, not purification) as the Son of God
(Mark 1:11), an agent of the new age (Mark 1:8, 14-15). Jesus does not
die to family and race in the Gospel of John. Granted that the words of
Mark 10 are used in John's baptismal narrative, there is no indication that
Jesus ever entered the water and died to the old age (1:29-34). Instead,
like the cross, the baptismal narrative has become a moment of public
manifestation to the Jews {aXX i'va (pavepcoGfj Tip 'Iapaf|A,, 1:31). The
identification of Jesus with the Lamb of God points to the hour when
Jesus will reveal God's love to all people.
Although the virgin birth tradition could, and likely did, serve, in an
apocalyptic model, to separate Jesus from his primary culture, the author
of the Fourth Gospel again did not utilize the apocalyptic worldview.
There is no birth narrative. Jesus did not die to his culture — he was never
born into it. The prologue makes it clear that the A,6yog was effective from
the beginning, that it was made known through various means, especially
to Israel (1:11), but that the Word had never been incorporated, even in
Israel (1:11). The Word never had a cultural home! So the coming of
Jesus is the Word finally becoming cultural (crape;, 1:14). The "birth" is
not described in terms of an apocalyptic break with history, as in the
Synoptics, but as the decisive cultural appearance-inculturation of the
divine reality.
The redactor makes it clear that odpl; cannot be a means of achieving
reality. Persons born of atjia (race), or eK 0eA,fiu.aa;o<; capKoq (culture), or
&K QeKr\[ia%oc, dvSpoq (human self-interest), cannot also be born of God,
that is, live according to divine reality (1:13). While this statement very
likely was added by the redactor to the prologue, it expresses well the
evangelist's intent for the Fourth Gospel. The true child of God must be
born dvcoGev (again from above, a primary word for inculturation); the

10. The author of the Fourth Gospel likely knew Mark, but not the other Gospels.
However, Mark does not likely go back to the Signs Source. See Urban C. von Wahlde,
The Earliest Version of John's Gospel: Recovering the Gospel of Signs (Wilmington, Del.:
Michael Glazier, 1989); Robert T. Fortna, The Gospel of Signs: A Reconstruction of the
Narrative Source Underlying the Fourth Gospel (London: Cambridge University Press,
1970).
44 Inculturation in the New Testament

true child eschews cultural determinism and therefore has no need to go

back into the womb (3:3-4).

The Signs Source

The basis for John 1-12 derives from what Johannine scholars have called
the Signs Source (from crpeTov, hence Semeia-Quelle, or SQ). SQ has
some similarities with the Synoptics, especially Mark, but not enough to
assign any formal connection with them. A primary difference has led to
the designation SQ: the use of orpetov to signify what in the Synoptics
appear as acts of power. There are seven such signs, all of which have
taken on a meaning other than the miraculous power itself: (1) changing
water into wine (2:1-11); (2) healing of the official's son (4:46-54);
(3) healing of the paralytic (5:1-9); (4) feeding the five thousand (6:1-
14); (5) walking on the water (6:15-21); (6) healing of the man born
blind (9:1-41); (7) the raising of Lazarus (11:1-44). The first two are
numbered as signs one and two (2:11; 4:54). One might well assume
that there were other numbered signs or that the remaining five were
once numbered, but, in any case, the numbers and the awkward seams,
or aporias, point certainly to a pre-Johannine source.

Changing Water into Wine

Water in the Fourth Gospel invariably stands for what in an apocalyptic
language would be the old age. John baptizes in water while Jesus bap-
tizes in the Spirit. In the conversation with Nicodemus John's Jesus says
that the primary birth is of water while the second birth is of the Spirit
(3:5). And with the woman at the well (4:1-26) Judaism is characterized
by the rather stationary well water, while what Jesus brings is a living,
vibrant water that does not rely on space or time (another agent of in-
culturation). At the wedding of Cana Jesus took an object of culture —
specifically Judaism — the water, and turned it into Spirit, which was
free of cultural norms. The sign marks the purpose of the incarnation,
though that purpose is not realized until the crucifixion (the hour is not
yet). The narrative ends with a remarkable realization. The caterer, who
either did not know Judaism or did not know of the change, tasted the
wine and recognized its infinite value (2:9-10). The Spirit satisfied.

Healing of the Official's Son

This story serves to make it known that life does not depend on pro-
phetic signs or on wonders. The official believes the word of Jesus and
his son lived — lived at the hour Jesus said the word. The reason for the
The Gospel of John and Deculturization 45

formation of the SQ becomes clear: real life depends on appropriation

of the Xoyoc, become flesh.

Healing of the Paralytic

Following the second sign, SQ shifts to the catena of miracles that we
have already noted. However, the miracles now serve to explicate the
meaning of real life rather than to create the new community. The heal-
ing of the paralytic (5:1-9) emphasizes the powerful presence of Jesus.
Without knowing who Jesus is, that is, without any cultural network,
and without making a statement of faith, the paralytic is made to walk.

Feeding of the Five Thousand

In the Synoptics the multiplication of the loaves and fishes serves to es-
tablish the early Eucharist, which consisted of bread, fish, and wine. Jesus
breaks the bread and gives thanks; the recipients sit in orderly groups;
they save the remainder for distribution to the needy, as did the earli-
est church. 11 In John a strange thing occurs with this narrative (6:1-14).
It remains as the source of the early Christian Eucharist (there is no
Passover meal or Last Supper), but the stories of the multiplication of
the loaves and fishes and the walking on the water are combined in John
to shift attention from the early Christian meal, and the Eucharist, to
Jesus himself, who is the real bread of life (the real presence).12

Walking on the Water

Walking on the water serves to take Jesus from the Transjordan (and
its manna [the multiplication of the loaves and fishes]) to the Promised
Land, where this real bread can received (Passover, Josh. 5:10-12). In
this way the early Christian Eucharist is lumped with Judaism as religion
that has been culturized. It too, like the manna, must be left behind in
order to make way for the real Passover, Jesus the bread. This narrative is
our first hint that the author considers early Christian faith and practices
a hindrance to passing on the universal presence of Jesus. The same thing
will occur in the dialogue with Martha (11:17-27).

The Healing of the Man Born Blind

The healing of the man born blind (9:1-41), like the healing of the par-
alytic, describes the powerful presence of Jesus. 13 Again, the man born
blind does not know Jesus, has no cultural interchange, and makes no

11. Bo Reicke, Diakonie, Festfreude, und Zelos (Uppsala: Lundequistska, 1951).

12. Peder Borgen, Bread From Heaven: An Exegetical Study of the Concept of Manna
in the Gospel of John and the Writings of Philo (Leiden: Brill, 1965).
13. Judith M. Lieu, "Blindness in the Johannine Tradition," NTS 34 (1988): 83-95.
46 Inculturation in the New Testament

statement of faith. He is made to see by the will of the presence itself,

and by his own desire to see. The story then becomes the keystone for de-
scribing how inculturation occurs once one has "seen." At first the person
impacted by the presence recognizes the actuality and desirability of the
change: "Then I went and washed and received my sight"; "Though I was
blind, now I see." In the Gospel of John seeing is perception and, rather
automatically, if one can see, appropriation of the divine reality. Jesus
invites people to "come and see" (1:39, cf. 1:46; 4:29) the reality he em-
bodies. Certain that he now can see, the man born blind refuses to accept
theological arguments and institutional threats that might negate what
has happened. As a result he becomes disassociated from his cultural
past (the famous aTtoouvdyooyoc, of 9:22; cf. 9:34). Johannine Christian-
ity does not make a new culture available; Jesus does not go and make
disciples. The man born blind swims in a faith limbo. Jesus later comes
to him and asks him if he believes in the Son of Man, 14 a strictly Jewish
title. 15 Only the presence of Jesus can give new significance to a prior
cultural symbol.16 Inculturation or infusion has occurred.

The Raising of Lazarus

The last sign narrative, also the last in the catena, the raising of the dead,
shows that resurrection in the Fourth Gospel refers to a person who
has lasting congruity based on divine reality. Death then does not exist
(11:25-26), and an end-time resurrection has no place here. It is faith
in Jesus (perception and assimilation) that makes this "resurrection and
life" possible.17 The more apocalyptic faith of the early church (Martha's
confession in 11:24) lacks the power to create a present resurrection.
As we will see, six of these seven signs comprise the vast majority of
early Christian artistic references to the New Testament,18 and are the
most frequently mentioned stories in the miracle catenae.

Religious Practices and Faith Statements

Probably the most remarkable thing about the Fourth Gospel is the in-
credible variety of mutually exclusive interpretations that it generates. It
is the source of high Christology and high liturgical formulations. At the

14. With Sinaiticus and Vaticanus.

15. Delbert Royce Burkett, The Son of Man in the Gospel of John (Sheffield: JSOT
Press, 1991).
16. Paul Diel, Symbolism in the Gospel of John (San Francisco: Harper &C Row, 1988).
17. It is interesting that the Jews use Jesus' own call to discipleship, "come and see,"
as an invitation to join with death rather than life (11:34). John's Jesus is so frustrated by
this destructive invitation that he weeps (11:35).
18. The healing of the official's son has never been identified as a pictorial
representation.
The Gospel of John and Deculturization 47

same time, it has been used as the source of religionless Christianity. The
argument here is that the author of the Fourth Gospel did indeed intend
to present a Jesus not bound by any particular religion, but available to
inculturate any social system. We have already seen that John used the
feeding of the five thousand and the walking on the water as a means of
relegating the early Christian Eucharist to a self-serving meal (6:26) — a
meal that did not actually appropriate the divine reality offered by Jesus.
Likewise, when Jesus proclaims himself to be the resurrection and the life,
we must understand that John has rejected the more end-time-oriented
faith statement made by Martha. 19

The Temple
Following the wedding at Cana, — the proleptic changing of Judaism
into a religion of the Spirit—Jesus immediately attacks the temple. In the
Synoptics Jesus cleanses the temple as the first act of the Passion narrative.
Why did John make the temple cleansing the first public act of Jesus'
ministry?20 Several reasons have been suggested. Narrative displacement
would be possible, since other displacements are also obvious (such as
the incongruity of chapter 5). But the cleansing of the temple seems too
important to be mislaid. The redactor must have intended to place it in
the second chapter.
The author apparently wants us to understand that the Passion nar-
rative actually began when the ministry of Jesus began. Salvation or
wholeness does not depend on the death and resurrection of Jesus, but
on his presence. Public presence, therefore, begins with the ministry. For
the reader to understand this clearly, the cleansing of the temple must
come first. This process of extending the elements of the Synoptic Pas-
sion narrative forward into the ministry has been called "telescoping the
Passion story." This explanation has much to commend it. It certainly
corresponds to the theological position of the Fourth Gospel. Yet there
is more. The story follows the wedding at Cana, where, as we have seen,
Jesus changes the "Jewish" water into the wine of the Spirit. The cleans-
ing of the temple follows that introduction. The cleansing itself is not

19. Alan R. Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983); Paul D. Duke, Irony in the Fourth Gospel (Atlanta: John
Knox, 1985). I assume that every dialogue in the Gospel of John portrays Jesus as the person
who represents the author's position, while the other person always represents either an
incorrect position or a position so improbable that the reader must side with Jesus.
20. The suggestion that John changed the Synoptics contains an unproven assumption
that could easily be mistaken. Lacking any easy solution, we assume that the readers knew
a Jesus tradition in addition to the SQ, so any difference between John and the Synoptics
could be seen as a change, even though John may be more faithful to an original tradition
than what we find in the Synoptics.
48 Inculturation in the New Testament

so critical as the interpretation given it. After a rather hostile cleansing

narrative (2:15 — the whip is mentioned only in John), the Jews ask
for a arpetov (2:18). In response to their request Jesus observes that if
the temple were destroyed he could raise it up in three days (ev tpioiv
fiuipccic; eyepco amov, 2:19). The readers knew indeed that the Jerusalem
temple had been destroyed and, furthermore, that Jesus had, at the resur-
rection, given to them the Spirit in place of the temple. The cleansing of
the temple may well be the beginning of the "passion-embodiment" nar-
rative, but it also marks the separation from the temple. It is a narrative
of deculturization.
Jesus confirms the deculturation in several narratives. In the dialogue
with Nicodemus Jesus says that the one who would enter the reign of
God must be born of the water and of the Spirit (3:5); that is to say,
one must belong to a social matrix (water), but also live according to the
divine reality (the Spirit). In the next parallel sentence water is replaced
with flesh so that the reader will correctly interpret water as historical
existence (3:6).
In the dialogue with the Samaritan woman Jesus rejects the water of
the Jewish fathers as lacking in ultimate satisfaction (4:13), while the
water he has to offer (living water = the Spirit) will never need to be re-
plenished (4:14). The water of Jacob's well may be identified with Jewish
religion. What Jesus has to offer does not relate to such spaces as Jacob's
well, Jerusalem, or Samaria (4:21). In fact, spaces have been eliminated
in favor of a universal reality.21 God is Spirit:
"But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers
will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such
as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him
must worship in spirit and truth." (John 4:23-24)
Such statements are not anti-Judaic, but a powerful narrative designed to
develop a deculturized Christ.22 Far from anti-Judaic, Jesus affirms that
"salvation is of the Jews"; that is, the water is essential and, more specif-
ically, without Jewish water the Christian Spirit would not be possible.
Perception of the Spirit depends on the Jewish faith in a living God, not
the syncretism of the Samaritans (4:17-18) or the polytheism of the Ro-
mans. At the feast of chapter 7 Jesus goes up to the temple and makes

21. Tod D. Swanson, "To Prepare a Place: Johannine Christianity and the Collapse of
Ethnic Territory," JAAR 62 (1994): 241-63.
22. See George MacRae, "Theology and Irony in the Fourth Gospel," in The Word in
the World, ed. R. J. Clifford and George MacRae (Cambridge: Weston College Press, 1973),
83-96. In another article MacRae argues that the author presents a Jesus who fulfills the
symbolic expectations of the several Mediterranean cultures, but is "caught up in one of
them" ("The Fourth Gospel and Religionsgeschichte," CBQ 32 [1970]:13-24).
The Gospel of John and Deculturization 49

the same contrast of water and Spirit. Quoting Isaiah regarding living
water, he offers himself as that drink which satisfies (7:37-38).
In the Farewell Discourses Jesus takes up the same theme of the Spirit
as the true power of the new faith. Jesus begins the fourteenth chapter
with the important observation that the divine reality can take on many
forms. He says that there are many abiding places23 in his Father's house,
that is, the temple (ev xfj OIKIOC TOU Ttatpoc; |ioi) jiovai TtoAAai eioiv, 14:2).
Despite rigid interpretations of 14:6 ("Jesus said to him, 'I am the way,
and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through
me.' "), these verses indicate not only the singleness of the divine reality,
but also the multiplicity of the cultural forms (|iovat noXkai) that the
faith can assume. Far beyond the temple at Jerusalem, the Spirit-Paraclete
will lead Johannine believers into all the truth (eic, Tfjv &A,f|9eiav 7tao~av
16:13 — taking the text of Vaticanus); the Spirit will accomplish greater
works (KCCI neitpva TOUTGOV 7toir|aei, 14:12); and the Spirit will abide
(take cultural form, ^ievei, 14:17). Clearly, this will not happen until
even the cultural reification of Jesus has been left behind (14:12, 27-28;
15:26). In one of the most remarkable passages in the Fourth Gospel,
Mary Magdalene, having come to the empty tomb, and having found
the resurrected Jesus, moves to hug him (20:17). Jesus responds to the
woman who loves him, \xx\ \xox> otTtTOi); that is to say, "Do not keep me
in this cultural milieu." By going to the Father, Jesus relinquishes the
cultural specificity of the incarnation and allows the Spirit to be at work
in the world.
Seen this way John makes the Spirit (7tvea)|ia; 7iap&KA,r|TO<;; A,6yog)
the operational divine reality. The world did not know the Spirit-Word
(1:10); the Spirit came to Israel through the prophets but was not re-
ceived (1:11). The Spirit was only known occasionally through what
modern scholars call an "altered state of consciousness." The author
of the Fourth Gospel speaks of Jesus as one who actually embodied the
Spirit, a Spirit that came from God (1:1) and which was released for
further embodiment at the death of Jesus (19:30). Because Jesus was the
embodiment of the Spirit rather than its agent (as the Synoptics have it),
the narrative changes radically. For example, in John healings occur be-
cause of the presence of Jesus rather than through the more charismatic
exorcisms found in the Synoptics.
When we speak of the agent of inculturation in the Pauline tradition,
we mean the Jesus tradition. When we speak of the agent of incultura-
tion in the Johannine tradition, we mean the Spirit. The actual effectual

23. See J. C. Dillow, "Abiding Is Remaining in Fellowship: Another Look at John 15:1—
6," Bibliotheca Sacra 147 (1990),44-53.
50 Inculturation in the New Testament

difference between the Jesus tradition and the Spirit may not be great,
but the method of operation would be quite different.

Christology
Taken in its simplest form, the development of the Johannine community
consists of three stages. First, in the initial years they were a deviant group
within Judaism who believed that Jesus was the Messiah. The "Gospel
of Signs" would reflect the Christology of the earliest period. Second,
about the year 70, conflicts arose between the Johannine group and its
synagogues. With the destruction of the temple a separation occurred.
The Johannine group apparently was expelled (9:22; 12:42; 16:2). The
new community, isolated from Judaism, gathered around a Jesus who
was the revelatory agent of God. Third, separated from Judaism, the
Johannine community eventually spoke of God in terms of a Jesus who
embodied the divine reality. The final redaction of the Gospel of John
reflects this high Christology throughout. The opening hymn identifies
the A,6yoq as God, the same A,6yoc, that becomes flesh (1:14). In 20:28 the
sceptic Thomas exclaims the confession that we all (as readers) will have
affirmed: "My Lord and my God!" Jesus frequently identifies himself
with the Father (8:19; 14:7, 9-11). Indeed, Jesus and the Father are
one (10:30). The great "I AM" sayings attempt to identify Jesus as the
icupioc, of the Greco-Roman cults in terms of the tetragrammaton of Exod.
3:14 — a marvelous identity because of the Septuagintal translation 6 cov,
Ultimate Being.
The present consensus regarding the development of the Gospel of
John assumes a conflict situation with the synagogue. Much care has
been exercised in the construction of this thesis. However, the history
of Johannine research is loaded with landmines. Very few theories have
lasted. The major critical objection to the present-day Jewish conflict the-
sis comes from literary criticism. The redactor of John uses opponents as
a means of evangelizing, not as an object of historical conflict. The dia-
logues are so constructed as either to designate what we ought not believe
(11:25-27) or to create dialogue partners who are so dimwitted or mis-
taken that their response forces the reader to believe in Jesus (3:4; 4:15). 24
Jews (Nicodemus, Pharisees, Caiaphas), early Christians (Mary, Martha,
Peter), and Romans (Pilate) serve as dimwitted dialogue partners. If one
is to say that John was developed in conflict with the synagogue, then
one should also add the Petrine church to the list of opponents. 25

24. Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel.

25. Snyder, "John 3:16."
The Gospel of John and Deculturization 51

The high Christology of the Gospel of John serves as a mission Chris-

tology. It places divine reality, or the Spirit, in one person. By isolating
that person it is not the intent of the final redactor to create an extra-
historical plane of reality (spiritualism or Gnosticism), but to grant the
new church, now in a non-Palestinian context, the possibility of pre-
senting that divine reality to any culture. The Gospel's literary style
exemplifies and effects that intent.

Anti-Judaism26
Some Jewish scholars consider the Gospel of John the most anti-Judaic of
the New Testament writings. There are five main reasons why the Fourth
Gospel has that reputation.
First, the high Christology appears to make Jesus equivalent with the
Jewish God. Although it is true that the Gospel speaks of equivalency, we
have argued above that the divinity of Jesus results from (1) a theology
of divine embodiment that differs from the Synoptics, and (2) the desire
of the Johannine community to present a Lord untrammeled by cultural
specificity.27
Second, conflict with the synagogue, as projected by some readers,
leaves the impression that the Johannine community was anti-Judaic. 28
Again, as we have shown above, conflicts in the Gospel of John are lit-
erary constructions intended to induce faith in Jesus. Dialogues in this
Gospel are not to be taken as actual conflicts. To be sure, some dialogues
may represent more than literary constructs involving dimwitted charac-
ters (e.g., Mary and Martha, the Greeks, Pilate), but even those involving
serious content ought not be taken as actually expressing the position
of the opponent. For example, one does not suppose Pilate's search for
the truth actually represents a primary concern of Roman administrative
officials.
Third, and more critical, are direct attacks by Jesus on Judaism. Sev-
eral times the Jewish law stands in conflict with Jesus (10:34; 15:25;

26. C. K. Barrett, The Gospel of John and Judaism (London: SPCK, 1975); Luke T.
Johnson, "The New Testament's Anti-Jewish Slander and the Conventions of Ancient
Polemic," JBL 108 (1989): 4 1 9 - 4 1 ; J. T. Townsend, "The Gospel of John and the Jews:
The Story of Religious Divorce," in Anti-Semitism and the Foundations of Christianity, ed.
Alan Davies (New York: Paulist, 1979), 72-97; Urban C. von Wahlde, "The 'Johannine'
Jews: A Critical Survey," NTS (1982): 3 3 - 6 0 .
27. A. C. Sundberg, "Isos to Theos Christology in John 5:17-30" BR 15 (1970): 1 9 - 3 1 .
28. Robert Kysar, "John's Anti-Jewish Polemic," Bible Review 9 (1993): 83-95; J. N.
Sanders, Schismatics, Sectarians, Dissidents, Deviants: The First One Hundred Years of
Jewish-Christian Relations (Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1993); J. Louis
Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (New York: Harper &c Row, 1968);
Hayim Perelmuter, Siblings: Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity at Their Beginnings
(Mahwah, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1989); Raymond Brown, The Community of the Beloved
Disciple (New York: Paulist Press, 1979).
52 Inculturation in the New Testament

19:7). References to the law certainly do indicate a separation: "your

law," "their law." The several references do not attack the Jews for hav-
ing Torah, but for interpreting Torah in such a way that blocks their
recognition of Jesus. Interpretation of the law as it related to Jesus must
have been a difference between Judaism and the Johannine community
(and well it should have been), but the Fourth Gospel does not attack
or depreciate the law.
Fourth, references to the persecution of Jesus by the Jews (5:16; 10:31;
18:36) do point to antagonism. Such references present a problem for
interpretation. Persecution language, taken from the Hebrew Scriptures,
tends either to indicate the presence of a deviant-conflictive group or to
identify someone as the "suffering righteous." If the redactor intended to
deculturize Jesus, it hardly seems congruent to identify him as a suffer-
ing righteous in the Jewish context. The Synoptics do make Jesus one of
the suffering righteous, but normally, John carefully avoids any such vic-
timization on the part of Jesus (10:17-18; 18:6, 36). Still, John uses that
psalm of lament, Psalm 22, which was used by the Synoptics to construct
the Passion narrative and to indicate that Jesus was a suffering righteous.
Yet the purpose of the cross in John is to lift up the suffering love of God
(3:14-16). Although designating Jesus as righteous has little value for
John, it supports the theological intent of the Gospel to identify him as
divine reality that suffers because that reality has been rejected. Jesus as
the Passover lamb makes the same point (1:29, 36; 13:1): if you see the
lamb lifted up, you may assimilate the suffering love of God.
Fifth, the Jews are children of the devil (8:44). In the deeply conflictive
chapter 8 Jesus claims that the listeners are offspring of their father the
devil. In 8:42 he has already said that they cannot be children of God the
Father, because if they were, they would love (and know) him. References
in John to the devil are not easily understood. John seems to have no in-
terest in the source of evil (3:18; 9:3). The devil is the perversion of divine
reality. The devil directed the work of Judas (13:2), yet the "betrayal"
itself is very difficult to discern.29 The devil is not a tempter or a source
of evil, but symbolizes that shift in Jewish perspective which makes the
Jews miss seeing divine reality in the decultured (non-Jewish) Jesus.

Summary
The Jesus tradition recaptures the Mosaic tradition and describes that
intended corporate life as the reign of God. The kingdom is close at hand;
therefore the present age has severe limits. Indeed, it cannot deliver God's

29. William Klassen, Judas: Betrayer or Friend of Jesus? (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996).
The Gospel of. John and Deculturization 53

will as originally revealed. The tradition left by Jesus became a "virus"

that first impacted Palestinian society, and then the Roman. That virus
declassified society by obliterating distinctions (e.g., in clean and unclean)
and reconstructed the new age through sharing life together, especially
as seen in commensalism.
Paul keeps the same perception of the coming age, even using, from
time to time, the Jesus tradition to buttress his arguments. His eschatol-
ogy, however, goes in a different direction. He may support the present
age (governmental authorities, family and sexual values, even class dis-
tinctions), but he devalues any such elements of the status quo. As a
result, one can see in the Pauline letters an emerging social structure
that eventually undermines the present age. He asks the congregation to
make its own legal decisions; he seeks order in congregational meetings;
he opts for stronger family ties; he insists on gender and ethnic evenness.
In Paul we can see the inculturation of the Jesus tradition at work in
Mediterranean society.
The redactor of the Gospel of John goes yet another direction. Faced
with separation from Judaism and an audience that did not know the
Jewish culture, John deculturized Jesus. In what might appear as antag-
onism to some readers, John, with consummate literary skill, took Jesus
out of his specific culture and made him available to any culture. The
Jesus reality was passed on through the action of the Spirit and the love
of the faith community. They "passed on their psyche" (jieitpvoc Tamnq
&Y&7tr|v o\)8eic; e%ei, i'va TIC, tfrv \|/i)%f|v autoi) 0fj \mep xcov qriAxov a w o v ,
John 15:13), which was the act of inculturation. 30 The Gospel of John
has become many things to many people over the course of history. These
many things were not, and are not, in the Fourth Gospel, but are the result
of the inculturation affecting a variety of cultural media.

30. As noted in chap. 2, "psyche" means "personhood."

 Chapter 5

The Second Generation

The second generation of Christianity reflects the invasion of the Medi-

terranean culture by the Jesus tradition. Before moving to the specific
invasion that led to the Roman-Western form of Christianity, we must
consider what other explanations have been proffered to account for the
second generation.
For the most part Protestant New Testament scholars speak of the
demise of that nascent Christianity found in Jesus, Paul, and John, a
demise that they earlier discussed under the rubric of early Catholicism.
We consider the term "early Catholicism" a seriously misleading one for
this discussion, and it will appear only when historical accuracy demands
it. Yet the term indicates the nature of the debate. Something happened
to the Christian movement that Protestant scholars, in particular, have
found alien to the original impulse.1 Prior to the "early Catholic" debate,
it was generally assumed that the later church was continuous with the
early church. Before dealing with theories of change it would be appro-
priate to mention briefly those who do not assume any inappropriate
changes.

Change Has Not Occurred

Faced with the Protestant use of Scripture against the Roman Catholic
church, James Benign Bossuet, bishop of Meaux and strong defender
of the received faith, insisted that the Catholic church, from its do-
minical inception, had not changed in either doctrine or practice. As
seen in his major work, The History of the Variations of the Protestant
Churches, variation comes with heresy, not the church itself, "because
the Church, who professes to speak and teach nothing but what she hath
received, does never vary; whereas Heresy, which began by innovating,
daily innovates, and changes not its nature." 2 Bossuet was willing to

1. Robert L. Wilken, The Myth of Christian Beginnings: History's Impact on Belief

(Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1971).
2. James Benign Bossuet, The History of the Variations of the Protestant Churches
(Antwerp: n.p., 1742), vol. 1, sec. 5.

57
58 Theories of Transformation

grant that there had been changes of words and descriptions, but not of
principles.3

Disciplina Arcanum
Some Catholic theologians argued for the continuity of the later church
with the early church by asserting that later doctrines and practices had
been kept secret by the first Christians. Such secrecy was necessary in part
because of the private nature of certain practices and in part because of
threats from exterior enemies. Despite its use by Catholic theologians the
term disciplina arcanum was first coined by a Protestant controversialist,
John Daille,4 in his attempt to discredit examples in the then supposed
first-century witness of Pseudo-Dionysius {De ecclesiastica heirarchia,
par. 7). 5 In the controversy that ensued, primarily between the Prot-
estant Ernest Tentzel and the Catholic Emanuel Schelstrate, the latter
insisted that later ecclesiastical developments, such as the doctrine of the
Trinity and the practice of the sacraments, had been handed down se-
cretly through initiates.6 The arguments for a disciplina arcanum were
sharply rejected by Cardinal Newman, who described later Catholicism
as the logical extension and development of the first church. 7 However,
Yves Congar's use of unwritten apostolic traditions does not differ in
kind from the older argument of a disciplina arcanum, i.e., that later
developments existed earlier in an unwritten form.

Logical Extension of the Apostolic Tradition

At first, as in the case of Francesco Suarez or Luis Molina, logical in-
ference meant just what it says: doctrinal development could be tested
syllogistically.8 Dhanis, on the other hand, proposed three principles for
determining whether a legitimate extension had occurred.9
1. The principle of faithful exposition. Those truths that become the
explicit items of faith during the development of dogma must have

3. Owen Chadwick, From Bossuet to Newman: The Idea of Doctrinal Development

(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1957), 20.
4. John Daille, De scriptis quae sub Dionysius Areopagite et Ignatii Antiocheni
nominibus circumferunter (Geneva: de Tournes, 1666), 140.
5. On the history and text see Paul Rorem, Pseudo-Dionysius: A Commentary on the
Texts and an Introduction to Their Influence (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993).
6. Emanuel Schelstrate, De disciplina arcani contra disputationem Ernesti Tentzelli
(Rome: Sac. Congregat. de Propaganda Fide, 1685).
7. John Henry Newman, An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine
(London: Pickering, 1878), 27.
8. Cited in Chadwick, From Bossuet to Newman, 21-48.
9. Yves M.-J. Congar, Tradition and Traditions, trans. Michael Naseby and Thomas
Rainborough (London: Burns and Oates, 1966), 5 0 - 6 4 . Congar denies that these teachings
were esoteric.
The Second Generation 59

been implicit, by means of faithful exposition, in the teachings of

the apostles.
2. The principle of the exclusion of a new revelation. Those truths
that become the explicit objects of faith during the development of
dogma should have been implicit in the revealed deposit in such a
way that the Fathers were able to discover them, as truths of faith
without the assistance of a new revelation.
3. The principle of an original and formal witness for all dogmas.
Those truths that become the explicit items of faith during the de-
velopment of dogma should have been implicit, in the apostolic
deposit, as the object of a formal witness of God.

Appropriate Development of the Original

Whatever the Catholic antecedents of John Henry Newman, 10 it was he
who took the historical evidence seriously, admitted the changes in doc-
trine, and persuasively propounded an analogy of organic development
to show that the true church would be that which, according to princi-
ples of development, blossomed forth from the original seed. His famous
criteria were: preservation of type, continuity of principles, power of as-
similation, logical sequence, anticipation of its future, conservative action
upon its past, and chronic vigor.11
Despite the power of these arguments in previous historical debate,
and even though one may occasionally find a contemporary adherent
for one of these positions, actually, in the course of recent Catholic-
Protestant debate regarding "early Catholicism" the lines of discussion
have changed so radically as to render them useless.12 The three argu-
ments of Dhanis assume the unity of an apostolic witness on which
continuity or logical development could depend. Nearly all historians
of the early church would now agree that the divisions that plague us are
inherent in the New Testament itself.
Many historians, admittedly primarily Protestant, have assumed that
some transformations occurred in the first centuries of the church —
transformations that resulted in a second- and third-century church quite
different from the "original." While many of these historians also im-
properly assume a "purity" (and unity) for the New Testament church
from which the fatal transformation could occur, still it will be necessary

10. Chadwick, From Bossuet to Newman, 118-19, and Vittorio Subilia, The Problem
of Catholicism, trans. R. Kissack (London: SCM, 1964), 103.
11. Newman, Development of Christian Doctrine, 169-206.
12. Ernst Kasemann, "The Canon of the New Testament and the Unity of the Church,"
Essays on New Testament Themes, trans. W. J. Montague (London: SCM, 1964), 103.
60 Theories of Transformation

to catalogue these transformations in order to understand the present

discussion.

The Incursion of Heresy

That the church in some way "fell" or lost its primary vision cannot be
considered a recent invention of Reformation propaganda. The early his-
torian Hegesippus, as reported by Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 4.22), spoke of
the first-century church at Jerusalem as a virgin that later was ravished
by seven heresies. In a style that prefigured Harnack, the iconoclastic
Tertullian claimed that the church's use of pagan philosophy caused its
postapostolic woes (Praescr. haer. 7). 13 Nevertheless, for our purposes,
historiography of early church transformations begins early in the nine-
teenth century with the work of F. C. Baur. It would be instructive to
trace the history of early church transformations from Baur to the present
day, but because of the complexity involved in distinguishing between a
transformation and its alleged cause or causes, it seems appropriate to
catalogue all the transformations proposed, since Baur, by historians of
the early church.

The Eschatological Transformation

According to current historiography, the foremost transformation of the
church came with the collapse of intense eschatology or apocalypticism.
The eschatological nature of the message of Jesus was not fully recog-
nized until 1892. It was the monumental work of Johannes Weiss, which
portrayed Jesus as so bound to Jewish apocalypticism that, to utilize the
"Jesus story," some transformation was necessary in the early church —
to say nothing of the twentieth century.14 Jesus expected the end imme-
diately;15 he expected the coming kingdom to be given into his hands; 16
and he taught an ethic of preparation for that kingdom, a kingdom that
stood "in diametric opposition to this world." 17 Jesus and those who
shared his expectation were mistaken. Consequently it became necessary
to transform that eschatological nature of earliest Christianity. Unfortu-
nately scholars cannot agree about the nature of this modification. In a
cynical moment one could say that the failure of eschatology resulted in

13. See also Wilken, Myth of Christian Beginnings, 52-76.

14. Proposed in his Die Predigt Jesus vom Reiche Gottes. Quotations here are taken
from the English translation, Jesus' Proclamation of the Kingdom of God, trans. R. H.
Hiers and D. L. Holland (London: SCM, 1971).
15. Weiss, Jesus' Proclamation, 85.
16. Ibid., 126.
17. Ibid., 114.
The Second Generation 61

the development of whatever aspect of church and theology the historian

disliked. But even this suspicion has one certain exception, to which we
now turn.

The Felix Culpa of Eschatology

Weiss himself was pleased by the later transformation of the original

"imminent eschatology." An ethic of the heavenly kingdom would be
more beneficial to our day than that radical, even political, apocalyp-
ticism of Jesus. 18 So we must, without regret, give up the notion that
today's Christian teaching can be a "simple application of the teaching
of Jesus." 19 Christianity could not have existed with radical apocalyp-
ticism and is well rid of it. However controversial it may be, in light
of subsequent developments, it seems quite clear that Weiss's contem-
porary, Albert Schweitzer, in the first instance also was happy to see
an end to imminent eschatology in early Christianity. Schweitzer had
been a convinced Kantian in search of a religious a priori. 20 For him a
valid ethic must be world-affirming. An ethic based on the expectation
of the coming kingdom of God would be world-denying. 21 The failure
of Jesus' apocalypticism left his spiritual heirs, i.e., the early and me-
dieval church, with a world-denying ethic (asceticism) until Renaissance
Christians shifted to a world-affirming ethic.22 That world-affirming cat-
egorical imperative sought by Schweitzer was, of course, "reverence for
life."23 Only after disposing of the apocalyptic Jesus24 and relegating his
world-denying, apocalyptic-bound teachings to an ill-fated interim,25 did
Schweitzer realize that the failure of the end to materialize, i.e., the trans-
formation of eschatology, could be used to explain the development of
the postapostolic church.
As the latter thesis was developed, the point at which eschatology
failed became identified with the beginning of Hellenization, a much
repeated "transformation" charge, or the loss of Jewish eschatological

18. Ibid., 135-36.

19. Ibid., 113.
20. Albert Schweitzer, Die Religionsphilosophie Kants von der Kritik der reinen Ver-
nunft bis zur Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blofien Vernunft (Tubingen: Mohr,
1899).
21. Albert Schweitzer, The Teaching of Reverence for Life (London: Owen, 1966), 12.
22. Ibid., 16. See also his essay, "The Conception of the Kingdom of God in the
Transformation of Eschatology," in E. N. Mozley, The Theology of Albert Schweitzer for
Christian Inquirers (London: Black, 1950), 99.
23. Schweitzer, Teaching of Reverence for Life, 27.
24. Albert Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus, trans. W. Montgomery
(London: Black, 1954), 396-97.
25. Ibid., 364, 358.
62 Theories of Transformation

vitality.26 Strangely enough, now Schweitzer looks with sadness on what

he previously applauded:

The abandonment of eager expectation meant that Christianity lost

the joy which characterized it in the days of Paul and the early
Church. It started in bright sunshine, but had to continue its journey
in the chilly gloom of a vague and uncertain hope. 27

Although the impetus for both Weiss and Schweitzer may have derived
from the desire to free Christianity (ethics, particularly) from a fanatic
Jesus, their net effect was to trigger a basic discussion of how the failure
of the Parousia affected the life and doctrine of the early church.

From Eschatology to Incarnation

Johannes Weiss never defined the point at which eschatology was trans-
formed, but for Schweitzer, and after him, Martin Werner, incarnational
theology as expounded by Ignatius of Antioch and the author of the Gos-
pel of John marked the first and foremost attempt of the early church to
transform a hopeless and useless theology.28 Other texts can be cited to
show disappointment in and rationalization of the failure of the Parousia
(Heb. 10:35-39; 2 Pet. 3:8-9; 2 Thess. 2:1-12), but only in incarnational
theology do we find the attempt so to revise eschatology that Christians
now have a totally different raison d'etre. Schweitzer finds this primarily
in the confessional shift from a more eschatological dying and rising with
Christ to a more Hellenistic union of flesh and spirit (evcooiq oapKiKr| t e
Kcct 7tvea)|iaxiKr|, Ign. Magn. 13:2). 29 In this way the divine was united
with the human in Jesus so as to bring redemption by means of the incar-
nation itself as mediated by participation in the sacraments. Such, then,
was the major transformation of the early church, perpetuated by the Lo-
gos theology of John and Justin Martyr. 30 Martin Werner tried to show
how other transformations, e.g., regarding baptism and ecclesiology, as

26. Albert Schweitzer, Christianity and the Religions of the World (London: Allen and
Unwin, 1923), 25-26.
27. Schweitzer, "Conception of the Kingdom of God," 83.
28. Schweitzer placed Ignatius before John chronologically in The Mysticism of Paul
the Apostle (London: Black, 1931), 339. For Werner, more appropriately, the author of
the Gospel of John was the first Christian incarnationalist; see his Formation of Christian
Dogma (London: Black, 1957), 62-64.
29. Schweitzer, Mysticism of Paul the Apostle, 343. Schweitzer failed to note the context
of such sayings. They are never metaphysical, but always ethical or hierarchical. See C. C.
Richardson, The Christianity of Ignatius of Antioch (New York: Columbia University Press,
1935), 33-39; Edouard Bruston, Ignace d'Antioche: ses epitres, sa vie, sa theologie (Paris:
Fischbacher, 1897), 222.
30. Schweitzer, Mysticism of Paul the Apostle, 348.
The Second Generation 63

well as the eucharist, could be explained by this primary theological shift

from eschatology to incarnation. 31
The thesis of Schweitzer and Werner has been rejected out-of-hand
except, perhaps, for a more extended debate in post-World War II
Switzerland.32 Nevertheless, as will be seen, their basic thesis has had
a profound effect on New Testament scholarship. Few would say that
early Catholicism, i.e., sacramentalism, ecclesiasticism, hierarchicalism,
and moralism, resulted from an incarnational theology. However, most
would say that these "changes" were due to the delay of the Parousia. As
Cullmann has noted, one wonders if those who rejected Schweitzer and
Werner have not indeed utilized precisely the same thesis dressed in less
inflammatory language.33 For example, does Kasemann actually differ
radically from Schweitzer when he finds in John a nascent early Catholi-
cism that has transformed eschatology into protology, and presents Jesus
as God walking on earth? 34 Or could not Helmut Koester be quoting
Schweitzer when he says that Ignatius made of Jesus a metaphysical real-
ity, the purpose of which was "to bring about the unification of flesh and
spirit in order to give to those who are flesh the possibility of partaking
of the spirit though the sacrament?" 35
At the same time, it should be noted that the shift from Jesus and Paul
to John has not always been lamented. At least Rudolf Bultmann denies
that John has transformed the Parousia; rather, John wrote to show that
the "parousia has already occurred." 36 So the struggle between those who
lament the early Catholicism of John and those who applaud his realized
eschatology has yet to be resolved.

From Eschatology to Historicization

Interest in Johannine incarnationalism has waned, largely because in re-
cent times the historicizing tendency of Luke has become the locus of the
transformation debate. Once the eschatology of Jesus had been positively
interpreted through existential categories — the "noch nicht aber doch
schon" of Bultmann 37 — it became possible to see the basic transforma-
tion of eschatology in the normative use of tradition or history. That this

31. Werner, Formation of Christian Dogma, 165-92, 269-82.

32. Oscar Cullmann, "Parusieverzogerung und Urchristentum," TLZ 3 (1958): 2.
33. Ibid., 5-6.
34. Ernst Kasemann, The Testament of Jesus, trans. G. Krodel (London: SCM, 1968),
73.
35. Helmut Koester, "History and Cult in the Gospel of John and in Ignatius of
Antioch," JTC 1 (1965): 111-23.
36. Rudolf Bultmann, "The Eschatology of the Gospel of John," in Faith and
Understanding, trans. L. P. Smith (London: SCM, 1960), 175.
37. Rudolf Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, trans. K. Grobel (London:
SCM,1952), 1:7.
64 Theories of Transformation

occurred in the patently historical work of Luke-Acts (Luke 1:1-4) had

long been noted. 38 But just where the present controversy started can-
not be ascertained. Most likely it was Philipp Vielhauer, in his article,
"On the Paulinism of Acts," 39 who first pinpointed the way in which
the transformation occurred. He suggested that Paul had no quantitative
understanding of the "noch nicht aber doch schon"; 40 i.e., there was no
redemptive history between Easter and the Parousia (1 Cor. 15:20-24).
However, according to Vielhauer, Luke keeps both Easter and the Parou-
sia, but gives the "in between" a quantitative value — Heilsgeschichte.
In Acts 13:16-41, through the mouth of Paul, Luke no longer presents
a rupture of the old age by a breaking in of the new, but a series of
actions whereby God increasingly fulfills ancient promises. The stages
of this history are: (1) the period of Israel, (2) the period of Jesus, and
(3) the time of the Spirit.41 At about the same time, H. Conzelmann
wrote his study of Luke's theology along the lines suggested by Viel-
hauer. 42 And Kasemann gave considerable weight to the position with
several approbative remarks. 43
Like the advent of incarnational theology for Schweitzer, the his-
toricization of the eschatological interval by Luke has become for
present-day scholars the causative factor in the development of dogma
and the growth of an ecclesiastical hierarchy.44 Whether or not this analy-
sis of Luke-Acts can be sustained,45 it remains that somewhere, sometime,
historicization did occur. Therefore just as incarnationalization was
the key to the postapostolic church for Schweitzer, so now historical
consciousness has become the pivotal point. Conzelmann writes:

38. Franz Overbeck had spoken of the "Degeneration des Paulinismus" in his "Uber
das Verhaltnis Justins des Martyrers zur Apostelgeschichte," ZWT 15 (1872): 349. Philipp
Vielhauer credits Overbeck with breaking from the Tubingen view of Acts and setting the
stage for the present position. See Vielhauer's "Franz Overbeck und die neutestamentliche
Wissenschaft," EvT 10 (1950-51): 200.
39. P. Vielhauer, "On the Paulinism of Acts," in Studies in Luke-Acts, ed. L. E. Keck
and J. L. Martyn (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1966), 33-50.
40. Ibid., 46.
41. Ibid., 4 6 - 4 7
42. Hans Conzelmann, The Theology of St. Luke, trans. G. Buswell (New York: Harper,
1960); see p. 14.
43. Ernst Kasemann, "The Problem of the Historical Jesus," in Essays on New Tes-
tament Themes, trans. W. J. Montague (London: SCM, 1964), 28-29; "New Testament
Questions of Today," in New Testament Questions of Today, trans. W. J. Montague
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1969), 21-22.
44. Ernst Kasemann, "Ministry and Community in the New Testament," in Essays on
New Testament Themes, 89-93.
45. See Haenchen, Acts of the Apostles, 48-49; W. C. van Unnik, "Luke-Acts, A Storm
Center in Contemporary Scholarship," in Studies in Luke-Acts, ed. L. E. Keck and J. L.
Martyn (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1966), 22-28.
The Second Generation 65

The key for the understanding of this period is the altered self-
consciousness of the church. Its founder has been pushed into a
more distant past. The church which originally consciously faced
the end of the world and understood itself as a sign of the end time,
now has taken on a historical dimension and can look back on its
own development [Geschichte].46

For some scholars the importance of this transformation lies not so

much in historicization as in the developing self-consciousness of the
church as the locus of that historicization, i.e., ecclesiasticism.

From Eschatology to Ecclesiasticism

As we shall see later, the development of an ecclesiastical hierarchy would
be one of the major marks of early Catholicism. Ordinarily the origin
of church organization, as far as Protestant scholars are concerned, has
been understood as a failure of the Spirit. However, some have under-
stood so-called ecclesiasticism as a failure of the Parousia to materialize.
Needless to say, historicization would have to engender organization.
For Kasemann, the church had to protect its now historical depositwn
fidei by the development of authorized officials. No longer was every bap-
tized person an office holder (1 Pet. 2:5-10), 47 but only certain ones were
ordained and given the charisma (1 Tim. 4:14; 2 Tim. 1:6).48 Bultmann
regards church organization as the necessary result of a de-eschatologized
sacramentalism.49 But even if church organization is not taken simply as
a necessary evil, without which early Catholicism could not have func-
tioned, then it could be seen as a direct transformation of eschatological
thought. We have already seen that eschatology was historicized in the
early church, but very likely it also was spatialized.50
So while the "orthodox" church may have created a Heilsgeschichte
between Easter and the Parousia, the spiritual, or "gnostic," church used
eschatological literature in part to describe heavenly realities.51 Whether
or not it can be shown that fragments of apocalypticism contributed

46. H. Conzelmann, History of Primitive Christianity, trans. John E. Steely (Nashville:

Abingdon, 1973), 122-23; German original, Geschichte des Urchristentums, Das Neue
Testament Deutsch, Erganzungsreihe 5 (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969), 104.
47. Kasemann, "Ministry and Community," 80.
48. Ibid., 86-87.
49. Rudolf Bultmann, History and Eschatology (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press, 1957), 53.
50. Graydon F. Snyder, "The Literalization of the Apocalyptic Form in the New
Testament Church," BR 14 (1969): 5-18.
51. R. M. Grant, Gnosticism and Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1959), 4 0 - 4 2 ; Graydon F. Snyder, The Shepherd of Hermas, vol. 6 of The Apostolic
Fathers (Camden, N.J.: Nelson, 1968), 8-10.
66 Theories of Transformation

to the gnostic mythology, still, if in eschatological thought the church

was the sign of the end, standing, as it were, between the "already" but
"not yet," now, in the later church, it stands between the earthly and
the heavenly. Since the tension had shifted from chronology to space, the
function of the church was altered accordingly.
The nature of this change was first noted by Heinrich Schlier.52 On
the basis of appropriate texts in Ephesians, Colossians, and Ignatius, 53
Schlier showed that the Pauline body of Christ, an eschatological en-
tity, had, in deuteropauline literature, become a gnostic entity in which
the earthly GCOfioc participated in the heavenly nature of the KecpocA/p. For
Schlier, and subsequently also Kasemann, who considerably expanded
the thesis,54 this transformation was due to the incursion of Gnosticism.
However, it would be quite possible to maintain that it was the spatial
inversion of eschatology (frustrated by the failure of the Parousia) that
made it possible for the church to become the visible manifestation of
the heavenly body. This has been said no more clearly perhaps than by
Franz-Heinrich Kettler, who found especially in Ignatius a church that
had become an interim (!) on the way to heavenly existence: "The accent
of the concept of the church shifted more and more from the end of his-
tory to heaven present in the church." 55 For Kettler the hierarchy was no
functional accident (as with most nineteenth-century Protestant critics),
but a deliberate attempt of Christians to pattern the earthly church after
the heavenly hierarchy that it represented. For Ignatius the heavenly hier-
archy of Father (God), Christ (head), church (body) was manifest in the
church with the bishop replacing God or Christ (Ign. Smyrn. 8:2; Ign.
Trail. 3:1; Ign. Magn. 6:1).
In the early church the union of the heavenly with the earthly was
symbolized not only by the Ke9aA.fi-ocoua image, but also by the marriage
of Christ and the church (Eph. 5:32; 2 Clem. 14) and by the image of
the church as a heavenly structure (Eph. 2:20-22; Ign. Eph. 9; Herm.
Vis. 9-16). 56 The visibility of the church was in the sacrament and in
authorized charismatic leadership, both of which have been named as

52. First in Religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu den Ignatius briefen (Beihefte

zur Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, no. 8 (Giessen: Topelmann, 1929);
then in Christus und die Kirche im Epheserbrief, Beitrage zur historischen Theologie, no. 6
(Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1930), 37-48.
53. Eph. 1:22-23; 2:15; 3:6; 4:12,15, 25; 5:23, 29-30; Col. 1:18, 24b; 2:10, 19; 3:15;
Ign. Smyrn. 1:2; 11:2; Ign. Trail. 11:2; Ign. Eph. 4:2.
54. Ernst Kasemann, Leib und Leib Christi, Beitrage zur historischen Theologie, no. 9
(Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1933), 156-59.
55. Franz-Heinrich Kettler, "Enderwartung und himmlischen Stufenbau in Kirchen-
begriff des nachapostolischen Zeitalters," TLZ 79 (1954): 388.
56. Likewise Schlier, Christus und die Kirche, 4 9 - 6 0 . See my critique in Shepherd of
Hernias, 4 2 - 4 3 .
The Second Generation 67

signs of nascent Catholicism. And for some scholars sacramentalism, too,

resulted from the transformation of eschatology.

From Eschatology to Sacramentalism

None of the so-called transformations are easy to document and clarify,
but the rise of sacramentalism ranks high among the complicated issues
of New Testament research. At this point we will simply outline the thesis
without demonstrating the difficulties.
It was Hans Lietzmann who first delineated the two forms of Eucharist
in the early church. On the one hand, the Jerusalem type (Serapion)
consisted of the breaking of bread (1 Cor. 10:14-17), a prayer of thanks-
giving (Acts 2:42-47), and a statement of expectation: maranatha (Did.
9-10; cf. 1 Cor. 16:22). On the other hand, there is the Pauline type
(Hippolytus) as found in 1 Cor. 11:23-27, which obviously is joined to
the Last Supper (Mark 14:22-25 and pars.), contains a statement of in-
stitution, and reenacts or recalls the death of Jesus, his resurrection, and
his coming again. 57
According to Lietzmann both forms, equally early, had an end-time
expectation. It would be tempting to suppose that the breaking of bread
was primarily an eschatological meal that was eventually replaced by
the Pauline memorial meal, but Lietzmann cannot find any developmen-
tal bridge between the two types.58 And both do have eschatological
sentences (Did. 10:6; 1 Cor. 11:26). Nevertheless, it was the simple Jeru-
salem meal that did tend to disappear, while the Pauline Eucharist became
the dominant type.
As time passed, eschatological sayings in the Eucharist liturgy waned
in importance so that eventually the elements of the memorial meal be-
came the means of salvation for the believer. In the sacraments, especially
the Eucharist, the heavenly Christ was made available. According to
Bultmann this shift can be seen most clearly in the famous "medicine
of immortality" passage (Ign. Eph. 20:2), 59 though John 6:51-58 may
have the same intent. 60 So the net effect of the eschatological failure was
to shift the interest of the believer from the "destiny of the world" to the
"salvation of the person" as mediated through a sacramental system.61 It

57. Hans Lietzmann, Mass and Lord's Supper: A Study in the History of the Liturgy,
trans. Dorothea H. G. Reeve (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 2 0 4 - 5 .
58. Ibid., 206.
59. Bultmann, History and Eschatology, 53. See my critique in "The Text and Syntax
of Ignatius PROS EPHESIOUS 20:2c," VC 22 (1968): 8-13.
60. Rudolf Bultmann, The Gospel of John, trans. G. R. Beasley-Murray (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1971), 234-37.
61. Bultmann, History and Eschatology, 51
68 Theories of Transformation

was this shift from eschatology to sacramentalism that gave rise to that
church order and hierarchy so characteristic of early Catholicism.62

From Simplicity to Complexity

Although the debate over early Christian transformation centers primar-

ily on the fate of eschatology, this was neither the first nor foremost
concern of past New Testament scholarship. As mentioned above, it
was F. C. Baur who first articulated a theology (or philosophy) of early
Christian transformation. Dissatisfied with Catholic and Protestant his-
torians both, he condemned their separation of the history of dogma
from the history of the church itself.63 Catholic historians falsely in-
sisted that dogma did not change and Protestant historians unrealistically
yearned for pre-Constantinian purity. By means of a complex, but dy-
namic, mixture of Kantian and Hegelian categories Baur demonstrated
the unity of dogma with history (for Baur that meant church order). 64 As
Jesus was at once divine and human so did he at the same time embody
the idea of the Absolute in historical structures. The Spirit of Jesus —
involving both absolute and history — was also articulated by Paul,
but encroached upon by Judaism, or Jewish Christianity, a religion of
law and ceremony. Increasingly the Absolute became determined by cir-
cumstances; that is, autonomous Christianity was gradually replaced by
heteronomous Jewish Christianity. In reaction some Christians fled into
an ahistorical spiritual purity called Gnosticism, to which others reacted
by making of dogma a tradition, and changing the self-determining con-
gregation into a universal hierarchy headed by Rome. This latter reaction
he called early Catholicism.65 As we have seen, Baur did not himself scorn
dogma and church order. He understood them to be the twin expressions
of the Spirit of a religion.66 So the transformation of which Baur spoke
was not the loss of the Spirit, but a shift in the intellectual and historical
embodiment of the Spirit. Taken that way, Baur does see church history
much like the non-transformationists do: historical changes are merely
the working out of an interior dialectical dynamic. In the end, Protes-
tantism best expresses the position of Jesus and Paul because it exists

62. Ibid., 53.

63. Ferdinand C. Baur, Die Epochen der kirchlichen Geschichtschreibung (Tubingen:
Fues, 1852), 7 0 - 7 1 ; Peter C. Hodgson, ed., Ferdinand Christian Baur on the Writing of
Church History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1968), 104-5.
64. Hodgson, Baur on the Writing of Church History, 57-59; F. C. Baur, Die Epochen,
12-17.
65. F. C. Baur, The Church History of the First Three Centuries, trans. A. Menzies
(London: Williams and Norgate, 1878), 1:112-14, 184-87, and passim.
66. Hodgson, Baur on the Writing of Church History, 244.
The Second Generation 69

autonomously (apart from the state!).67 However difficult it may be pre-

cisely to place Baur in the history of New Testament interpretation, there
can be no question about his pivotal importance. Many of his perceptions
became the dogmas (usually greatly altered) of later transformationists.
And to this day the transformation of Christianity, i.e., the rise of early
Catholicism, usually is conceived in terms of growing dogmatization and
increasing hierarchicalism.

The Transformation of Spirit to Law

In 1831 Baur published his famous study of the conflict between Peter
and Paul at Corinth. 68 He showed that the Christ and Peter parties, on
the one hand, representing Jewish Christianity, had attacked, on the other
hand, the Paul and Apollos parties, representing the absolute religion of
Jesus and Paul. The history of early Christianity is the gradual recon-
ciliation of these two parties to the extent that the late work Acts can
present a reconciling parallel account of both Peter and Paul. 69 Hav-
ing determined this inner dynamic of early Christian history, Baur could
place and understand other literature according to its function in the
transformational continuum. First Clement, 1 Peter, and Ephesians rep-
resented, in the name of Paul, the reintroduction of the Old Testament
(now however without Judaism) as a new law; the Pastoral Epistles, on
the other hand, introduced, in the name of Paul, a church structure that
could maintain "sound doctrine." 70 Even though the literary reconstruc-
tion of the Baur school has been totally rejected, still the thesis persists
that the Pauline tradition, and therefore early Christianity, was altered by
its struggle with Jewish Christianity.71 This alteration resulted in the loss
of autonomy (Spirit) and the return to heteronomy (law) in the guise of
dogmas that reintroduced Judaism (e.g., the preexistence of Christ) and
a hierarchy based on the Old Testament priesthood {1 Clem. 40).
Even though one must return to F. C. Baur for the origin of liberal-
Protestant transformation theories, it was not his system of thought that
prevailed. Baur did indeed set the problem, but it was Albrecht Ritschl

67. Ibid., 249.

68. F. C. Baur, "Die Christus Partie in der korinthischen Gemeinde, der Gegensatz
des petrinischen und paulinischen Christentum in der altesten Kirche, der Apostel Petrus
in Rom," Tubinger Zeitschrift fur Theologie 5 (1831): 61-206. Available also in Baur's
Ausgewahlte Werke in Einzelangaben (Stuttgart: Fromann, 1963), 1-146.
69. F. C. Baur, Church History of the First Three Centuries, 1:131-34. Baur's thesis
was expanded by Otto Pfleiderer. On Acts as the last document of the reconciliation see
his History of Paulinistn in the Primitive Church (London: Williams and Norgate, 1877),
2:228-53.
70. Ibid., 134-214.
71. Johannes Munck, Paul and the Salvation of Mankind, trans. Frank Clarke (London:
SCM, 1959), 69-86.
70 Theories of Transformation

and the Ritschlians who provided the method. In the second edition of
his Die Entstehung der altkatholischen Kirche,72 Ritschl broke radically
with Baur. As it pertains specifically to the problem of transformation,
the following variations on Baur's theme resulted:
1. It was no longer Judaism that created the transformation, but Hel-
lenism. Jewish Christianity had little influence on the early church,
but early Catholicism arose from the anti-gnostic teaching of Ire-
naeus, Tertullian, Clement, and Origen. In fact a major cause of
early Catholicism was the inability of Hellenistic (Gentile) Chris-
tianity to understand the Old Testament basis for the teaching of
Jesus and Paul. 73
2. Influenced by Schleiermacher more than Hegel or Kant, Ritschl no
longer spoke of the "essence" of Christianity as the manifestation of
the Idea in Jesus Christ, but more as the relationship (Verhaltnis),
on the one hand, of humanity with God, as determined by God
and mediated through Jesus Christ, and, on the other hand, the
concomitant behavior (Verhalten).74 In early Catholicism this re-
lationship was replaced by the particularity of Mosaic ceremonial
laws. 75
3. Earliest Christianity had officials of a Jewish type (presbyters and
deacons, Acts 15) who were not distinguished in kind from the
Jewish community as a whole. The monarchical episcopacy, which
so characterizes early Catholicism, did not appear before Ignatius
and itself derives from the Hellenistic world, not Judaism. 76
In summary, Christianity consisted of two foci: the divine relationship
and the human social counterpart (still keeping the unity of dogma and
history sought by Baur), both of which were expressed with great clarity
by Jesus and Paul. These relationships, Jewish in origin, were obfuscated
on the one hand by Hellenistic dogma in the place of faith, and on the
other hand by Roman organization in the place of a redeemed com-
munity — all held together by certain ceremonial practices reintroduced
from Judaism. Though derived from Baur, it was Ritschl's perception
of early Catholicism that became, and largely still is, the liberal Prot-
estant approach to early Christian transformation. Needless to say, in

72. Albrecht Ritschl, Die Entstehung der altkatholischen Kirche, 2d ed. (Bonn: Marcus,
1857).
73. Ibid., 331, 338
74. Ibid., 331. Regarding philosophical changes see David L. Mueller, An Introduction
to the Theology of Albrecht Ritschl (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969), 2 4 - 2 5 .
75. Ritschl, Entstehung der altkatholischen Kirche, 331-32.
76. Ibid., 419.
The Second Generation 71

subsequent history there were many variations of the Ritschlian theme.

Despite the complications caused by variations, we will try to deal with
all types under the three categories set by Ritschl himself: from faith to
dogma, from brotherhood to church, and from worship to sacrament.

From Faith to Dogma

For the followers of Ritschl, the faith of Jesus, though simple, was pro-
found. Jesus called for a trust in God, 77 voluntary singleness of moral
purpose, 78 and communion with the brethren 79 — or in the well-known
words of Harnack, "the idea of God as Father... a n d . . . the message of
the communion of brethren realising itself in love." 80
This simple teaching gave rise to a community of believers in Christ.
But when these believers, being Gentile, were cut off from the Jewish
foundation of the faith, that original piety, that inner experience, was ob-
jectified in a Hellenistic philosophical structure that we call dogma. Or,
in his famous dictum,81 Harnack claims that the development of dogma
was due to the transfer of the simple Jesus of Galilee to the complex
soil of Greece.82 Harnack did not try to locate precisely that transfor-
mation of the simple Gospel. Like Ritschl, he thought it was Irenaeus
who, because of his struggle with Gnosticism (the acute secularization of
Christianity), first expressed thoroughgoing Catholicism.83 But others,
such as Clement of Rome and Ignatius, had paved the way. For Har-
nack the primary theological shift occurred in the confession "Christ is
Lord," where Jesus, at first the mediator, replaced God as redeemer.84
Harnack's British counterpart, Edwin Hatch, was far more explicit. For
him faith, in the Old Testament sense of the word, was "trust in a person"
whereas in Greek philosophy it was "intellectual conviction." 85 Theolog-
ically speaking, Christianity was transformed when "faith passed beyond
the moral stage, or simple trust in a person, to the metaphysical stage,
or belief in certain propositions or technical definitions concerning Him,
His nature, relations and actions." 86 Although allusions to some such

77. Adolf von Harnack, History of Dogma, trans. N. Buchanan (New York: Russell
and Russell, 1958), 1:40-41, 6 3 - 6 4 .
78. Ibid., 62-63. Also Adolf von Harnack and Wilhelm Herrmann, Essays on the Social
Gospel, trans. G. M. Craik (New York: Putman's, 1907), 188-91.
79. Harnack, History of Dogma, 1:43-44, 67-68.
80. Ibid., 70.
81. Ibid., 71-72.
82. Ibid., 17, 21-22.
83. Ibid., 226-27.
84. Ibid., 183-203.
85. Edwin Hatch, The Influence of Greek Ideas and Usages upon the Christian Church
(London: Williams and Norgate, 1890), 310-11.
86. Ibid., 312-13.
72 Theories of Transformation

creedal statements might be found in the New Testament itself (Rom.

6:17; 1 Tim. 6:12; 2 Tim. 1:13; 2 John 9; Jude 3), by and large it was the
Greek Apologists, such as Justin Martyr, who made the fatal transition. 87
We need to be aware, however, that the Harnack-Hatch critique means
much more than simply a comparison of the "faith of Jesus" with "faith
about Jesus." The ramifications of this position for later New Testa-
ment scholarship have been enormous and widespread. From this school
has emanated a veritable onslaught against second-century Christianity.
Harnack himself led the attack:

How and by what influence was the living faith transformed into
the creed to be believed, the surrender to Christ into a philosophic
Christology, the Holy Church into the corpus permixtum, the glow-
ing hope of the Kingdom of heaven into a doctrine of immortality
and deification, prophecy into a learned exegesis and theological
science, the bearers of the spirit into clerics, the brethren into laity
held in tutelage, miracles and healings into nothing, or into priest-
craft, the fervent prayers into a solemn ritual, renunciation of the
world into a jealous dominion over the world, the "spirit" into
constraint and law? 88
We shall attempt to enumerate briefly the results of the Ritschl-Harnack-
Hatch bridgehead.

From Hebrew to Greek

The Hellenization of the faith has been documented primarily by the
"word study" method in New Testament scholarship. It would be rash
to suggest that the entire impetus for the Greek-Hebrew debate is lodged
in the Ritschlian system, yet its popularity and power would be difficult
to explain otherwise. However appropriate to nineteenth century liber-
alism, its roots can be traced elsewhere. To discover in Hebrew language
(and translation Greek) a more primitive pattern of thought derives from
the interest in primitivism generated by the anthropologist Levy-Bruhl at
the turn of the century.89 For biblical scholarship, that force was felt pri-
marily through the seminal work of Johannes Pedersen,90 and by a host
of others who made the "biblical mentality" normative for interpreting
the New Testament.91 At the same time, "covenant theology" came into

87. Ibid., 314-15

88. Harnack, History of Dogma, 1:45-46.
89. Lucien Levy-Bruhl, The Primitive Mentality, trans. L. Clare (London: Allen and
Unwin, 1923), 442-43.
90. Johannes Pedersen, Israel (Copenhagen: Branner og Korch, 1926), 1/2:132.
91. Thorlief Boman, Hebrew Thought Compared with Greek, trans. J. Moreau (Lon-
don: SCM, 1960), 17-26; Brevard Childs, Biblical Theology in Crisis (Philadelphia:
The Second Generation 73

its own, stressing, from a more conservative perspective than Harnack's,

of course, the unity of the Bible and the uniqueness of its message.92
From this combination of interests came the theological wordbook move-
ment that has engaged a high percentage of the labor of New Testament
scholars this century.93
The collaboration of all these forces resulted in the following "Bibli-
cal theology" consensus: (1) the faith of the New Testament should be
understood from the Old Testament forward, not the Fathers backward;
(2) New Testament faith was a simple, primitive trust relationship and a
straightforward moral code that had no philosophical value, indeed, was
destroyed by the postapostolic Greek Apologists. The philosopher Emile
Brehier states the consensus well:
While in Rome the philosopher was preaching rationalism, in Gali-
lee Jesus was instructing uneducated people who knew nothing
at all about the Greek sciences or the Greek conception of the
world, and who could grasp parables and images more readily than
the intricacies of dialectical argumentation The development of
philosophical thought was not strongly influenced by the advent of
Christianity a n d . . . there is no Christian philosophy.94
The "Hebraic mentality" approach to the New Testament created
a new canon within the canon out of those writings presumably un-
touched by Hellenism, or at least by Greek philosophy. In this way
nontransformationists were deprived of their favorite historical bridge:
second-century Christian literature. In light of this division it is surprising
that not more New Testament scholars have responded in the manner of
Claude Tresmontant: the so-called Hebraic mentality has a metaphysic
in its own right.95 However, for our purposes the point at which New
Testament Christianity became Hellenized will be an issue to which we
must return again and again.

From Agape to Eros

At first glance Anders Nygren's famous transformationist slogan — from
agape to eros — will appear to be a maverick. To be sure, he does in-
Westminster, 1970), 32-50; James Barr, The Semantics of Biblical Language (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1961), 8-10.
92. Gerhard Friedrich, "Die Problematik eines Theologischen Worterbuchs zum Neuen
Testament," Studia Evangelica (Texte und Untersuchungen 73) (1959): 481-86.
93. Childs, Biblical Theology in Crisis, 47; Hermann Cremer, Biblisch-theologisches
Worterbuch der neutestamentlichen Grazitat (Gotha: Perthes, 1911), xvi-xvii.
94. Emile Brehier, The History of Philosophy: The Hellenistic and Roman Age, trans.
W. Baskin (Chicago: University Press, 1965), 219, 225.
95. C. Tresmontant, La metaphysique du christianisme (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1961),
13; A Study of Hebrew Thought, trans. M. F. Gibson (New York: Desclee, 1960), 175-78.
74 Theories of Transformation

sist that Christianity changed, 96 but that "fall" has nothing to do with
increasing philosophy or growing ecclesiasticism. His understanding of
early Catholicism — a synthesis of agape with eros and nomos — re-
minds us simultaneously of Baur's Judaizing and Harnack's Hellenizing.
Nevertheless, Nygren's Agape and Eros does belong in the Harnackian
camp. Nygren, like Ritschl, started with the search for a religious a priori
in Kantian-Schleiermacherian categories.97 Instead of Schleiermacher's
"feeling of absolute dependence," Nygren spoke of "communion with
God" as the essence of a religion, especially Christianity.98
Communion with God in early Christianity was designated by the
Greek word agape, "unmotivated" love. It was "indifferent to value,"
"creative," and initiated "fellowship with God." 99 In contrast, Jewish
fellowship with God was determined by nomos, law; while in the Hel-
lenistic world it was designated by the word eros, acquisitive love, or
humanity's way to the divine (in contrast to God's way to humanity).
Nygren finds agape defined in such parables as the prodigal son (Luke
15:11-32) or the laborers in the vineyard (Matt. 20:1-16). In Paul's
agape of the cross, early Christian theology reached its apex, expressed
not only in God's action in Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 5:18-19), but also as
Paul's basic love motif (1 Cor. 13). After the apostolic period all three
motifs could be found in Christianity: the nomos type in the Apostolic
Fathers (especially the "two ways" [see Did. 1:1]) and the Apologists;
eros in Gnosticism; and agape in Marcion. 100 Eventually all three were
synthesized by Augustine. Theologically speaking, agape, being "volun-
tary" and "unmotivated" corresponds to the divine autonomy in more
Tubingenian terms, while nomos, which requires performance prior to
acceptance, and eros, which requires reciprocation prior to acceptance,
correspond to heteronomy. In Nygren's Agape and Eros we find yet an-
other way of saying that the pure, simple, untrammeled relationship with
God found among the first Christians was later adulterated during the
postapostolic period.

96. Anders Nygren, Essence of Christianity, trans. P. Watson (London: Epworth, 1960),
11-12.
97. Nygren, Dogmatikens vetenskapliga grundlaggning medsarskild hbnsyn till den
Kant-Schleiermacherska problemstallningen, Lunds Universitets Arsskrift N.F. Avd. 1, Bd.
17, Nr. 8 (Lund: Gleerup, 1922), 161-65.
98. Nygren, Essence of Christianity, 4 6 - 4 7 , 56-57; Agape and Eros, trans. P. Watson
(London: SPCK, 1953), 45, 68,206-7; see also Bernhard Erling, "Motif Research as a Gen-
eral Historical Method," in The Philosophy and Theology of Anders Nygren, ed. C. W.
Kegley (Carbondale, 111.: Southern Illinois University Press, 1970), 101-19; William A.
Johnson, On Religion: A Study of Theological Method in Schleiermacher and Nygren
(Leiden: Brill, 1964), 91-92.
99. Nygren, Agape and Eros, 75-81.
100. Ibid., 253.
The Second Generation 75

From the Human Jesus to the Divine Christ

It would be unkind to lay the quest for the historical Jesus also at Schleier-
macher's feet, but his considerable influence in the argument must not be
overlooked. For the problem had been set by Rationalism well before
Baur or Ritschl. It was Hermann Samuel Reimarus who first distin-
guished in an irreconcilable manner between the religion of Jesus and the
faith of the disciples.101 He found in Jesus' teaching a natural (rational)
religion, while in the disciples he found an unscrupulous crew that, after
Jesus failed to return, 102 fabricated the story about his resurrection, his
supernatural nature, and his miraculous powers. 103 Reimarus intended
his anonymous work to be an attack on orthodox Christian doctrine.
But his posthumous publisher, G. E. Lessing, in making them public as
the Wolfenbiittel Fragments (1774-78), intended to show that Christian
dogma need not depend on historical antecedent; that is, the Christian
faith does not need a historical origin in order to be grounded in reason,
or, as he said in his famous dictum: the religion is not true because the
evangelists and apostles taught it, but they taught it because it was true.
Written traditions must be explained according to their inner truth, and
no writing down of tradition can give it inner truth if it has none. 104
But Schleiermacher, in crossing Lessing's "ditch" between faith and
history, insisted on the unity of Jesus with his disciples. Religion was
for Schleiermacher an inner consciousness of God perfectly manifested
in Jesus of Nazareth, who redeemed persons by calling forth that con-
sciousness in them also. Schleiermacher did distinguish between Jesus
and his redemptive act (Urbildlichkeit) and later communication and
assimilation of that God-consciousness (Vorbildlichkeit), but he made
it quite clear that the disciples did not misunderstand or alter Jesus'
consciousness.
Significantly enough, Schleiermacher took the Jesus of the Fourth
Gospel and of Hebrews to construct his Urbild.^05 So although the per-
fect God-consciousness of Jesus aroused a similar consciousness in his
disciples, still, by distinguishing between Urbildlichkeit and Vorbildlich-

101. Schweitzer, Quest of the Historical Jesus, 2 0 - 2 1 ; A. C. Lundsteen, Hermann

Samuel Reimarus und die Anfdnge der Leben-Jesu Forschung (Copenhagen: Olsen, 1939);
C. H. Talbert, ed., Reimarus: Fragments (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970), 26.
102. Therefore Reimarus anticipated Weiss and Schweitzer. See Hermann Samuel
Reimarus, The Goal of Jesus and His Disciples, ed. G. W. Buchanan (Leiden: Brill, 1970), 1.
103. Reimarus, Goal of Jesus, part 1, 7; part 2, 53.
104. Gottfried Ephraim Lessing, Werke, ed. H. G. Gopfert (Munich: Hauser, 1973),
7:813.
105. Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith, trans. H. R. Mackintosh and J. S.
Stewart (Edinburgh: T. &c T. Clark, 1928), 377-80; Richard R. Niebuhr, Schleiermacher
on Christ and Religion (New York: Scribner's, 1964), 219-24.
76 Theories of Transformation

keit, between proclaimer and proclaimed, between Chronik (historical

chronicle, or Historie) and Geschichte (biography),106 and in placing
God-consciousness over against dogma as the essence of Christianity,
Schleiermacher made it possible for at least two things to occur. First,
the Ritschlians (Harnack, Hatch, and countless others) could speak of
an increasingly earlier shift from the essence of Christianity, the Fa-
therhood of God, 107 to sterile objective dogma. Furthermore, because
Jesus' relationship to God was a valid object of historical research, it
was possible to move behind the documents of the New Testament to
the historical Jesus himself. From this came not only the "liberal lives of
Jesus" that so aggravated Schweitzer,108 but eventually studies, such as
Wrede's, that questioned also the historicity of Jesus' consciousness.109
Second, Schleiermacher also set up the reaction of Strauss. David Fried-
rich Strauss, writing in the stream of German Rationalism, expanded
Lessing's thesis with considerable critical skill. He showed that most of
the Gospel stories, meaning primarily narrative material, were "historical
myths" (theology in the form of historical narrative) that were produced
as a matter of course by the early Christian community.
The nonmythical Jesus was not the historical Jesus sought by the
Ritschlians, but one on whom no theology could be based. A Christian
faith (rational, of course) would have to be constructed without being
historically based on the man from Nazareth. Strauss "destroyed" the
historical Jesus in order to set free the formation of rational faith in the
human soul: "If Schleiermacher claims a miracle for the origination of
his real Christ, we have an equal right to claim one for the origination
of the ideal of a Christ in the human soul." 110 Granting many interven-
ing distinctions, it is not difficult to see in Strauss's Jesus an antecedent
for the role of Jesus in Bultmann's New Testament theology, while post-
Bultmannians, with their "new quest," take up once more the argument
of Schleiermacher regarding the unity of Jesus and his disciples — except
this time that unity occurs in the words rather than the redemptive act
or narrative of his God-consciousness. Our final example of this quest
will be the Jesus Seminar.

106. Friedrich Schleiermacher, Life of Jesus, trans. S. Maclean Gilmour (Philadelphia:

Fortress, 1974), 1.
107. Adolf von Harnack, The Essence of Christianity, trans. T. B. Saunders (London:
Benn, 1958), 54-59.
108. Schweitzer, Quest of the Historical Jesus, 307.
109. William Wrede, The Messianic Secret, trans. J. C. G. Greig (London: Clarke, 1971),
6-7, 230.
110. David Friedrich Strauss, The Life of Jesus Critically Examined, trans. George Eliot
and Mary Hennell (London: Sonnenschein, 1898), 772. On how Strauss saw himself in this
debate see his entire concluding dissertation (pp. 757-84).
The Second Generation 77

In any case, the major theological transformation of the New Testa-

ment must have been the shift from "Jesus" to "Lord" 111 —whether or
not such a change builds on a sympathetic or mute Jesus. For sooner
or later either the philosophical divinization of Jesus or the church's
defensive response to Gnosticism destroyed the gospel of the earliest
Christians. 112
Strangely enough, little attention was given to the Hellenization of
God-consciousness itself. Because nineteenth-century Protestantism was
so concerned with the anthropological nature of religion or with commu-
nion with God, little study was made regarding changing understandings
of the nature of God. For the most part, though, these scholars saw
a change in Geology late in the second century.113 This Hellenization
of God, i.e., the cosmologizing of divine love, was perpetrated, from
Harnack's point of view, by Marcion's separation of the Old Testament
creator God from the New Testament redeemer God. 114 The church re-
sponded to Marcion with the canonization of both Testaments as well
as a metaphysically grounded doctrine of God. 115 By and large, trans-
formationists have not been interested in how the understanding of God
changed, so Harnack's observations have remained a side issue.

From Psychosomatic Unity to Hellenistic Dualism

Just as radical changes occurred in the understanding of Jesus (and God),
so also that positive view of humanity found in the Old Testament was
transformed into a negative, dualistic anthropology. This transforma-
tion gave rise to the asceticism of the early church. 116 Probably it was
the Ritschlian-Ludemann complex that first distinguished between Jew-
ish and Hellenistic understandings of odp^, 117 which, to the misfortune
of later Christianity, lay side by side in the letters of the apostle Paul. 118

111. Wilhelm Bousset, Kyrios Christos, trans. J. E. Steely (Nashville: Abingdon, 1970),
116-17.
112. Eduard Schweizer, Jesus, trans. David E. Green (London: SCM, 1971), 169-71;
R. Bultmann, "The Christological Confession of the World Council of Churches," in Essays
Philosophical and Theological, trans. J. C. G. Greig (London: SCM, 1955), 276-80.
113. J. K. Mozley, The Impassibility of God (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1926), 28.
114. Adolf von Harnack, Marcion: Das Evangelium vom fremden Gott (Leipzig:
Hinrichs, 1921), 246-47.
115. Harnack, History of Dogma, 2:202-6; James Mackinnon, From Christ to Con-
stantine (London: Longmans Green, 1936), 364, 366.
116. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, 2:207-8; see also Samuel Laeuchli,
The Language of Faith (Nashville: Abingdon, 1962), 153.
117. Hermann Ludemann, Biblical Christianity, trans. M. A. Canney (London: Owen,
1905), 8 0 - 8 1 .
118. At least H. J. Holtzmann, writing on the same subject, remarks that anything prior
to Liidemann would be out of date. See his Lehrbuch der neutestamentlichen Theologie
(Freiburg i.B.: Mohr, 1897), 2:10 n. 3.
78 Theories of Transformation

Ludemann claimed, for example, in an exegesis of Rom. 1-8, that in

chapters 1-4 odp^ was used by Paul in the Jewish sense of family and
human solidarity (4:1), while in chapters 7 and 8 it could be used as
the seat or locus of evil (8:3). 119 Ludemann further identified the c&pi;
&|iar/ciac, with the outer person (2 Cor. 4:16; cf. Rom. 7:22-25), thereby
making apparent a dualistic view of the human being (a soul entrapped
in a body) already in the teaching of Paul. 120 Holtzmann, who now has
placed Paul among the early Catholics (!), follows Ludemann in his Hel-
lenistic reading of flesh and spirit, and inner and outer person in Paul.121
Not all scholars agreed with this anthropological analysis,122 but never-
theless it became standard exegesis for those who found in Paul the
beginnings of Hellenistic Christianity.123
The idea of an anthropological transformation in the early church re-
ceived both confirmation and revision in 1955 from Oscar Cullmann's
Ingersoll Lectures on immortality.124 He insisted that a psychosomatic
view of humanity supporting a belief in death and resurrection could
not also support an anthropological dualism that led to immortality of
the soul. 125 The New Testament clearly maintained a doctrine of pyscho-
somatic resurrection throughout and so did the church, even through the
apologists (Justin Martyr, Dial. 80). t26

From Brotherhood to Hierarchy

The twin anchors of those arguing for the continuity of the "Catholic"
church 127 have been the appropriate development of doctrine and the
historical succession of the priesthood. Baur himself insisted on the con-
gruity of faith and organization as the church moved from autonomy to
heteronomy. Once the Ritschlian arguments took away any notion of an
interior development of Christianity, there was no need to yoke together

119. H. Ludemann, Die Anthropologic des Apostels Paulus (Kiel: Universitats Buch-
handlung, 1872), 198-217.
120. Ibid., 27-31, 48.
121. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 2:9-22.
122. W. David Stacey, The Pauline View of Man (London: Macmillan, 1956), 4 0 - 5 5 .
123. Wilfred L. Knox, St Paul and the Church of the Gentiles (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1939), 136-40.
124. Oscar Cullmann, Immortality of the Soul or Resurrection of the Dead? The Witness
of the New Testament (London: Epworth, 1958).
125. Ibid., 25
126. Ibid., 5 9 - 6 0 .
127. Though the arguments presented in this chapter tend to be a nineteenth- and
twentieth-century debate between Roman Catholic and Protestant scholars, it would be
a serious error to suppose that this is the actual dividing line. For example, arguments de-
fending the church organization here called Catholic could be found in almost any Anglican
or conservative Protestant study. Furthermore, almost any of the arguments here labeled
"non-Catholic" could be found proposed in studies written by Roman Catholics.
The Second Generation 79

"faith and order." Yet these two aspects of Christianity remained the
two primary loci of the debate. So nineteenth-century liberals attacked
not only the Hellenization of faith, but they also tried to document the
increased Hellenization of church life, though in contrast to Baur they
did not see any particular unity in the development, i.e., the elevation of
the bishop did not correspond inherently with the divinization of Jesus.
While the distinction between clergy and laity, as well as the threefold
ministry itself may be found even in the New Testament (1 Tim. 3-5), it
probably was Irenaeus who first articulated the doctrine of an ordained
succession of bishops reaching back to the apostles themselves, a succes-
sion that taught only what had been delivered to them. 128 Regardless of
whether such an assertion is demonstrable, liberal Protestants did claim
that it was Irenaeus who solidified the hierarchical principle of early Ca-
tholicism.129 The problem of a dominically ordained threefold ministry
was first stated, in defense of the episcopacy (!), by Richard Rothe in
1837. 130 He argued that "in t h e . . . so-called apostolic period (up to A.D.
70) there was no Christian church, but at first only isolated Christian
communities." 131 These communities were held together by the authority
of the apostles, who at death were replaced locally by apostolic delegates
(bishops) in each community.132 Ritschl shifted Rothe's argument for his
own purposes. He saw a development of two entirely different episcopal
systems. One was the Jewish Christian or Jerusalem organization, which
copied Jesus and the Twelve with an analogous bishop and twelve pres-
byters. The Jerusalem-style organization died out with the Bar Kochba
rebellion, although as a system it was transplanted to Alexandria. How-
ever, among the Gentile churches such a distinction between members
(laity) and leaders (clergy) was not to be found. The local churches were
administered by presbyters who acted as "presidents." It was only with
Irenaeus that the bishopric as an office was to be found. 133
Although Rothe and Ritschl broke the ice, it remained for British
scholars, struggling with definitions of ministry offered by the Oxford
movement, 134 to state the historical case for a postapostolic origin of the
threefold ministry. In 1868 J. B. Lightfoot included in his commentary

128. See the famous passage in Haer. 3.3.

129. Heinrich Ziegler, Irenaeus der Bischof von Lyon: Ein Beitrag zur Entstehungs-
geschichte der altkatholischen Kircbe (Berlin: Reimer, 1871), 143-47.
130. R. Rothe, Die Anfdnge der Christlichen Kircbe und ihrer Verfassung (Wittenberg:
Zimmermann, 1837), 1:141-310.
131. Ibid., 310.
132. Ibid., 309.
133. Ritschl, Entstehung der altkatholischen Kirche, 4 3 4 - 4 1 .
134. See the summary in A. T. Hanson's introduction to R. C. Moberly's Ministerial
Priesthood (reprint, London: SPCK, 1969), vii-xi.
80 Theories of Transformation

on Philippians a pioneering essay, "The'Christian Ministry." 135 Though

obviously dependent on his two predecessors,136 he argued in quite a
different way that the first church had no priesthood, or perhaps, all
were priests. Administrative functions were gifts of the spirit — both the
permanent (bishop, presbyter and deacon) and the temporary (apostle,
prophet, and evangelist). The development of ecclesiastical organization
was simply the emergence of a permanent ministry "as the Church as-
sumed a more settled form and the higher but temporary offices, such as
the apostolate, fell away." 137 As for the permanent offices, the diaconate
was created de novo, the presbytery was borrowed from contemporary
Judaism, while the episcopate developed later from the presbytery when
the church was under attack and dissensions were widespread. 138
Continuing in the same debate, the British scholar Edwin Hatch de-
livered in 1880 his famous Bampton lectures, "The Organization of the
Early Christian Churches." He argued that even the presbytery, i.e., rule
by senior heads of member families, was common to many cultures.
Consequently its use among Hellenistic church circles could be due to
Greco-Roman patterns rather than Jewish. The development of the epis-
copal office was simply the gradual supremacy of a "president" of the
presbytery — a style not different from other Hellenistic associations. 139
Harnack was so impressed by this argument that he translated it for
the German-speaking audience in 1883. 140 The publication of the newly
discovered Didache that same year gave him just the proof he needed
for Hatch's thesis. In his study of that document Harnack found the de-
cay— by death or loss of significance — of the universal leadership of the
church (apostles, prophets, and teachers) accompanied by the takeover of
their organizational functions (spiritual, patriarchal, and administrative)
by coequal local leaders (bishops, presbyters, and deacons). 141 A fourth
order of leadership, the aristocratic, came into being when the previously
collegial bishop took over all three functions.142

135. J. B. Lightfoot, St Paul's Epistle to the Philippians (London: Macmillan, 1868),

179-267.
136. Ibid., 185 n. 1.
137. Ibid., 184.
138. Ibid., 194.
139. Edwin Hatch, The Organization of the Early Christian Churches (London: Riving-
tons, 1888), 62-66, 84-85.
140. Edwin Hatch, Die Gesellschaftsverfassung der christlichen Kirchen im Altertum,
trans. Adolf von Harnack (Giessen: Ricker, 1883).
141. 141. Adolf von Harnack, Die Lehre der Zwolf Apostel (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1884),
145-46.
142. Ibid., 153-55. Regarding the influence of the Didache on Harnack see especially
Olaf Linton, Das Problem der Urkirche in der neueren Forschung, Uppsala Universitets
Arsskrift, Teologi 2 (Leipzig: A. Lorentz, 1932), 31-48
The Second Generation 81

The Hatch-Harnack thesis was so widely accepted by New Testament

scholars that Olaf Linton could speak of it as a consensus. 143 Of course
the consensus had its able opponents, 144 but as a matter of fact the fu-
ture belonged to an even more radical train of thought, rather than the
conservative. For Rudolf Sohm's debate with Harnack served not only to
sharpen the issues, but also to change the nature of the issue. Sohm ar-
gued that the earliest church was a charismatic entity that corresponded
to any meeting of two or three gathering in Jesus' name. 145 That commu-
nity had no inherently correct structure, no priesthood, no fixed body of
doctrine, and above all, no church law.146 The church assembled primar-
ily for the purpose of celebrating the Eucharist. 147 At this house church
meeting it was necessary for someone to preside and for other elected
representatives to assist. Here, then, is the origin of the bishop and el-
ders. However, such an organization arose from the community itself as
directed by the Spirit.148 Even in Acts and the Pastoral Epistles the pres-
ence of bishops and elders only reflects this flexible charismatic leadership
that developed around the Eucharist.149 It was when the offices (especially
that of the bishop) became inflexible and "successive" that the essence of
Christianity was lost and Catholicism began. The essence of Catholicism
is that it cannot distinguish between the church in a religious sense and
the church in its legal sense.150
For, as goes the famous dictum of Sohm, "Das Kirchenrecht steht mit
dem Wesen der Kirche in Widerspruch." 151 The fatal change occurred
with Clement of Rome who, in response to a Corinthian attempt to
change its presbyter, insisted that apostolic ordination should determine
legitimate leadership (1 Clem. 44:2). 152 It was Ignatius then who insisted
that no meeting of the community could be held without the bishop (Ign.

143. Linton, Problem der Urkirche, 29.

144. For example, R. C. Moberly, Ministerial Priesthood (London: Murray, 1897);
Charles Gore, The Church and the Ministry (London: Rivingtons, 1882).
145. Rudolph Sohm, Outlines of Church History, trans. M. Sinclair (London: Mac-
millan, 1895), 32; Kirchenrecht (Leipzig: Duncker &C Humboldt, 1892), 1:20.
146. Sohm, Outlines of Church History, 32; Kirchenrecht, 1:22-38.
147. Sohm, Outlines of Church History, 36; Kirchenrecht, 1:67-68. In his debate with
Harnack, Sohm did agree that the congregation also met around the Word, but this
meeting was not "led." It was a spiritual "free-for-all" (cf. 1 Cor. 14:26) or "pneuma-
tische Anarchic" See Sohm's Wesen und Ursprung des Katholizismus, Abhandlungen der
philologisch-historischen Klasse der koniglich sachsischen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaft,
Bd. 27 (Leipzig: Teubner, 1909), 384.
148. Sohm, Kirchenrecht, 1:68, 84; Wesen und Ursprung, 377.
149. Sohm, Kirchenrecht, 1:69.
150. Sohm, Wesen und Ursprung, 345.
151. Sohm, Kirchenrecht, 1:1.
152. Ibid., 69.
82 Theories of Transformation

Magn. 4; Ign. Trail. 7). 153 At this point "nicht die Gemeinde hat den
Episkopat, sondern der Episkopat hat die Gemeinde hervorgebracht." 154
At first glance it would appear Sohm only carried the Harnack-Hatch
argument to its logical conclusion. But far more is involved. For Sohm
the rise of Catholicism is not due to Hellenistic intellectualizing and mor-
alizing, but the shift from a charismatic community to a legal community
based on divine law.155 For Sohm the development of church organiza-
tion was no longer a concomitant aspect of rising dogmatic speculation
(Baur, Ritschl, Harnack, and Hatch), but an institutionalization of the
worship structure. In this sense Sohm was not just a radical Harnackian
but the first of another breed, the Religionsgeschichte school that saw
the transformation of early Christianity primarily in terms of changes in
the confessional and liturgical life.

From Charisma to Cultic Society

It would be foolhardy to categorize under this rubric all those who per-
ceive the fall of early Christianity as the loss of the Spirit. While that
would be the trademark of the Sohm position, one cannot easily dis-
tinguish between his original community and Harnack's universal or
"spiritual" ministry.156 A list of those who see the loss of the Spirit as
the basic transformation of early Christianity would include nearly every
New Testament scholar in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Gunkel
ended his work on the Holy Spirit with precisely that conclusion.157 Early
Catholicism has substituted the office for the Spirit. In the worship of the
early church, says Alexander Macdonald, at first the Spirit was manifest,
but the fatal flaw came with the "waning" of the "first Enthusiasm." 158
In more recent times Eduard Schweizer can say that the development of
an official church, or, conversely, special groups of ecstatics would be
a sign that the Gemeinde "therefore could no longer suppose that the
Spirit had been given to all its members." 159 Or Campenhausen can con-
clude that Paul based all on the Spirit with no authority figures. So the

153. Ibid., 193-94.

154. Ibid., 195.
155. Sohm, Wesen und Ursprung, 338.
156. A. von Harnack, The Mission and Expansion of Christianity, trans. James Moffatt
(New York: Harper, 1962), 341.
157. Hermann Gunkel, Die Wirkungen des heiligen Geistes (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck &:
Ruprecht, 1888), 110.
158. Alexander B. Macdonald, Christian Worship in the Primitive Church (Edinburgh:
T. & T. Clark, 1934), 68. Macdonald likely owed his structure to Ernest F. Scott's study
The Spirit in the New Testament (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1923), 2 4 4 - 4 5 .
159. Eduard Schweizer, Geist und Gemeinde im Neuen Testament und Heute, Theolo-
gisch Existenz Heute, N.F. 32 (Munich: Kaiser Verlag, 1952), 27.
The Second Generation 83

first Christian elders were "obedient to the Spirit," even in 1 Clement,

but in Ignatius and the Pastorals we begin to see office for the sake
of office.160 All in all, such opinions do not differ radically from previ-
ous categories of nineteenth-century German theology. Christianity was
transformed from a voluntary autonomous expression to a religion of
authority and heteronomy. In this way Protestantism and Catholicism
can be distinguished.161
Whether Sohm consciously broke from his predecessors cannot be eas-
ily determined. Certainly he realized his argument was different in kind
from that of Harnack. 162 In any case the religionsgeschichtlich percep-
tion of early Christian transformation differed from the Ritschlian. In
religionsgeschichtlich analysis the arena of concern no longer was dogma,
church organization or ethics, but the nature of the Christian cult and the
function of its cultic center—Jesus the Lord. Perhaps Wilhelm Bousset
best presented the new thesis. For him the church was not gradually Hel-
lenized. From its inception it had been Hellenistic. The greatest historical
moment of the church was its nearly immediate shift to that Hellenistic
Christian community from which came Paul and the most of what we
know as early Christianity.163 That primitive Hellenistic community, like
other Hellenistic communities of the East, organized itself as a close fel-
lowship around its cultic Lord. 164 Paul came from such a community, and
his writings reflect a corporate mysticism with Jesus (Christ as Lord). 165
It was the cultic Lord or Spirit who guided the community and gave the
members gifts of the Spirit (charisma).166 At the center was the sacramen-
tal identification with the Lord by dying and rising with him. In time this
primitive community developed into a cultic society, a mystery religion,
in which the Lord no longer reigned, but the community dispensed its
gifts through the sacraments (Ignatius).167 This was the second great mo-
ment of the church — the shift to Catholicism. Now, for the first time,
the Christian community was open to intellectual dogmatization (the
Apologists) and authoritative leadership.

160. Hans von Campenhausen, Ecclesiastical Authority and Spiritual Power in the
Church of the First Three Centuries, trans. J. A. Baker (London: Black, 1969), 79-80,
84, 97-123
161. Auguste Sabatier, The Religions of Authority and the Religions of the Spirit, trans.
Louise Seymour Houghton (London: Williams and Norgate, 1904), xxiv. For his relation-
ship to Schleiermacher see Thomas Sillistone, Religion, Symbolism and Meaning (Oxford:
Cassirer, 1968), 17.
162. Sohm, Wesen und Ursprung, 338.
163. Bousset, Kyrios Christos, 12.
164. Ibid., 146.
165. Ibid., 167
166. Ibid., 160-72.
167. Ibid., 83.
84 Theories of Transformation

Increasingly scholarship has moved from a formal to an experiential

understanding of early Christianity. That is, Sohm and Bousset would
argue that the earliest Christians experienced a Lordship of Christ and
a fellowship with its concomitant spiritual gifts (charisma) that the
second-century Christians did not enjoy. From this perspective came the
sociological analyses of the early church. For example, Ernst Troeltsch
described early Christianity as a cult formed around the Pneuma-Christ,
which consisted of two sacraments: baptism and the Eucharist. For var-
ious reasons — growth of hysterical enthusiasm, syncretism, lack of a
secure sociological point of reference — there arose a sacerdotal and
sacramental society that we call early Catholicism.168 However, the orig-
inal impulse was not lost. It appeared again and again in the medieval
monastic movement and later in the sect-type church. 169 And as for Sohm
and Bousset, few have accepted their picture of early Christianity, yet the
power of their thesis continues in various guises. T. F. Torrance, arguing
from a theological survey of the period, shows that grace, which lies at
the heart of the work of Christ, became, starting with Ignatius, a depos-
itory of the church, dispensed in the form of sacraments. 170 Or Vincent
Taylor can argue that in Hebrews the eucharistic sacrifice of Jesus lost
its meaning when separated from the mystical suffering with Christ as
found in Paul. 171 Though differently stated by a variety of authors, the
net result would be the same: the church lost its original nature when it
lost its charisma. 172

From Gospel to Law

In categorizing transformationist theories under these four rubrics — in-
cursion of heresy, failure of eschatology, increasing complexity, and loss
of charisma — we have touched the major historical perspectives. Never-
theless, there are variations on these themes that are worthy of mention
even though they ought not be understood as yet another category. For
example, Reformation scholars in general and Lutherans in particular
speak axiomatically of the transformation of the Pauline gospel to an
early Catholic law. It would be futile to attempt to trace the history

168. Ernst Troeltsch, The Social Teaching of the Christian Church, trans. Olive Wyon
(New York: Macmillan, 1931), 89-92.
169. Ibid., 161-64.
170. T. F. Torrance, The Doctrine of Grace in the Apostolic Fathers (London: Oliver and
Boyd, 1948), 141.
171. Vincent Taylor, The Atonement in New Testament Teaching (London: Epworth,
1940), 187.
172. E. Kasemann, "Geist und Geistesgaben im NT," in Die Religion in Geschichte
und Gegenwart: Handworterbuch fur Theologie und Religionswissenschaft, 7 vols., 3d
ed. (Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1957-65), 2:1271-79.
The Second Generation 85

of this "transformation" theory, and it would be repetitive. The very

first Protestant scientific historian of the New Testament, F. C. Baur, uti-
lized the distinction even though his use of law and gospel fit better in
Hegelian categories than the New Testament.173 But whether gospel was
understood as the coming of the Lord, the Spirit, freedom, the Abso-
lute, redemption, simple faith, charisma, or whatever, it was the gospel
that was lost and the law that prevailed. Whatever law may be, it will
be important for our study to note from whence comes the law. For ex-
ample, some scholars consider the early Christian faith a unique point
in history, when people rose above their normal way of life. So Sohm
considers the rise of early Catholicism as the return to "natural man."
"The natural person is a born Catholic." 174 Others might agree for vari-
ous reasons. Dibelius supposed that even Paul introduced law and ethics
because his eschatological teachings were too impractical for the aver-
age person. 175 Goppelt, representing a more classic Protestant position,
is not so kind. For him there were two ways in which second-century
Christians adapted to their historical existence.
The first was to stress the proclamation of the Word concretized in the
sacrament. This part came from the New Testament. The second was to
relax the discipline of the church by means of a system of penance. This
part came from the Apostolic Fathers. "The early Catholic alignment
originated with the Apostolic Fathers because the apostolic traditions
were watered down during the post-apostolic age and were enervated by
Hellenistic and Jewish influences."176
In sharp contrast others see the new law as a heightening of the "im-
perative" at the expense of the "indicative." 177 For Bultmann this means
primarily an emphasis on sanctification and renunciation of the world, as
far even as encrateia and asceticism (Shepherd of Hermas),17S though he
admits that some tendencies led to the adoption of ethical demands fa-
miliar and available to all (Pastoral Epistles).179 But the latter observation
seems to have been overlooked by others. Eva Aleith carried the thesis
to an extreme by claiming that the Pauline gospel was replaced almost

173. Baur, Church History of the First Three Centuries, 82-83. See also the Tubingen
historian Albert Schwegler, Das nachapostolische Zeitalter (Tubingen: Fues, 1846), 3 4 - 3 5 .
174. Sohm, Outlines of Church History, 35.
175. Martin Dibelius, A Fresh Approach to the New Testament and Early Christian
Literature (New York: Scribner's, 1936), 142-50, 2 1 9 - 2 1 .
176. Leonhard Goppelt, "The Existence of the Church in History According to Apos-
tolic and Early Catholic Thought," in Current Issues in New Testament Interpretation, ed.
W. Klassen and G. F. Snyder (New York: Harper &c Brothers, 1962), 204, 207.
177. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, 2:201-18.
178. Ibid., 220-24.
179. Ibid., 225.
86 Theories of Transformation

immediately by a Catholic works-righteousness. 180 And with Hellenis-

tic dualism came a hatred or fear of the flesh that led inevitably to its
denial.181

From Wisdom Teaching to Apocalypticism

Since its inception in 1985 another approach to the issue of cultural trans-
formation has received considerable attention, especially in the United
States. The Westar Institute and its best-known program, the Jesus Sem-
inar, has added considerable interest to the issue of acculturation. The
Seminar, which consists of well-known New Testament scholars meeting
twice a year, has discussed thoroughly each passage of the Synoptic Gos-
pels. At the end of the discussion they vote on issues of authenticity.182
The results of the Jesus study were published in 1993 under the title
The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus?83 The
stated objective of the Westar Institute is to increase religious literacy.
Consequently much of the work of the Jesus Seminar has attracted the
attention of the media and popular discussion. The scholarly thesis, how-
ever, pushes the debate of assimilation to its utmost limit. Funk, speaking
for the Seminar, believes that Jesus is the legitimate center of the Chris-
tian faith; the Gospels contain that Jesus; the real Jesus can be recovered
by serious scholarly pursuit; and recovery of the real Jesus can enable us
to approach the kingdom of God. 184 The confidence of the Seminar lies
in continuing investigation of the sayings of Jesus as found in Q, and in
the discovery of a full text of the Gospel of Thomas?85 Burton Mack,
Seminar member, has proposed a method for combining the Matthean
Q and the Lukan Q. His result is one document that he calls the "lost"
or "first Gospel." 186 Seminar members find in the Gospel of Thomas a
very early confirmation of the Q reconstruction. This belief reinforces
their method: authenticity can be found when material is found neither
in Judaism nor later Christianity, and when there is multiple attestation

180. Eva Aleith, Paulusverstandnis in der alten Kirche (Berlin: Topelmann, 1937), 3.
181. Laeuchli, Language of Faith, 156. See also Georg Kretschmar, "Ein Beitrag zur
Frage nach dem Ursprung friihchristlicher Askese," ZTK 61 (1964): 29.
182. See Robert W. Funk, Honest to Jesus: Jesus for a New Millennium (San Francisco:
HarperSanFrancisco, 1996), 8.
183. Robert W. Funk, Roy Hoover, and The Jesus Seminar, The Five Gospels: The Search
for the Authentic Words of Jesus (New York: Macmillan, 1993).
184. Funk, Honest to Jesus, 10-11
185. Davies, Gospel of Thomas; Edwards, Theology of Q; Kloppenborg, Formation
ofQ.
186. Burton Mack, The Lost Gospel: The Book of Q and Christian Origins (San
Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993).
The Second Generation 87

at early chronological levels.187 This original gospel of Jesus 188 later was
contaminated by the culture of Jewish radical eschatology (or apoca-
lypticism). The impact of radical eschatology has irreparably altered the
Synoptic Gospels and Christianity as we know it.189 In 1998 the intended
work of the Jesus Seminar was completed and made public.

Summary
When all the theories of "continuity" and "transformation" are seen vis
a vis each other, any reliable historical reconstruction of the period seems
impossible. Competent scholars have adduced the same data to pro-
duce widely divergent interpretations. Nevertheless, from this survey of
opinions and interpretations, we could offer some minimal conclusions:
1. Some changes did occur in early Christianity. The issue is whether
these changes are true or alien to the earliest faith.
2. The problem of change has concentrated on the dual foci of dogma
and organization. Only to a much lesser extent have liturgy and
ethics played a role in the debate.
3. To a large extent Protestants have found the transformation oc-
curring outside the boundaries of the New Testament. Even today
we can find those who are reluctant to find early Catholicism in the
New Testament (Goppelt, for example). At the same time it must be
noted there were from the very beginning those who saw elements
of early Catholicism in the canon itself (Baur, Bousset, Schweitzer,
and Bultmann, for example).
4. Despite the divergent theories of transformation, the causative fac-
tors for such transformations can be reduced to a few basic ones.
The major internal factors are "the delay of the parousia" and
the "loss of charisma or spirit." External factors have been the
"influence of Judaism" and the "assimilation of Hellenism."

187. Crossan, The Historical Jesus, 427-50.

188. For Crossan's version see The Historical Jesus, xiii-xxvi.
189. Marcus Borg, "Jesus —A Sketch," The Fourth R 7 (1994), 10-15.
 t M fcs / \
ki
/ *^*

A 'Tr. /*

»««
P/# te 1. Jewish Inscription, Titulus, Vatican Museum

Plate 2.
Anchor and Fish, Titulus,
Priscilla Catacomb, Rome
 % t

Vf
4.'

**" %W,^^
... f* ?
*
J»>

Plate 3. Boat with Name Paulus, Sarcophagus,

Museo del Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome

Plate 4.
Orante, Sarcophagus,
Santa Maria Antiqua,
Rome
 Plate 5.
Bread and Cup,
Sarcophagus,
Rome

^ J- \

t « \

< < ' • • ' !

--^

>. : ^ '^i±iiL_ , lji

P/<zte 6. Bread and Fish, Fresco, St. Callixtus Catacomb, Rome
 Plate 7.
Good Shepherd, Sarcophagus,
L'eglise Sainte Quitter ie du Mas,
Aire-sur-VArdour, France

Plate 8.
Torah Niche,
Dura-Europos Synagogue,
Damascus, Syria
 Plate 9. Daniel and the Lions, Sarcophagus, Aries, France

'. / \
'X
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!
ft
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\ ' IK

^s
__J- * — - ^y-N"

Plate 10. Three Young Men in the Fiery Furnace,

Fresco, Priscilla Catacomb, Rome
Plate 11. Susanna and the Elders, Fresco, Priscilla Catacomb, Rome

Plate 12. Noah in the Ark, Sarcophagus, Aries, France

Plate 13. Baptism of Jesus, Fisherman, Fresco,
St. Callixtus Catacomb, Rome

Plate 14.
Baptism of Jesus,
Sarcophagus,
Santa Maria Antiqua,
Rome
 • \ v '•- - v .

Plate IS. Jonah Cycle, Sarcophagus, Vatican Museum

Plate 16.
Moses Striking
the Rock,
Sarcophagus,
Aries, France
Plate 17. Healing of the Paralytic, Sarcophagus,
Ueglise Sainte Quitterie du Mas, Aire-sur-VAdour,
Prance

''/'

Plate 18.
Healing the Blind, Sarcophagus,
Ueglise Sainte Quitterie du Mas,
Aire-sur-VAdour, France
Plate 19. Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes,
Wooden Door, Sta. Sabina, Rome

Plate 20. The Resurrection of Lazarus,

Sarcophagus, L'eglise Sainte Quitterie du Mas,
Aire-sur-VArdour, France
Plate 21. Christian Inscription, Titulus, Catacomb, Rome

Plate 22. Christ Helios, Mosaic,

St. Peter's Excavations, The Vatican
 Plate 23.
Ascension of Elijah,
Wooden Door,
Sta. Sabina, Rome

V 'v > V - * • '•

Plate 24.
Manger Scene,
Sarcophagus,
Aries, France
Plate 25. Fractio panis, Fresco, Priscilla Catacomb, Rome

Plate 26. Agape Meal, Fresco,

St. Peter and St. Marcellinus Catacomb, Rome
Plate 27. Agape Meal, Fresco,
St. Peter and St. Marcellinus Catacomb, Rome

Plate 28. Agape Meal, Fresco,

St. Peter and St. Marcellinus Catacomb, Rome
 Chapter 6

Symbols

The impact of the Judeo-Christian worldview, as expressed by the Jesus

tradition, changed the nature of the Greco-Roman world. Although
Christian theologians and historians have been deeply interested in this
encounter of the Jesus tradition with the Greco-Roman world, for the
most part, as we have seen, they have concerned themselves with the
demise of the original Jesus-Paul-John faith rather than with the extent
to which that tradition altered and utilized the Greco-Roman world.
Without necessarily depreciating the importance of studying a culture's
metaphysical worldview, we might better understand the changes of the
second and third centuries if we also ask how the impact of the Jesus
tradition affected some selected social-cultural components of the Greco-
Roman world.

Jewish Symbols
According to Jacob Neusner's study of Jewish discourse in iconic form,
the four major Jewish symbols found in early synagogues are the meno-
rah, etrog, lulab, and shofar.1 Granted the mathematical limitations of
a small sample, a chart of extant Jewish symbols used will be helpful in
assessing the symbolic interaction.
In the second and third centuries, twenty-eight sites have been identi-
fied. In these we find the distribution of symbols as shown in table 6.1
on the following page. While the menorah clearly appears as a definitive
mark of a pre-Constantinian Jewish synagogue, other symbols are not so
obvious. That is, symbols such as the amphora, birds, the cross, an eagle,
genii, lions, rosettes, shells, wreaths, and others are just as prevalent as
patently Jewish symbols such as the etrog, lulab, and shofar. Neusner
does not include the Torah shrine in his Jewish foursome, though in this
list it is the only other definitively Jewish symbol. Under the historical
criterion of dissimilarity (not used in the non-Jewish world), there are

1. Jacob Neusner, Symbol and Theology in Early Judaism (Minneapolis: Fortress,

1991). The archaeological tables, based on the remains of early synagogues, were prepared
by Andrew G. Vaughn and revised by James F. Strange.

91
92 Trajectories of Inculturation

Table 6.1. Distribution of Jewish Symbols in Synagogue Sites

Symbol Sites Instances Symbol Sites Instan

Amphora 2 3 Lulab 3 3
Birds 4 7 Meanders 1 1
Cross 3 3 Menorah 13 26
Crown 1 1 Oil jug 1 1
Eagle 7 7 Plant motifs 3 3
Etrog 5 6 Rosette 7 7
Flowers 2 2 Shell 4 4
Genii 3 4 Shofar 5 5
Geometric 1 1 Swastika 1 1
Grapevine 3 3 Torah shrine 3 4
Hercules knot 2 2 Torus 1 1
Incense shovel 2 2 Vine 8 8
Leavers 3 3 Wheel 2 2
Lions 3 4 Wreath 5 5

indeed five Jewish symbols in this list: etrog, lulab, shofar, menorah, and
Torah shrine (plate 8). In their synagogues Jews of the first centuries in
the Christian era were quite willing to use a large number of Greco-
Roman decorations and symbols. Some scholars, like Goodenough, see
in such symbols signals of a more mystical Judaism. 2 Others assume that
Jewish leaders had no choice but to use ateliers who offered, as a matter
of course, pagan decorations and symbols. Or, in terms of interaction,
Jews were willing to utilize the decorations and symbols of their non-
Jewish neighbors. 3 By so doing they indicated their active participation
in the Greco-Roman culture. But none of these symbols became a part
of the Jewish iconic conversation. In that sense, by the first two centuries
of the Christian era Judaism had developed a firm symbolic identity. It
could accept and utilize pagan symbolic material, but did not incorpo-
rate it. Likewise, Judaism of that time did not contribute any symbols to
the Roman world, nor, as far as we can determine, did it infuse Roman
symbols with a Jewish meaning.
On their funerary tituli, where only a bare minimum of iconic con-
versation was possible, the Jews of Rome utilized their primary identity
symbols: menorah, shofar, etrog, and lulab (plates 1, 8).4 It could be that

2. Erwin R. Goodenough. Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period, 12 vols. (New

York: Pantheon, 1953-65); see vols. 2, 3, 4.
3. Leonard V. Rutgers, "Archaeological Evidence for the Interaction of Jews and Non-
Jews in Late Antiquity," American Journal of Archaeology 96 (1992): 101-18; The Jews in
Late Ancient Rome: Evidence of Cultural Interaction in the Roman Diaspora (New York:
Brill, 1995).
4. Good examples can be found in Adia Konikoff, Sarcophagi from the Jewish
Catacombs of Ancient Rome (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1986), plates 11, 12.
Symbols 93

the flask (amphora or vase?) also serves as a Jewish ceremonial symbol,

but such items are too common to make a firm identification. Leon lists
534 Jewish inscriptions from Rome. Of these, 144 show the menorah, 34
the lulab, 27 the etrog, 27 a flask, 14 the shofar, and 6 (all from Monte-
verde) show the Torah shrine. Other items such as birds and branches
are very occasional.

Early Christian Symbols

In sharp contrast to the Jewish symbolic interaction, the earliest Chris-

tian communities came to Rome with no firm identifying symbols. Their
earliest examples were taken, albeit with varying degrees of popularity,
from the Roman culture. 5 As in any culture the first symbols not only
identify the developing faith, but serve as an artistic resolution for what
otherwise are significant conflicts or tensions for the community. Symbols
are to be read in terms of such temporal conflicts rather than necessarily
as dogmatic theological signs.

Prophetic Symbols
The Jesus tradition that relativizes the dominant culture can be found in
the numerous symbols, several involving water.

The Anchor
As a simple symbol the anchor appeared frequently on catacomb tituli
(marble grave markers) of the third century (plate 2). By the fourth cen-
tury it had almost totally disappeared. In the Greco-Roman world the
anchor had no significant prior use as a religious symbol. Since any sig-
nificance in Hellenistic culture was lacking, it has been suggested that
the anchor represents a hidden cross, a disguise no longer needed when
Christianity went public. However in third-century popular Christianity
there were few, if any, symbols of efficacious suffering and dying. As a
popular symbol the cross was not hidden; it simply was not utilized. As
a Christian metaphor the anchor occurs only once in the New Testament
(Heb. 6:19, as a symbol of hope). Since early Christian symbols or scenes
seldom reflect any biblical meaning, there is no reason to assign the sense
of hope to the anchor. Along with the other nautical symbols mentioned
by Clement, the anchor reflects Christian conflict with the environment
(implied by water). In the faith community the believer finds security.

5. Patrick Bruun, "Symboles, Signes et Monogrammes," in Sylloge inscriptionum

christianarum veterum musei vaticani, ed. Henrik Zilliacus, Acta instituti romani finlandiae
1, no. 2 (Helsinki: Tilqmann, 1963), 73-166.
94 Trajectories of Inculturation

Once that conflict subsided (fourth century), the anchor fell into disuse
as a symbol.

The Boat

Like the anchor, the boat expresses security in an alien environment; but
unlike the anchor, it had a prior history. In some ancient religions the boat
bore the dead to the netherworld, while in the Bible boats normally of-
fered protection from threatening waters, e.g., the ark (Gen 6:19), Jonah's
boat (Jon. 1:4), and the stilling of the storm (Mark 6:45-52). The boat
of the first two centuries signified a community "floating" on the culture
of the Greco-Roman world (plate 3). The highly favored Jonah story por-
trays the Christian, as the Orante (see below), cast into the alien culture
and surviving (plate 15). The boats of early Christianity are not yet the
salvific church of the fourth century (Cyprian, Unit. eccl. 6 [e.g., the ark
at Monreale]).

The Fish
Though one of the most frequently used symbols of the early church, the
fish nevertheless defies accurate analysis. Like the other nautical symbols,
the fish signifies life in a conflictive cultural situation (plate 2). Sometimes
the fish is found with another nautical symbol, the anchor. One famous
stele, that of Licinia (Museo Nazionale, Rome), contains a fish on each
side of an anchor. An inscription reads "fish of the living" (IX0YS ZQN-
TQN). Some suppose that this inscription, and the fish itself, refers to the
use of Greek i%9\)<; ("fish") as an acrostic meaning "Jesus Christ, God's
Son, Savior." While no other symbols bear such a dogmatic meaning, and
many uses of the fish symbol cannot refer to the Jesus acrostic, still, the
identification of the fish with Jesus cannot be denied. Tertullian wrote,
"But we little fish, according to our ichthun Jesus Christ, are born in the
water, nor were we saved in any other manner than by remaining in the
water" {Bapt. 1).
While Tertullian knew the social context of the fish (the newly bap-
tized Christian remains in the culture/water), he also knew the acrostic
reference of "fish" to Jesus. Apart from the acrostic, Jesus can be iden-
tified with the fish of the agape meal. Every known representation of
the agape meal prior to Constantine shows fish, bread, and wine. While
the meal may be based on the New Testament eucharistic passage of the
feeding of the five thousand (Mark 6:30-44), other inscriptional material
identifies the fish meal with "the Fish from the Fountain, the very great,
the pure, which the holy virgin seized" (Epitaph of Abercius). Fourth-
century literary material can speak of the Eucharist as the Christ feeding
the people with five loaves and two fishes, and of Christ himself being
Symbols 95

that bread and that fish (Paulinus of Nola, Epist. 13,11). The fish symbol
then refers both to the social implication of entering the faith community
(baptism into a community of security) and to a major means of main-
taining membership in that community (the fish of the Eucharist and/or
Agape). By the end of the third century this powerful symbol had also
started to take on the literary, dogmatic nature of the famous acrostic.

The Olive Branch

Although the olive branch does not relate primarily to water and has no
significant prior use as a Greco-Roman symbol, it should be considered a
piece of the prophetic conversation. As a symbol the olive branch occurs
primarily with the dove (plate 21), though sometimes alone. In pictorial
representations, however, it is found almost always in boat scenes — nor-
mally with Noah and the ark, sometimes with Jonah. Occasionally it is
found in the beak of a dove, as with the three young men in the fiery
furnace. Its consistent placement makes fairly certain its symbolic iden-
tification with pax — the peace of the community in the face of conflict,
as well as the peace of the refrigerium (meal with extended family and
special religious dead). It did not continue as a significant symbol after
the "peace of Constantine."

The Dove
This symbol has a rich and extensive history. In other cultures it can
refer to fertility, sexuality, love, and religious sentiments. In early Chris-
tianity the dove, as a symbol, appears often with the olive branch, a
symbol of security in the face of cultural conflict, and frequently with the
inscription, IN PACE (see table 6.2).6

Table 6.2
without with
IN PACE IN PACE
Dove alone 45 37
Dove with olive branch or tree 21 30
Dove with Christogram 17 24
Dove with other symbols 16 15

Prior to Constantine (and the Christogram: }£) the early Christians

used the dove to signify that peace and satisfaction which derived from
faith and participation in the faith community (plates 10, 12, 21). At the
same time, the dove and its counterpart, the Orante (see below), occurred

6. Ibid., 87.
96 Trajectories of Inculturation

often in biblical scenes of conflict with the dominant culture. In the use
of the dove symbol the non-Christian could see that redefinition infused
by the prophetic Jesus tradition. After the "peace of Constantine," when
social conflict had lessened, the dove referred more to peace of the soul
(Ravenna), while the Orante eventually disappeared altogether.

The Orante
One of the two human symbols consists of a woman with upraised hands
(plate 4). Her head is nearly always covered with a veil and a tunic of the
third century (orans tunicata et velata). She exists as a separate figure,
but, more important, through the fourth century she is the main figure
of nearly every biblical scene, both fresco and sculpture. She is Noah in
the ark, Jonah in the boat, Jonah spewed out of the sea monster, Daniel
between the lions, Susanna with the elders, the three young men in the
fiery furnace, and sometimes Lazarus. She is the most important symbol
in early Christian art. The Orante has a long history in the Greco-Roman
social matrix. Since there seems to be no major significance assigned to
the biblical contexts in which the Orante is placed, it must be assumed
that the Orante has kept something of its traditional meaning, now trans-
ferred to a Christian pictorial backdrop. From examples of the Orante
in public art (coins) and sepulchral art, it seems to have been associated
mainly with familial piety. Given the biblical contexts used by the artists,
the scenes must indicate a community (familial) victory in the midst of
various social conflicts. Once the conflicts diminished during the reign of
Constantine, the Orante essentially disappeared from Christian art.

Community Formation
In the first symbols of the early Christians there are no iconic represen-
tations for either the teaching or the healing tradition. Apart from the
cultural conflict, the primary symbols reflect community formation either
through eating together and/or inclusive acceptance.

The Bread
The symbol of bread refers primarily to the agape meal (plate 5). It al-
ways appears in table scenes with fish and wine (note the well-known
combination symbol from the crypt of Lucina in St. Callixtus, Rome
[plate 6]). Normally the artist portrayed bread as a small round object,
often placed in a basket. In the eucharistic meal scenes there are five or
seven such baskets (see Mark 6:30-44; 8:1-10). Such loaves or baskets
of bread can be found in the symbol systems of many religions.7 For most

7. Goodenough, Jewish Symbols, 5:62-95.

Symbols 97

unofficial religions of the Mediterranean area, bread symbolized the fel-

lowship of a religious meal or fellowship with the extended family and
community through meals for the dead.

The Vase
Although the vase does not appear as a eucharistic calix (or chalice)
until the peace of Constantine, it does appear fairly often as a symbol
in early Christian art (plate 5). It cannot be the container from which
the Eucharist/Agape wine was drunk, since that was uniformly a small
glass beaker. The vase occurs often with a dove, the primary symbol
of peace for early Christians. Given that meaning and its frequency in
both Christian and non-Christian burial areas, we can suppose that it
represents the unity of the extended family or faith community. As such,
it symbolically held the wine for the nearly universal meal for the dead.
After Constantine its meaning and function shifted to the newly formed
orthodox Eucharist, where it was then portrayed as a calix.

The Vine and Grapes

The artistically ubiquitous vine brought a rich history of meaning. In
Judaism and early Christianity it signified the source of life, especially
the life of the faith community (Isa. 5:1-7; John 15:1-11), and was
prominent in Hellenistic religions (e.g., the cult of Dionysius). The most
prominent surviving use of the vine in early Christianity occurs in Mau-
soleum M in the necropolis of St. Peter's. A green vine surrounds a gold
sky with Christ Helios driving across it (plate 22). Grapes sometimes
occur with the vine, though more often a dove. The dove signifies the
peace of the faith community, achieved by eating the grapes (drinking
the wine) of the community meal. Early Christians hardly needed to in-
ject new meaning into the grape and vine. It only needed to be adapted
to the Christian community. As with the fish and bread, eventually the
grape was identified with Christ, a grape (wine as blood) that suffered
for us (Clem. Paed. 2, 2). The grape survived the peace of Constantine
because it took on the Christological, cultic meaning.

The G o o d Shepherd
The second human figure is a male shepherd pictured with a member of
the sheep family, normally a ram, on his shoulders (plate 7). The symbol,
a criophorus, has an ancient history, dating, in Near Eastern circles, as far
back as 1000 B.C.E. Several meanings for the symbol have been suggested.
While in the Mediterranean world it likely signified sacrifice, the use
of the Good Shepherd in baptistries (Dura-Europos, Naples?), as well
as catacombs and meeting places, indicates that the shepherd bore the
98 Trajectories of Inculturation

religious actor into the faith community (or family of the dead). For that
reason the Good Shepherd has been identified as humanitas, in contrast
to the Orante as pietas. One might think of it as ecclesial hospitality.
After Constantine, the Good Shepherd became the most popular symbol
for Christ himself.

The Lamb
In most instances the lamb of early Christianity appears in bucolic scenes
(plate 21), either with the Good Shepherd or an Orpheus-like figure.
Although it would be tempting to identify the lamb with such biblical
images as the innocent ewe lamb of Nathan's parable (2 Sam. 12:1-6),
it is more probable that pastoral scenes reflect the hospitality of the early
church. Like the sheep of John 10:1-8, the lamb symbolizes the religious
actor enjoying the presence of (and community associated with) the Good
Shepherd (plate 7). That sense of community can be found as late as in
the apse of St. Apollinare in Classe, Ravenna, though there restricted to
the community of the apostles.
After the peace of Constantine the lamb became a major symbol of
the crucified Christ (Gallia Placida, Ravenna). The celebrative Passover
lamb, as Jesus (1 Cor. 5:7; John 1:29), has become the sacrificial agnus
dei (Rev. 5:6).
 Chapter 7

Representation Art

Just as a comparison with Jewish symbols has elucidated the Christian

interaction with Roman symbols, so a similar comparison in the area of
figurative art will show a comparable situation.

Jewish Art

As was seen in the discussion of symbols, Jews did not hesitate to bor-
row non-Jewish ornamentation, though no such ornamentation became a
mark of Judaism. In the earliest synagogues (Second Temple period) there
was no figurative art (Masada, Herodium, for instance). Presumably the
prohibition against "graven images" (Exod. 2 0 : 4 - 5 ; Deut. 5:8-9) sup-
pressed nearly all Jewish figurative art. Any relational- or dyadic-based
culture would have understood the dangers of substituting an icon or
image for the real person / divinity. There are some exceptions. The pri-
mary examples of Jewish figurative art come from the synagogue at
Dura-Europos. For reasons not yet clear the membership of that syn-
agogue chose to line the walls with fifty-eight biblical scenes (plate 8).
The dress, gestures, and style are primarily Hellenistic, but in no in-
stance has the artist utilized a Greco-Roman icon to express a Jewish
perspective. The figures can be identified as well-known persons from
the Hebrew Scriptures, so one can assume pictorial art at Dura-Europos
was primarily illustrative.

Christian Figurative Art

The early Christians were quite willing to use Hellenistic symbols in their
iconic conversations.1 As with the symbols themselves, early Christian art
was dominated by the prophetic tradition.

1. For references to a more traditional understanding of early Christian art see my

Ante Pacem: Archaeological Evidence of Church Life before Constantine (Macon, Ga.:
Mercer University Press, 1985), 31-65, and the list on p. 43.

99
100 Trajectories of Inculturation

The Prophetic Tradition

A Hellenistic figure, the Orante, was the primary icon for security and dis-
tance from the dominant culture. She occurred in several biblical scenes,
normally from the Hebrew Scriptures, as one trapped in threatening
situations, yet not overcome by adverse circumstances.

The Daniel Cycle (Conflict with Political Power)

Daniel in the Lions' Den. A favorite picture portrayed Daniel as

an Orante between two lions with, sometimes, a palace as a backdrop
(plate 9). Early Christians saw in the well-known Daniel story their own
conflict with various plenipotentiaries in the Roman Empire. The pres-
ence of the Orante, untouched by the lions, signaled the presence of a
power far superior to the state that threatened them with persecution, or
even the animals of the coliseum.
The Three Young Men in the Fiery Furnace. In the same way, the
story of Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego portrayed three Orantes
in a space filled with fire (plate 10). The three young men had refused
to recant their faith even under threat of terrifying death. Early Chris-
tians saw the same threat by the state if they failed to recant their new
faith. The presence of the Orantes assured them that the power of the
Christian God was strong enough to overcome such dangers. In some
cases there appeared in the furnace a dove with an olive branch in
its beak.
Susanna and the Elders. The third story of the Daniel cycle points
to a corrupt judicial system. According to the apocryphal story, Susanna
was pressured for sexual favors by two judges who threatened to say,
falsely, that she was having an affair with a young man. Susanna refused,
and was nearly condemned. But Daniel intervenes just in time. In early
Christian art Susanna appears as an Orante in the context of political
corruption (plate 11). Although Susanna appears in several portrayals
(almost a cycle in itself), invariably she signals legal security in the faith
community. The fact that Susanna is female may simply reflect that the
Susanna story is the paradigmatic biblical story on judicial blackmail.
On the other hand, there were more women in the early church than in
the population as a whole. One reason for that larger percentage was the
more egalitarian way women were included in the faith community. Some
of the new ways, such as the authority of the husband regarding divorce
and childbirth, contravened Greco-Roman customs. Surely these changes
placed the Christian woman at greater legal risk. This may explain the
popularity of the Susanna cycle.
Representation Art 101

Water Narratives (Conflict with Greco-Roman Culture)

We saw in the basic symbols of early Christianity several iconic references

to survival in a dominant culture. These were expressed by symbols that
could exist in water: anchor, boat, and fish. When the early Christian
artists shifted to pictorial representations, they used these symbols to
express the same prophetic critique. As in the Daniel cycle the religious
actor appears as the Orante.
Noah in the Ark. The primary water narrative contains an Orante,
who is apparently Noah, in a box, which serves as a boat, floating on
flood waters. Sometimes the dove and olive branch also appear (plate 12).
The Orante, infused with the Christian sense of peace (see the discussion
of the dove), lives in the culture but does not actually belong to it. Once
the interpreter realizes that the Noah-Orante refers to the Christian in
everyday life rather than a departed deceased, then the water scenes take
on considerable meaning.
Jesus Walking on Water. On the wall of the baptistery in the house
church at Dura-Europos an artist drew a boat on the water with a figure,
apparently Jesus, walking toward the boat. The meaning of this singular
scene matches Noah in the ark: Jesus, though not an Orante, participates
in the culture, but overcomes it.
The Fisher. Other water scenes deal more directly with the interchange
between the faith community and culture. The fisher, which significantly
occurs in the St. Peter's necropolis in Mausoleum M, pulls a fish from
the water (plate 13). While the fisher occurs as a figure in Hellenistic art,
there is no particular discernible symbolic meaning. Apparently, early
Christians saw in the fisher icon a power (Jesus?) that facilitated their
potential release from the dominant culture.
The Baptism of Jesus. The earliest portrayal of the baptism of Jesus
happens to be the most instructive. On the sarcophagus of St. Maria
Antiqua the nude boy Jesus stands in water, touched on the head by a
much larger old man (plates 13, 14). Above the man's head a dove is
descending. Of course it looks to us like the Gospel story of the baptism
of Jesus. But there were no biblical illustrations until the early fourth
century. In 180 C.E. viewers would have seen a heroic youth standing
in water blessed by a Neptune-like figure. Viewers accustomed to Chris-
tian symbolism would have seen also a dove indicating the peace of the
faith community as Jesus began the act of cleansing the water (culture).
The line between iconic conversation and illustration is so fine that clear
distinctions seem impossible. Surely at an early stage a Jesus tradition
that relativizes culture has infected Hellenistic symbols in such a way as
to signify a Christian critique of the Greco-Roman world. But sometime
102 Trajectories of Inculturation

afterward, even until today, the same symbols had the baptism of Jesus
as the referent. As only an illustration of the baptism of Jesus the scene
lost its original prophetic intent.
The Jonah Cycle. The Jonah cycle must be taken with absolute se-
riousness. Although the number of extant examples of early Christian
pictures varies between one and ten for each subject, there are as many
as forty Jonah cycles. The cycle consists of three parts: (1) A boat with
two men in it (sometimes as Orantes). Jonah is being cast, or is diving,
out of the boat (always as an Orante, plate 15). (2) Having swallowed
Jonah, a sea animal, or ketos, regurgitates him as an Orante (plate 15).
(3) Jonah lies under a vine on which lambs are climbing. The reclining
figure under the vine is always that of Endymion (plate 15). (Endymion
was a human joined with Selene, the moon goddess. After siring forty
children he rested on his back with his right arm crooked behind his
head.) The Jonah cycle symbolizes the mission of the first Christians, its
effort at inculturation.
Leaving the security of the boat and its Orante figures, Jonah enters
the chaos of the dominant culture. To be sure, the sea monster swallowed
the Christian witness, but could not destroy it. Instead, the Orante was
cast up alive on a beach. There the Jonah figure who has survived mul-
tiple encounters with the Greco-Roman culture takes a deserved rest,
not unlike the famous Endymion seen so often on non-Christian sar-
cophagi. Popular as it was, the Jonah cycle did not survive the peace of
the church, even as an illustration. Once Christianity was dominant that
iconic conversation had no more significance.
Moses Striking the Rock. At first glance it would seem that the miracle
of Moses securing water from a rock in the desert would belong to a
miracle or deliverance series rather than the water theme (plate 16). And
that may be. If, however, we take the water as a sign of culture, we could
say that the early Christian artist was portraying the flowing water as a
new "culture" given by God, sprung from no prior source (not unlike the
deculturized Jesus of the Gospel of John). Although this may not seem
convincing in itself, the history of the representation gives us pause. By
the end of the third century, Moses has shifted to Peter. It is not Moses
who facilitates inculturation, but Peter, the rock of the church. To be
sure, in the first portrayals of Moses striking the rock, it would appear
that the recipients of the water are dressed the same as Moses, but in
later examples of Moses / Peter striking the rock the recipients are quite
differently dressed (sarcophagus, Aries Museum). Someone other than
the Christian community is receiving the "new culture."
The Woman at the Well. If Moses striking the rock eventually refers
to the "miraculous" gift of a new culture, the two extant examples of
Representation Art 103

the woman at the well (see the baptistery at Dura-Europos) probably

reflected the same meaning. The well would signify a new source of life
(culture).

The Healing Tradition

Though missing in the symbols, the healing tradition plays a very impor-
tant role in early Christian art. Renewed interest in oral transmission of
the gospel tradition makes one suspect that such narratives were trans-
mitted in the continuing pool of oral material. It would be reasonable
to suppose that early Christian art would reflect the content of that
transmission. Of particular interest is whether a healing tradition or even
community of the miracle catenae, as found in the Gospels of. Mark and
John, can be found in early Christian art. In the case of the miracle cate-
nae we have an opportunity to test that hypothesis. There are very few
examples of any biblical representation, so the field is small. Apart from
the Jonah cycle (thirty to forty times), the largest number of any one nar-
rative would be eight for Noah's ark, and six each for Daniel in the lions'
den and the baptism of Jesus. In terms of the miracle catenae there are
five of the resurrection of Lazarus, three of the healing of the paralytic
(add two for lame and crippled?), two of the multiplication of the loaves
and fishes, and one of Jesus and Peter walking on water. The healing of
the blind person may occur once. In Crossan's unpublished recount of
my list there are seven examples of raising from the dead and five exam-
ples of making the paralytic walk. Because he adds the Christian meal to
the feeding of the five thousand, he actually has twenty-seven examples
of the multiplication of loaves and fishes.
There are not many other New Testament healing stories to be found
in early Christian Art. Casting out of demons (or conflict with the powers
of the old age) and curing of lepers (or destruction of artificial social
barriers) are missing. Although the healing of the blind person is nearly
missing from pre-Constantinian art, it became quite popular in the fourth
century. Its absence in third-century art probably has little meaning. Or
perhaps, by accident, no early examples survived.
The Healing of the Paralytic. This healing miracle is consistently
shown as a man walking with a bed on his head — indeed, with his head
piercing the rope springs of the bed (plate 17). Jesus is never present.
Since the portrayal of this healing narrative has no counterpart in Greco-
Roman art, the religious actor must either know the story of the paralytic
(Mark 2) or must, in some sense, adhere to the community of the miracle
catenae. Without Jesus present, of course, the representation has little if
any christological value. Soon after the peace of the church this repre-
104 Trajectories of Inculturation

sentation of the healing of the paralytic disappeared. In Ravenna, the

narrative is told by the friends lowering the paralytic into a house.
The Healing of the Blind Person. Jesus places his hand on the eyes or
head of the blind person (plate 18). Unlike the healing of the paralytic,
there is no portrayal of the cure. The early Christians have borrowed the
iconography of a thaumaturge who heals by touching or waving a wand.
Because of the Greco-Roman iconic predecessor, the early Christian reli-
gious actor can see the healing even though none has (yet) occurred. Our
primary examples of this representation occur after Constantine, but it
disappears by the fifth century.
Walking on Water. Of all the members of the miracle catenae, walking
on water appears the least often. Our primary example occurs in the
baptistery of the domus ecclesia in Dura-Europos. I have stated above
that it is an icon in the prophetic series even though it belongs in the
miracle catenae. As a miracle it portrays the power of Jesus (and Peter)
over the environment. After the peace of the church this representation
disappeared.
The Feeding of the Five Thousand. This miracle is portrayed by a fig-
ure with a wand, apparently Jesus, standing before a series of baskets (five
or seven). I count only two examples prior to Constantine, although the
number increases quite demonstrably after 313 C.E. (plate 19). Crossan
has argued that the scenes I categorize as the Agape are actually to be
included with the feeding of the five thousand. In my opinion, the artisan
did intend to portray the early church Agape; however, the connection
with the feeding of the five thousand cannot be overlooked. Invariably
there are seven baskets of bread, two fish, and wine. Normally there are
also seven people sitting at a round table. If one wishes to consider the
Agape (plate 25) as a reflection of the feeding of the five thousand, then
the miraculous meal becomes second only to Jonah as the most frequent
biblical representation. Put another way, the Jonah story reflects the pro-
phetic tradition, with its intent to infuse the Greco-Roman culture with
the Jesus tradition, while the feeding of the five thousand reflects the way
in which the new community of faith was formed.
The Resurrection of Lazarus. As there is no pre-Constantinian por-
trayal of the cross, or crucifixion, so there is no portrayal of the
resurrection of Jesus. That comes first in Ravenna. The resurrection nar-
rative in the miracle catenae makes Jesus the miracle worker instead of
the one resurrected. So for several centuries the resurrection refers to
Lazarus. The event is fairly consistently depicted with Lazarus wrapped
from head to toe coming out of a mausoleum (plate 20). That can be
sufficient, but normally Jesus stands close by, pointing at Lazarus with
a wand.
Representation Art 105

The prophetic and the healing traditions are well represented in early
Christian art. These artistic traditions appear side by side, not as two
discrete communities. The miracle catenae of the later church, like the
art, contain both traditions.

Early Christian Lists

It has been noted in recent times that miracle catenae of later Christian
literature bear some clear similarities to each other and to certain miracle
patterns in the Gospels. Julian Hills has provided a useful series of such
lists from early Christianity.2 A typical list would be the excerpt from
Acts Pet. Paul 41:
And they [or, I] saw him enlightening the blind, cleansing lepers,
healing paralytics, expelling demons from men,
raising the dead,
subduing the winds, walking upon the waves of the sea,
and doing many other wonders,
and all the people of the Jews calling him Son of God.
Of the nineteen examples listed by Hills,3 we find the following
miracles and the number of times each is mentioned:
1. raising the dead (17)
2. healing diseases (6)
3. curing lepers (14)
4. making the blind see (18)
5. making the paralytic walk (10)
6. exorcising demons (14)
7. making the lame walk (11)

2. Julian Hills, Tradition and Composition in the Epistula Apostolorum (Minneapolis:

Fortress, 1990), 4 0 - 4 4 . A similar list has been compiled by Paul Achtemeier, "The Origin
and Function of the Pre-Marcan Miracle Catenae," JBL 91 (1972): 199-200. Using the
"consensus" texts, David T. M. Frankfurter reflects on the miracle-list tradition in his ar-
ticle, "The Origin of the Miracle-List Tradition and Its Medium of Circulation," in Society
of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers 29 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), 344-74.
3. Hills's list of nineteen, which we are using, includes Paul's preaching in Rome from
the Acts of Paul; the speech of Jesus in the Acts of Paul; Pseudo-Hippolytus, Frag. ps.
2; Hippolytus, Noet. 18.7; Tertullian, Apol. 21.17; Cyprian, Quod idola dii non sint 13;
Pseudo-Cyprian, De rebaptismate 8; Acts of Phileas 6; Sib. Or. 1.351-59; Testim. Truth
2.22-33.9; Const, apost. 5.7.27-28; The Teaching of Addai; Acts of Andr. Mth. 10; Justin,
1 Apol. 48.1-2; Acts Pet. Paul 41; Ps.-Clem. Horn. 1.6; T. Adam 3.1; Anaphora Pilati A
1-5; Vindicta Salvatoris 6.
106 Trajectories of Inculturation

8. multiplying the loaves and fishes (6)

9. walking on the sea (7)
10. stilling the winds (8)
11. changing water into wine (6)
12. making the deaf hear (6)
13. making the mute speak (5)
14. healing palsy (1)
15. restoring a withered hand (2)
16. plucking a coin from the mouth of a fish (1)
17. straightening a hunched back (2)
18. finding something lost (1)
19. healing the woman with an issue of blood (2)
Raising the dead (sometimes Lazarus) and making the blind to see
were almost always listed. Curing leprosy and casting out demons were
next in frequency. Healing those who could not walk was next in im-
portance, with a large number of lists mentioning both the healing of
the paralytic and the lame person. Finally, a fairly popular motif was
controlling the water by either walking on it or commanding the storm
to cease.4
In these popular lists the predominance of the miracle catenae is clear.
The number of miracles has been expanded. Speaking statistically, it is
primarily the healing of lepers and the casting out of demons that caused
the numerical increase. Still prominent in the catenae lists are the Gos-
pel miracles: healing of the blind, making the lame to walk, feeding
the multitudes, walking on water, and resurrecting the dead, items we
have identified as singularly prominent in early Christian art. The Jesus
tradition continued to construct the life of popular Christianity.

4. See Frankfurter's chart in "Miracle List Tradition," 373-74.

 Chapter 8

Architecture

Granted that there could be mitigating circumstances such as the size

of the plot, the environmental context, or the nature of resources,1 still,
by and large, the theology of a religious community can be seen in the
shape of its meeting place.

Symbolism of the Built Form

Circular
The earliest meeting places probably were round. Appropriate worship
consisted of moving with the seasons in a circular fashion. The religious
actors stressed fertility rites and dancing.2

Rectangular/Longitudinal
In this built form the religious actor moved forward to a sacred place
(altar), a divine presence (icon), or an authoritative person (priest). I call
this a marching, or end-time (goal-oriented) religion as over against the
round, dancing type.

Square/Box/Hall
The square building stresses neither dancing nor marching, but perfection
of the human community where sacred boundaries exist. The sides of the
meeting place are even, and the boundaries of the community are clear.
Human considerations (often confused with divine law) determine how
one leaves the state of perfection and how one enters it. Meeting places
such as the synagogue or the house church tended to be square.
To oversimplify: circular foundations stress a heavenly reality; longi-
tudinal foundations stress an end-time vision; and square foundations
stress a present reality or realized eschatology.

1. Strzygowski argues with considerable vigor that the dome originated in Iran and
Armenia because they had to use sun-dried bricks for roofs rather than timber. See Josef
Strzygowski, The Origin of Christian Church Art (Oxford: Clarendon, 1923), 59.
2. John Gordon Da vies, The Origin and Development of Early Christian Church
Architecture (London: SCM, 1952), 51-80; Strzygowski, Origin of Christian Church Art.

107
108 Trajectories of Inculturation

The Synagogue Building

One would reasonably suppose that the first Christians developed meet-
ing places comparable to those that Jewish Christians would have known.
One of the major surprises in early Christian archaeology is to discover
that the architectural, artistic, and epigraphic continuity between Ju-
daism and Christianity is nearly nil. To be sure, as in early Christianity,
many of the extant Diaspora synagogues are in fact rebuilt houses (Dura-
Europos, Stobi, Priene, and Delos). In that sense some early synagogues
and churches show a parallel development. But other synagogues have
hall-like qualities, perhaps were even built into public buildings (Sardis).
Early synagogues were halls with a small Torah niche.

Antecedents of the Christian Built Form

As for Christians, the earliest meeting places were homes. To be sure,
some halls are mentioned (ev %r\ o%oA,fj Tup&wou, in a place of leisure
and learned discussion [Acts 19:9]; tip wtepcpcp, upper chamber, second
story, or women's chambers, [Acts 20:8]), and admittedly we have very
little archaeological evidence for house churches prior to 300. But what
evidence we do have indicates a nearly complete practice of meeting in
homes or reconstructed houses. 3 Archaeologically we have a nearly com-
plete house church from Dura-Europos, and a less certain example in
SS. Giovanni and Paolo in Rome. In contrast to Diaspora synagogues,
there is no known example of a house being rearranged to create a lon-
gitudinal pattern. A very few examples of the aula ecclesia, which was
normally longitudinal, did exist by the beginning of the fourth century
(St. Crisogono), but they should not be seen as an architectural step
between house and basilica.4
According to the older consensus, the house churches developed into
fourth-century churches. 5 Indeed the tituli churches of Rome often bear
the name of the person (normally a wealthy first-century Christian) who

3. The comment to the contrary by Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 8.1.5) cannot be taken at
face value: "They were no longer satisfied with the buildings of olden times, and would
erect from the foundations [eK 0eu£X,Ccov] churches of spacious dimensions throughout all
the cities." As with orthodox theology, Eusebius was anxious to show that the church at
the time of Constantine had always been there. There is no evidence to support either his
theological or architectural contention. Though an occasional Roman may have complained
about Christian buildings, third-century Christian writer Minucius Felix declared, "We
have no temple and no altars" (Octavius 32.1).
4. The early hall in SS. Giovanni and Paolo was built in an apartment over a "shop"
church. The earliest known aula, St. Crisogono, has no previous domus history. The aula
at Aquileia lies adjacent to a house that might have been a domus ecclesia.
5. So Robert Milburn, Early Christian Art and Architecture (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1988), 13-16.
Architecture 109

supposedly lived in the house below the present edifice (St. Clemente).
Careful archaeological work has shown that there is almost no church
that was built over a house church (except possibly, for example,
SS. Giovanni and Paolo, or the double church at Aquileia).6

The Suburban Villa

The earliest known "pure" churches were longitudinal with two rows
of columns creating a clerestory (figure 8.1 on the following page). At
the entrance were three doors — one for the nave and one each for the
side aisles. At the front of the church was an apse in which the liturgical
acts occurred. While no one claims that any church was ever built over
a suburban house, the architectural comparison is most instructive. A
suburban house consisted of an atrium at the entrance, a peristyle (an
open courtyard) formed by columns in a longitudinal axis (with rooms
on each side of the axis), and a triclinium (dining room) at the front
(figure 8.1). The pattern of the suburban house matches almost perfectly
the plan of an early church like St. Sabina or St. Crisogono. It is deeply
tempting to say that the first Christians met in wealthy suburban homes
with longitudinal peristyles. When they first came to build their own
buildings dedicated to worship, they designed them to match the houses
they had already experienced.

The Roman Basilica

Nevertheless, many scholars assume that the Roman basilica was the
antecedent for early church architecture. The Roman basilica was the
location for governmental hearings and official actions (figure 8.2). It was
built longitudinally, normally with a central nave and two side aisles. At
the front was a bema where officials sat during the proceedings. There
was no clerestory; the roof was flat or barrel-shaped over the nave. If
the first Christians thought hierarchically about the priesthood, and had
a positive attitude toward state functions, it stands to reason that the
basilica would provide an architectural model. One suspects that those
two conditions were not present at the beginning of the fourth century.7

6. On the types of homes used by early Christians see Robert Jewett, "Tenement
Churches and Communal Meals in the Early Church: The Implications of a Form-Critical
Analysis of 2 Thess 3:10," BR 38 (1993): 2 3 - 4 3 . For the areas in Rome where Christians
lived see Peter Lampe, Die stadtromischen Christen in den ersten beiden Jahrhunderten
(Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1987), 3 0 - 3 5 .
7. See Ejnar Dyggve, Dedekult, Kejserkult og Basilika: Bidrag til Spergsmalet om
den oldkristne kultbygnings Genesis (Copenhagen: Branners Forlag, 1943), 8, 24. The
basilica was built because "the emperor is a god, so it follows that his house is a temple"
(my translation). See also J. B. Ward-Perkins, "Memoria, Martyr's Tomb, and Martyr's
Church," JTS 17 (1966): 2 0 - 3 8 .
110 Trajectories of Inculturation

Figure 8.1. Villa house plan

However, like the suburban house, the plan of the basilica does indeed
match that of the Romanesque church.

Functional Antecedent: The Family

The issue of antecedents cannot be solved on the basis of formal architec-
tural similarities. We must also consider the function of early Christian
buildings.
There can be no doubt that the first church met in homes. In the letters
of Paul particularly we have frequent references. In 1 Cor. 16:19 he sends
Architecture 111

Figure 8.2. Plan of Roman basilica

a greeting from Aquila and Prisca cx>v xf\ Koru' OTKOV OUTOJV eKKA/noia.
Paul sends the same greeting to Aquila and Prisca in Rom. 16:5. In Col.
4:15 he greets Nympha and xfrv Ken;' OTKOV auxrjc, eKKA,r)c>iav. In fact, it
is more of a problem to conceive of a single church at Rome or Corinth.
When and where did all these house churches come together? Or perhaps
they never did!8 As we have seen, our only examples of early Christian
meeting places are indeed relatively small house churches. 9 In any case,
the community language of the first church was familial. Women and men
addressed each other as sister and brother. The divinity or authority was
father or mother. The religious actors were children of God. The meetings
were familial. House churches contained areas for worship and meetings,
for food preparation, and even for baptisms. It is close to inconceivable
that the early church would have dropped this familial community and
meetings in the house atmosphere in favor of a hierarchical, liturgical,
longitudinal architecture.
The church obviously could have adopted some other form of architec-
ture prior to 313 C.E. The Diaspora Jews did. The Christians intentionally

8. My personal opinion is that every house church had a manager (or minister?) who
not only owned the house and made the preparations, but also represented that house
church in the larger community. I assume that one house belonged to the city manager
(elder or bishop) who on occasion held council with the other house owners (gerousia). See
John Reumann, "One Lord, One Faith, One God, but Many House Churches," in Common
Life in the Early Church, ed. Julian V. Hills (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International,
1998), 106-17.
9. Eusebius argued that there were formal churches before 300 C.E., but they had
been destroyed during the various persecutions. On house churches in early Christianity
see Michael L. White, The Social Origins of Christian Architecture, vol. 1, Building God's
House in the Roman World: Architectural Adaptation Among Pagans, Jews and Chris-
tians (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990 [repr. Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity
Press International, 1996], 111-23); Robert Banks, Paul's Idea of Community: The Early
House Churches in Their Historical Setting (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980); Snyder, Ante
Pacem, 67-82. Hans-Josef Klauck, Hausgemeinde und Hauskirche im fruhen Christentum
(Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1981).
112 Trajectories of Inculturation

kept the house church even after they were sufficiently established and
wealthy to build edifices to meet their own needs and specifications. When
the early Christians did shift to buildings, what were the causative factors?

Marty ria
Some of our problems regarding early Christian architecture arise from a
lack of understanding the first three centuries. Most cultures of the Medi-
terranean basin considered the dead as members of the family. Families
were buried together in mausolea or private plots. They built mensae, or
tables, in the cemeteries so that families could eat with those who had
died (refrigeria). This occurred on the death date of the deceased. Obvi-
ously a large family could spend considerable time eating with their dead
(Augustine, Conf. 6.2). The dead themselves received their food through
a pipe inserted into the grave, though some early art shows the dead
person actually sitting and eating at the meal. Special chairs might be
present for their use.10 Early Christians continued this practice of eating
with the dead family members.
In addition to loculi and cubiculae in the catacombs, some people were
buried in round mausolea much like the Greco-Roman heroon. Most of
these burials afforded opportunity for communion with the special dead.
Some of the martyria were square (Bonn, Salona [figure 8.3]), but others
adapted the round edifice of the Greco-Roman culture. A special example
would be the memoria apostolorum discovered under St. Sebastiano in
Rome earlier this century. It appears to have acted as a mausoleum for
all the apostles. Whatever the history of that circular edifice, during the
same excavation, archaeologists found nearby a remarkable hall in which
early Christians ate with their dead in the presence of Peter and Paul.
Their prayers (147 remain) are scratched on the plaster wall of the triclia.
This third-century hall may not be the first martyrium, but it does point
to a significant development. Early Christians ate with their heroes, the
martyrs, and built special places so that they could be buried near the
martyrs and could eat with them as well as their families. Eventually
these special places tended to be round.

Coemeteria Subteglata
As the number of Christians increased dramatically, the burial practices
became a problem. More space for burials and for the family meals was
needed. As the peace of Constantine approached, churches began to build
10. Theodor Klauser, Die Cathedra itn Totenkult der heidnischen und christlichen
Antike (Munster: Aschendorf, 1927), 98-151.
Architecture 113

Figure 8.3. Martyrium complex at Salona

extensive cemetery buildings above ground. Most of the cemeteries fol-

lowed a specific pattern. The significant dead were buried in a round
edifice, like the heroon, which then was elongated along a longitudinal
axis (figure 8.4). The elongated building had three aisles formed by long,
parallel columns. Most had a clerestory. Other than the few instances
of an aula ecclesia, these were the first Christian buildings (St. Sebas-
tiano, St. Lorenzo, St. Agnese). What appeared to be an altar in the
apse was actually a mensa for the martyrium. The building itself was
not a place of worship. Instead, there were many burials and frequent
meals for the dead. There was no clergy and no liturgy. Covered ceme-
teries {coemeteria subteglata) were very popular. Constantine supported
the cemetery style, so that most of his first churches consisted of a nave
with side aisle, a clerestory supported by columns, all of which led to a
supposed martyrium surrounded by burials (St. Lorenzo fuori le mura,
St. Agnese, St. Sebastiano, St. Peter's, SS. Pietro e Marcellino [figure 8.4],
St. Constanza, Church of the Nativity, Church of the Holy Sepulchre).
114 Trajectories of Inculturation

irui"u~iru

Figure 8.4.
Covered cemetery at
SS. Pietro and Marcellino

Architecturally speaking, eventually the meal for the dead was moved
into the traditional hall. Relics of the martyrs were, for the first time,
placed under a mensa, now become altar, where the death of Jesus was
celebrated alongside the death of the martyrs. The presence of the relics
of the martyr(s) under the altar brought the meals for the dead into the
traditional church and allowed reverence for church heroes, while the
longitudinal axis acknowledged the authority of the church hierarchy.
Shifting the familial architecture of the house church to include the ex-
tended family created the need for a more extensive cemeterial building.
That building, rather than the suburban house or the basilica, became
the architectural prototype of the early Christian basilica. The shift oc-
curred, of course, when Constantine resolved to copy for public use what
had previously been more private and familial.
 9

Inscriptions

Language and Names

Jewish Inscriptions
According to Leon's study of Roman Jewish inscriptions, 405 (76 per-
cent) are in Greek, 123 (23 percent) in Latin, and only three in Hebrew.1
There is nothing surprising here. Diaspora Jews spoke primarily Greek,
some Latin, and practically no Hebrew or Aramaic. 2 While language
could be an issue of interaction of Jews with non-Jews in Rome, there is
no reason to suppose that the data for Jews in Rome would be signifi-
cantly distinctive. It is not clear where and at what point Jews adopted
the lingua franca of the Roman world.
The same is true of names, though perhaps more can be learned, be-
cause the use of names does not necessarily reflect the absolute need to
communicate with the dominant culture. According to Leon, the Jews of
Rome did not attempt to maintain identity by means of names. Of his
551 names, only seventy-two (13.1 percent) are Semitic. In fact, Latin
has become predominant with 254 examples (46.1 percent), followed
by Greek with 175 examples (31.8 percent). The predominance of Latin
names found in inscriptions that are primarily Greek indicates that the
Jews of Rome spoke the common language of the Mediterranean world,
but named their children according to the custom in Rome. 3 In terms
of interaction, the Jews did not contribute their symbols to the Western

1. At least two of which came from the same Monteverde catacomb, which had the
five Torah shrines. See Harry J. Leon, The Jews of Ancient Rome (Philadelphia: The Jewish
Publication Society of America, 1960), 67-92.
2. Wolfgang Wiefel assumes that the Jewish congregations must have spoken in Greek
("The Jewish Community in Ancient Rome and the Origins of Roman Christianity," in The
Romans Debate, ed. Karl Donfried [Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1991], 90). Tessa Rajak
notes that the balance between Latin and Greek varies according to the catacomb, so that
so-called Romanization may well have differed from synagogue to synagogue ("Inscription
and Context: Reading the Jewish Catacombs of Rome," in Studies in Early Jewish Epig-
raphy, ed. Jan Willem van Henten and Pieter Willem van der Horst [Leiden: Brill, 1994],
232-33).
3. In Osiek's revision of Leon's Jews of Ancient Rome (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson,
1995), twenty of her forty-one additional names are Greek (49 percent), fifteen Latin (37
percent), and three Semitic (7 percent) (see pp. xv-xvi).

115
116 Trajectories of Inculturation

world, 4 did not contribute a language, but did contribute many favorite
names, such as Esther, Jacob, Jonathan, Isaac, Mary, Martha, Rebecca,
Samuel, Sara, and Simon.5

Christian Inscriptions
Again, the first Christians of Rome did not bring with them names that
would mark their identity. So most of their names are Roman or the
virtue-names of slaves (such as Fortunatus, Irene, Agape). When Chris-
tians did begin to develop identifying names, they produced four types:6
(1) biblical names and names of early martyrs; (2) names incorporat-
ing names for God; (3) calendar names; and (4) Christian virtues. In the
larger collection of Christian inscriptions found in the Vatican (SICV)
there is only one example of a name taken from the Hebrew Scrip-
tures— Susanna. Two of the New Testament names have Hebrew roots
(Johannes and Maria), but in any case, only three other New Testament
names are used (Andreas, Paulus, Petrus). It is possible that the name
Laurentius refers to the early martyr. God-names appear in such ap-
pellations as Theophilus, Timotheus (or is it a New Testament name?),
Theonis, and Cyriacus/Cyriace/Cyriacete. Calendar names have Jewish
roots. The SICV examples are Paschasius and Sabbatius/Sabbatia. As
for virtues, it is difficult to tell whether frequent names such as Elpis
and Irene are actually Christian. Probably Anastas, Redempta, Renatus/
Renata are of Christian origin. Nevertheless, the one certain Christian
virtue name was Agape, though one cannot claim uniqueness.
Perhaps it is not the names themselves that are most important. It is
somewhat remarkable that the lasting names of the Western world in-
clude a large number of names from the Hebrew Scriptures and names
of Jews who were primary figures of the New Testament. Even more
important, though, is the process of name democratization. The formal
male name in the Roman world contained three names, while the for-
mal female name contained two. Of the 541 names listed by Leon, only
three are triple and only forty-nine are double. Of the names listed in
the SICV, 20 percent are proper Roman names. Although chronology
is, unfortunately, uncertain for most of these inscriptions, it is clear that
Roman names took a sharp drop after the peace of Constantine. By the
sixth century only 4 percent of the men had proper Roman names, and

4. See chapter 6.
5. Gerard Mussies, "Jewish Personal Names in Some Non-Literary Sources," in Stud-
ies in Early Jewish Epigraphy, ed. J. W. van Henten and P. W. van der Horst (Leiden: Brill,
1994), 250.
6. According to Iiro Kajanto, "Les Noms," in Sylloge inscriptionum christianarum
veterum musei vaticani, Acta instituti romani finlandiae, vol. 1, no. 2, ed. Henrik Zilliacus
(Helsinki, 1963) 68-71.
Inscriptions 111

only 2 percent of the women. Jews and Christians in Rome participated in

(caused?) a sociological shift that obviated the social distinctions between
noble, artisan, and even slave.7

Burial Vocabulary

In terms of the vocabulary itself, there is much to observe. In the Jewish

collection from the Vatican museum nearly every inscription is intro-
duced by the terms ev0a8e KeTxe (plate l). 8 This simple statement about
the presence of the deceased in the tomb contrasts sharply with the nearly
universal introduction on Roman inscriptions: DM or dis manibus ("to
the spirits"). 9 Christians dropped the DM, sometimes in favor of BM
or bene merenti, or depositus I deposita, meaning, one assumes, that the
deceased is here only temporarily. Both evG&Se Kette and depositus/
deposita break with the sense that the deceased now exists only with
the spirits or daimons.
Jewish and Christian burials are frequently marked by the key word
"peace." 10 In the Vatican Jewish inscriptions, nos. 1, 3, 9, 10, 14,15, 17,
18 end with some form of the acclamation "in peace." The final phrase
follows this formula: (1) the acclamation "in peace"; (2) the condition
wished, "sleep"; (3) a pronoun reference to the deceased person. A typical
example would be no. 15, ev ipr|vr| f\ KOi(ir|oi^ awfjc,," or no. 10, ev
eipr|vri fi KOIUTICIC, amo\). Of the 294 complete inscriptions described
by Leon, 239 open with ev9&5e Kerre, and 167 end with ev eipfyvri. Of
the 167 ending with "in peace," 136 contain the complete phrase, in
varying forms, ev eipfyvr| r\ KOiu,r|ai<; awou. 1 1 In addition, at least ten of
the remaining examples mention sleep in some form. Several speak of
sleep with the saints, e.g., u£ta xcov SiKecov rj icouriaic; autoa) (no. 110).

7. An observation so lamented by Jerome Carcopino, Daily Life in Ancient Rome,

trans. E. O. Lorimer (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963).
8. For the Vatican examples see Snyder, "The Interaction of Jews With Non-Jews
In Rome," Judaism and Christianity in First-Century Rome, ed. Karl Donfried and Peter
Richardson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 69-90.
9. The very few inscriptions with DM must have inexplicably slipped into Jewish and
Christian catacombs (Rajak, "Reading the Jewish Catacombs," 239-40). Note dis manibus
and discussion in no. 16 of Osiek's additions to The Jews of Ancient Rome (pp. 383, 20).
See also Rutgers, Jews in Late Ancient Rome, 269-72.
10. Erich Dinkier, "Shalom-Eirene-Pax: Jiidische Sepulkralinschriften und ihr Verhalt-
nis zum fruhen Christentum," Rivista Archeologia Christiana 50 (1974): 121-44.
11. Leon, Jews of Ancient Rome, 122. Of the forty-one additional inscriptions listed by
Osiek in the revised edition of The Jews of Ancient Rome, three include the complete set of
formulas, four others have the closing formula "in peace, sleep," two include the opening
formula "here lies" and the closing formula "in peace." Of the remainder, four close with
"in peace," and twelve open with "here lies." Or, put another way, seventeen open with
"here lies" and thirteen close with "in peace."
118 Trajectories of Inculturation

Although one cannot deduce from a few epexegetical phrases that the
sleep always refers to rest or peace with the faith community, it would
be difficult to avoid this intent. The ending phrase was an identity mark
for Jewish graves. The sleep referred to continued existence within the
boundaries of the community, likely even the specific synagogue that used
that catacomb. The quality of sleep with the righteous was, it was hoped,
shalom.
Likewise, in pace became the identifying mark of a Christian burial
(plate 21). Of the 350 examples in SICV, 107 utilize in pace at some
point. The origin and meaning of the phrase has been much debated. 12
Like vivas, it appears as an acclamation, used perhaps at meals or other
times of conviviality. In pace offers a wish that the person will find joy
and satisfaction in the corporate (meal) setting. Christians followed the
Jews by using the term shalom.n Instead of seeing death as a time of
individual wandering, Jews and Christians expressed faith in a continued
existence {depositus) among the believing community.

Conclusion
In regard to language the picture differs from that of symbols. Jews
did take on the language of the Romans and they used Roman names.
Although Hebrew or Aramaic never became a significant element in
the language of the Western world, the Jews did contribute many
personal names.
Christians likewise adopted the language of the Roman world. They
used Roman names, but not the name system. Dissolution of the Roman
name system reflected a strong democratization created by the nascent
Jesus movement. Christians apparently contributed very few personal
names to the Western world.
In both Judaism and Christianity burial language assumed a contin-
ued presence of the deceased family members. Neither signified that the
deceased lived in a spirit world.

12. For references see Bruun, "Symboles, Signes et Monogrammes," 76-79.

13. Dinkier ("Shalom-Eirene-Pax") doubts that early Christians derived their accla-
mation "in peace" from Jewish burial practices. He prefers a separate development that
depends on early Christian worship (e.g., John 14:27; 20:19, 26; Eph. 2:14). In any case,
the original source for the peace acclamation and its communal meaning would have been
Judaism.
 10

Calendar

A culture cannot exist without language and a calendar. The first Chris-
tians did not have a calendar that they could designate their own.
Eventually a Christian calendar did emerge from the Roman Julian
calendar.
We have here a clear instance of inculturation, but the process may be
so complex as to render historical reconstruction impossible.

Lunar and Solar

There are, of course, two types of calendars: lunar and solar. The lunar
depends on the observable waning and waxing of the moon (approxi-
mately twenty-eight days). Because it is based on the visible regularity
of the moon's phases, the lunar calendar serves well to establish cal-
endar units larger than a day (week, month) and to establish the date
for festivals on a recurring basis.1 The solar calendar is based on the
time it takes for the earth to circle the sun (365.25 days). Universally
a day is measured by the rotation of the earth. Seasons occur because
of the tilt of the earth as it rotates around the sun. Both calendar sys-
tems are necessary. Unfortunately they are incompatible. There is no
way to factor the lunar twenty-eight with the solar 365.25. Cultures
based on the lunar calendar inevitably lose track of the seasons and
must resort to ad hoc intercalations. Cultures based on the solar cal-
endar have no easily observable units of time smaller than a year and
larger than a day. Invariably they too must resort to ad hoc intercala-
tions in order to fill out the year. Few cultures depend exclusively on
one or the other, but also, history is littered with attempts to combine
the two.

1. Roger T. Beckwith, Calendar and Chronology, Jewish and Christian: Biblical, Inter-
testamental and Patristic Studies (Leiden: Brill, 1996); Encyclopaedia Britannica, 15th ed.,
s.v. "calendar," 3:599.

119
120 Trajectories of Inculturation

Jewish Calendar

The calendar of the Hebrew Scriptures was primarily lunar. But much
like the earlier Mesopotamian culture, both calendars were used. God
placed both the sun and the moon in the sky, and God said, "Let there
be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and
let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years" (Gen.
1:14). Although the lunar year is explicitly mentioned as the means of
measuring time (Ps. 104:19, 89:37), in other instances the solar month
must have been intended. For example,

and the waters gradually receded from the earth. At the end of one
hundred fifty days the waters had abated; and in the seventh month,
on the seventeenth day of the month, the ark came to rest on the
mountains of Ararat. (Gen. 8:3-4)

The five months from the seventeenth of the second month to the seven-
teenth of the seventh month came to 150 days or five thirty-day (solar)
months. Jewish festivals invariably followed the lunar calendar. Because a
lunar calendar was used, from time to time an intercalary month (number
thirteen) was required. Priests and rabbis could determine the need for
such a month primarily by the grain harvest. The harvest was necessary
for the proper celebration of the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened
Bread (Exod. 12:33-13:10; Josh. 5:10-12). Passover came on the four-
teenth of Nisan, a regular lunar date, though quite variable in a solar
calendar. Presumably, though not certainly, the fourteenth of Nisan must
fall after the vernal equinox.
The lunar month was divided into four phases, or weeks, of seven-day
duration. The last day of the week was a day of rest called the Sabbath.
Although the origin and rationale for the Sabbath were variously stated
(Exod. 20:8-11; 23:12-13; Deut. 5:12-15), keeping the Sabbath became
a primary mark of what it means to be a Jew.
During the intertestamental period elements of Judaism shifted more
sharply toward a solar calendar. Though the astronomical book of
1 Enoch 72-82 discusses the lunar calendar, its primary intent is to es-
tablish a twelve-month year of 354 days to which are added ten days to
match the solar year. The Essene community spent considerable effort to
perfect such a calendar (the Temple Scroll, HQTemple).

The Jesus Tradition and the Jewish Calendar

The Jesus tradition makes very few references to the calendar. Indeed,
the few references are negative. Jesus seemed not to hold to the Sabbath
Calendar 121

rest. He cast out an unclean spirit on the Sabbath (Mark 1:21-28). He

defended his disciples' act of plucking heads of grain on the Sabbath
(Mark 2:23-28). He healed a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath
(Mark 3:1-6). He healed a crippled woman on the Sabbath (Luke 13:10-
17). And, finally, he healed a man with dropsy on the Sabbath (Luke
14:1-6). In answer to his critics he insisted that the Sabbath was made for
the benefit of humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath (Mark 2:27).
There are no positive statements about the Sabbath or any indications
that Jesus took special care. He did visit the synagogue on the Sabbath
(Mark 6:l-2a; Luke 4:16). He hoped that the end time would not come
on the Sabbath, because that would hinder end-time flight (Matt. 24:20).
Jesus did not follow the liturgical calendar. Although he did not op-
pose prayer and fasting, he did suggest that it be done without any public
display of piety. The disciple of Jesus should pray in a closet (Matt. 6:5-6)
and fast in such a way that no one notices (Matt. 6:16-18). He him-
self had the reputation of not observing fast days at all (Matt. 9:14-15;
11:18-19).
In the Synoptic Gospels Jesus does celebrate the Passover, but even
then the calendric problems are staggering. There is no satisfactory ex-
planation for the activities that seemingly occurred on his final Passover.
Nor is there a satisfactory explanation for the Passover date of Nisan
15 in the Gospel of John. One must conclude that the story is so coated
with liturgical tradition that we can never hope to know the attitude of
Jesus toward the Jewish Passover.
It is clear that the Jesus tradition shows little use for the Jewish cal-
endar. Perhaps "disdain" might better describe the situation. We are left
then with several critical problems. Is the apathy toward calendar a re-
flection of the historical Jesus or a reflection of the Gospel churches? Or
put another way: if the attitude toward calendar stems from Jesus, what
made the early church keep it as part of the Jesus tradition? If Jesus did
not display apathy for the calendar, why did the early church make it
part of the Jesus tradition. 2
One could easily understand that any religious hero would step to the
music of a different drummer. But Jesus did more than ignore — he at-
tacked. The notion of attack offers yet another possibility. In addition to
lunar and solar calendars there was also the option of anarchy. One pop-
ular philosophy did indeed deliberately attack the common conception
of time. Cynics wore clothing inappropriate to the season, ignored night
and day, and carried out activities at unusual times. For them the calendar
was enslaving. We cannot determine here whether, and to what extent,

2. See Rordorf, Sunday: The History of the Day.

122 Trajectories of Inculturation

Jesus might have been a Cynic or have been influenced by the Cynics. Per-
haps it does not really matter whether the historical Jesus was a Cynic,
or a calendric anarchist. 3 What does matter is that the Jesus tradition
kept the disdain for the Jewish calendar. The earliest churches, though
at first Jewish, eventually could not follow a Jewish calendar without
compromising their faith system.
In terms of the Gospels, the first break with the Jewish calendar oc-
curs at the resurrection. Very early on "the first day of the week" the
women went to the tomb of Jesus (Mark 16:2 [16:9 is secondary]; like-
wise Matt. 28:1; Luke 24:1; John 20:1). John goes further yet by having
the first meeting of Jesus' disciples on the evening of the "first day of the
week" (20:19), and then yet another meeting eight days later (20:26).
The Gospel churches of the first century knew the tradition that Jesus
rejected the calendar, kept that tradition alive because they too had to
reject the Jewish calendar, yet dared not live by the Roman calendar, and
finally began to form a new calendar with the "first day of the week"
after Passover as the keystone.

Paul and the Calendar

As we have seen, Paul had a strong tendency to keep the status quo but, in
an eschatological manner, to relativize everything cultural. That is likely
true also of the calendar, but one cannot be certain. Paul is certainly not
without a sense of occasion. He urges the Corinthian Christians to laugh
at weddings and cry at funerals, but not to take such events seriously
(1 Cor. 7:30). On the other hand, he was deadly serious about the Lord's
Supper. Failure to recognize the meaning of the occasion was an invita-
tion for illness, even death (1 Cor. 11:30). We do not know the date of
the Lord's Supper or its frequency. He repeats the Passover institution
of the Eucharist as if it were simply an adaptation of the Jewish meal
(1 Cor. 11:24-27). Within the letters of Paul there is only one, quite
problematic, hint of the new calendar:
On the first day of every week [ r a t a uiccv oaffi&iov eKaotocJ, each
of you is to put aside and save whatever extra you earn, so that
collections need not be taken when I come. And when I arrive, I
will send any whom you approve with letters to take your gift to
Jerusalem. (1 Cor. 16:2-3)
At first glance one supposes that Paul intended for the collection to be
made during the meeting on the first day of the week. But a second
3. E Gerald Downing, Cynics and Christian Origins (Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1992),
10-12, 50-56; "Deeper Reflections on the Jewish Cynic Jesus," JBL 117 (1998): 97-104.
Calendar 123

glance does not sustain that interpretation. Each family is to put aside
some money on the first day of the week and then offer what has been
saved when the collection is made. It would be ridiculous to suppose
that each family gave to the collection at the "first day" meeting and
then took it home for a later time. Although one cannot easily explain
how the collection was to be made, there is no reason to believe that we
have here a change in the Jewish calendar.
Paul and the Pauline tradition were in a serious cultural quandary.
To become a follower of Jesus means rejecting the old way of life. The
old way of life is deeply embedded in the Julian calendar. In order to
change religious allegiance, the Julian calendar, with its solar-determined
festivals (7rcco%a axoixeta), had to be rejected. In writing to the Galatians,
Paul expresses in sharp terms his unhappiness with those converts who
are slipping back into the solar calendar:
Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to beings
that by nature are not gods. Now, however, that you have come to
know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back
again to the weak and beggarly elemental spirits [7n;co%a atoi%eta] ?
How can you want to be enslaved to them again? You are observing
special days [fiuipacj, and months, and seasons, and years [jirjvac,
Kcri Kcapoix; Kai eviawoucj. I am afraid that my work for you may
have been wasted. (Gal. 4:8-11)

At the same time, he scolds those who keep to the Jewish lunar calendar
(fiuipccc; TtapcrrnpeTaGe Kai ufjvac; Kai Kaipovc, Kai eviamoticj. With both
the solar and the lunar calendar there is a serious problem for the first
Christians.
At the same time, Paul, or Deutero-Paul, has a different problem. 4
Leaving the Julian calendar means either anarchy or accepting the avail-
able lunar calendar, the Jewish one. Some members of the community,
who hold to the solar calendar, condemn others for holding to the lunar,
or Jewish, one:

Therefore do not let anyone condemn you in matters of food and

drink or of observing festivals, new moons, or sabbaths [eoprrjc, fj
veoiinviaq f\ oappdxcov]. These are only a shadow of what is to
come, but the substance belongs to Christ. (Col. 2:16-17)
Paul advises those following the lunar to ignore the criticisms. His rea-
soning follows precisely the Pauline attitude toward culture: it does not

4. See Troy W. Martin, By Philosophy and Empty Deceit: Colossians as Response to

a Cynic Critique (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996).
124 Trajectories of Inculturation

matter anyway. The calendar is merely a shadow of things to come. What-

ever his formula "neither Jew nor Greek" means otherwise, it also surely
means that neither solar nor lunar calendar is ultimate. Nevertheless,
there is no sign of Cynic anarchy in the letter of Paul. His style is end-time
relativization, not end-time destruction.
The Paul of Acts follows the pattern we have discerned in the letters.
Acts 13:44-46 to the contrary, Paul always went first to the synagogue
on the Sabbath. The one exception, Acts 20:7, may not be so much an
exception as it appears:

On the first day of the week ['Ev 8e %f\ uia TGOV OOCPP&TCOV], when
we met to break bread, Paul was holding a discussion with them;
since he intended to leave the next day, he continued speaking until
midnight. (Acts 20:7)

The language certainly sounds formal. It was the first day of the week;
they gathered together and they broke bread. We assume from Acts (2:42,
46) that the breaking of bread was a fellowship meal, not necessarily the
Lord's Supper (1 Cor. 11:20) or the Eucharist. There is no reason to
suppose anything other than that Paul was speaking at a fellowship meal
on the day after the Sabbath.
In the Jewish calendar the days of the week were known by numbers
except for the Sabbath and pre-Sabbath (Friday). The day after the Sab-
bath was the first day. However, in the Hebrew Scriptures, "first day"
normally referred to the first day of the month (see 2 Chron. 29:17) or the
first day of a festival (e.g., Lev. 23:39). Although all the Gospel writers
know that Jesus was raised on the first day of the week, it seems to have
no significance for Paul. Granted that a Sunday tradition is starting, the
burden of proof lies on those who claim that Sunday was already estab-
lished in the New Testament period. There is only one incontrovertible
witness:

I was in the spirit on the Lord's day [leopiaKrj fjuepa], and I heard
behind me a loud voice like a trumpet. (Rev. 1:10)

The "Lord's Day" must be a term for the primary Christian day, the day
after the Sabbath. Presumably it reflects the apocalyptic expectation of a
day of the Lord (e.g., Joel 1:15; 1 Thess. 5:2).5

5. D. A. Carson, ed., From Sabbath to Lord's Day: A Biblical, Historical and Theo-
logical Investigation (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982). Encyclopaedia Britannica, 15th
ed., s.v. "calendar," 3:600-601.
Calendar 125

Calendar in the Fourth Gospel

If Paul relativizes the Jewish calendar, we would expect, from our pre-
vious discussion, that John would deconstruct the calendar. That does
indeed appear to be the case. The first element of deconstruction appears
in the form of timekeeping confusion. The progression in chapters 1 and
2 demonstrates the style. After the Pharisees encounter John the Baptist
(1:19-28) there are three successive occurrences of "the next day" (1:29,
35, 43). On what should have been the fifth day, we are informed that
the wedding of Cana was on the third day. That means the wedding oc-
curred either on the seventh day after the narrative began, or else it is
the third day of the week quite unrelated to the previous "next days."
John gives considerable temporal information, but confusion arises be-
cause he seldom offers a firm point of reference. On the final Passover
visit Jesus goes to Bethany six days before the Passover (12:1), but makes
the triumphal entry on "the next day" (12:12). Efforts to rationalize the
system have proven unproductive.
In addition to the confusion that arises, John has sharply altered the
assumed calendar. Matthew and Luke place the birth of Jesus in what
might have appeared to the readers as a firm historical context. John has
no birth of Jesus. While other dramatis personae in the Fourth Gospel
have names and introductions, the mother of Jesus has no name and
no introduction. If by 90 C.E. there was a nascent celebration of the
birth of Jesus with honor given to Mary, his mother, John has completely
erased it.
By 90 C.E. the churches must have known that the Jewish Passover
was no longer celebrated by Christians. They must have known that the
fellowship meal derived from or was described by the feeding of the five
thousand. John not only deconstructs the Passover, but also deconstructs
its replacement. He does include the feeding story (6:1-14), but after
crossing the Jordan, his Jesus chastises his listeners for depending on the
food in the wilderness. With him they can celebrate the real Passover
(Josh. 5:10-12). His very existence is the bread of life (6:35). More-
over, even the cup and the bread themselves must be deconstructed. In
6:51b-58, verses often rejected as late sacramentalism, he eradicates the
Eucharist and replaces it with his own blood and flesh, that is, his own
reality.
Of course, there is no Passover meal in the Gospel of John. The meal
described in 13:1-30, a meal that occurs at the same time (Thursday
evening) and with the same personnel as the Passover in the Synoptics,
cannot be the Passover in John, because he has shifted it to the fifteenth
of Nisan. Jesus is crucified at the same time the lambs are slaughtered
126 Trajectories of Inculturation

for Passover. If John was willing to alter a known, set calendar date in
order to make a theological statement about the death of Jesus, then we
see what little regard he had for the calendar as a whole. The Jesus of the
Gospel of John comes with very little in the way of cultural trappings.
To deconstruct the calendar must have been a primary objective of the
author.

The Roman Calendar

Before the first century B.C.E. Rome utilized a lunar calendar. In order
to make the calendar seasonal a number of intercalations was required.
About 46 B.C.E. Julius Caesar asked the astronomer Sosigenes to develop
a more stable system. The result was a solar calendar with twelve months
that were only approximately lunar.6 Before the advent of the Julian cal-
endar the Romans had used a nine-day week or nundinae period (actually
eight, not nine). Somehow (!) at the time of Julian reform a seven-day
week was adopted. Eventually this seven-day week became a planetary
week with this improbable order: Saturn, Sun, Moon, Mars, Mercury,
Jupiter, Venus.
At this juncture the issue of inculturation becomes vitally important.
Why did the Romans shift to a seven-day week? Calendar alterations
do not come easily. Was it the phases of the moon? But then there are
not four lunar weeks in a solar month. Apparently the Jewish seven-day
week was so popular that it was adopted by the empire.
Even more critical is the meaning of Saturn, the first day of the week,
but identical with the Jewish seventh day, Sabbath. Saturn began to take
on the characteristics of the Sabbath; primarily it became a day of rest.
Jews argued that the Romans copied their Sabbath. Romans argued that
the Jewish Sabbath derived from an earlier Roman practice. 7

The Calendar of the Early Church

While our survey of symbols, art, and inscriptions would indicate that
the Jews accepted some elements of the Roman culture but in return con-
tributed little of their own, the formation of the calendar shows quite the
opposite. Even though causes and historical antecedents are difficult to
determine, it appears that the Jewish lunar calendar played an important

6. Samuele Bacchiocchi, Anti-Judaism and the Origin of Sunday (Rome: Pontifical

Gregorian University Press, 1975); From Sabbath to Sunday: A Historical Investigation of
the Rise of Sunday Observance in Early Christianity (Rome: Pontifical Gregorian University
Press, 1977).
7. Bacchiocchi, Anti-Judaism and the Origin of Sunday; From Sabbath to Sunday.
Calendar 127

role in the formation of the Roman week. And the influence of the Sab-
bath day on the day of Saturn made possible the formation of a Christian
calendar. In the planetary calendar, the day after the Roman day of rest
was the day of the sun — dies solis. Whether or not the dies solis had a
special meaning, and even though it was the second day, it became the
Christian "first day of the week." Early Christians sought to diminish
the importance of the Sabbath and its observance. At the same time, they
fought the astrological importance of the planetary week. Eventually they
made the Roman day of the sun their first day of the week. We cannot
be absolutely certain that this was a direct attack on sun worship, but it
was an alteration of the Roman calendar for Christian purposes.
In the year 321 Constantine made the day of the sun the official rest
day. Presumably this was done for political purpose (calendric unity)
rather than to establish the Christian Sunday.

The Birth of Jesus

The most marvelous and striking piece of art discovered beneath

St. Peter's by the excavators has to be the yellow and green mosaic
showing Christ as Apollo crossing the sky in his biga (plate 22). What-
ever we say about the day of the sun, one can hardly doubt that the
first Christians struggled with the Roman worship of the sun god. The
chariot of Elijah on the doors of St. Sabina (plate 23) probably has the
same intent as the mosaic under St. Peter's. There are several frescoes
showing the three wise men, or astrologers, approaching Mary, with
or without the baby Jesus. Since early Christian art by definition is not
illustrative, one assumes that the three astrologers point to the calendric
importance of the birth of Jesus. In fact, one later representation (on a
fourth-century sarcophagus in Aries) has the three astrologers pointing
to the heavenly phenomenon (sun/planet/star? [plate 24]).
While it may be true that the early fathers of the church defended
the date of Jesus' birth using internal (biblical) data, still, the generally
assumed explanation cannot be ignored. The church redefined the winter
solstice as the birth date of Jesus rather than the birth date of the sun
god (natalis solis invicti).
The early Christians invaded the Roman solar calendar at the point
of the winter solstice. The vernal equinox is another matter. While some
Christians insisted on celebrating Easter on the day of the Passover, the
fourteenth of Nisan (Quartodecimians), most Christians celebrated it
on the first Sunday after the Passover (and presumably after the ver-
nal equinox). Following the lunar calendar for Easter meant that a fixed
128 Trajectories of Inculturation

solar date became impossible and so did a Christian celebration of the

vernal equinox.

The Martyrs Calendar

As we have seen in the section on architecture, the earlier Christians
adapted the Greco-Roman custom of eating with the dead on their birth-
day. They extended the sense of family to the church family much as
the non-Christian society shared around the tombs of heroes. Martyria
appeared by the third century (figure 8.3) It is my contention that the
large buildings of Constantinian Christianity are actually extended mar-
tyria called coemeteria subteglata (figure 8.4). They were built to house
the agape fellowship of the faith community around the graves of the
significant dead. These covered cemeteries were eventually converted to
basilica style churches.
In any case, eating with the martyrs created another aspect of the
Christian calendar. The first literary reference to continued celebration
of a martyr's death is recorded in the Martyrdom of Poly carp (18:3).
Eventually the Christian calendar was nearly filled with significant days
based on martyr deaths. The first Christians changed the deep-seated
custom of honoring significant dead with the custom of honoring those
who died for the faith. Along with Sunday, Christmas, and Easter, the
martyr days became the basis for the Western calendar.
 77

Food and Meals

The Meaning of Food

The meaning and use of food reflect primary components of a culture.
That fact has been recognized only in this century. The sociology of
food — a burgeoning field — has much to offer in the study of incultur-
ation. Unfortunately for the historian, the field of study has no unified
methodology, and even if it did, the possibility of ascertaining the food
habits of an older culture is problematic. Nevertheless, the issue of food
cannot be avoided. What we learn from the use of food in a culture will
be as valuable as any other indicator.

Methodology
Three approaches to the semiotic use of food have been utilized by social
scientists. In functionalism researchers (Durkheim,1 Merton 2 ) examine
the production and use of food as an integral part of the corporate en-
terprise. Much as the arm functions as a necessary part of the body,
so food functions as a necessary part of any given culture. The advent
of structuralism as a method of analysis brought among social scien-
tists a significant interest in food (Levi-Strauss, Douglas). The culinary
enterprise manifests deeper, underlying cultural structures that, if cor-
rectly deciphered, signal the organization of the human mind and society.
While the Levi-Strauss system of "raw/cooked" may confound many,3
the adaptation of structuralism by Mary Douglas has been widely used
by biblical scholars.4 A third method, developmentalism, actually serves

1. Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life, trans. J. W. Swain
(New York: Free Press, 1965), 13-33, 366-92; Emile Durkheim and Marcel Mauss,
Primitive Classification, trans. Rodney Needham (London: Cohen and West, 1963).
2. R. K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure (Glencoe, 111.: Free Press, 1968).
3. Claude Levi-Strauss, The Raw and the Cooked, trans. John and Doreen Weightman
(New York: Harper & Row, 1969).
4. Mary Douglas, "Deciphering a Meal," in Implicit Meanings: Essays in Anthropol-
ogy (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975), 249-75; Purity and Danger: An Analysis
of the Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1966).
Among biblical scholars a good example would be Halvor Moxnes, "Meals and the New
Community in Luke," Svensk Exegetisk Arsbok 51-52 (1986-87): 158-67.

129
130 Trajectories of Inculturation

as something of a catchall of the remaining styles. Normally, devel-

opmentalists are interested in the history of food use in a particular
environment. 5
All three methods have something to offer for studies in inculturation.
Since structuralism assumes an inherent relationship of food to basic
structure (kinship), we will sometimes use the ideas of structuralism, but
develop a more sociological, functional approach.
There are several subtopics that are useful for consideration: (1) the
meaning of food language; (2) the function and alteration of the menu;
(3) the use of meals to include and exclude; (4) the role of gender in the
food enterprise; (5) food for the dead; (6) food for the poor.

Jewish Food Symbolism6

Judeo-Christian covenant language often makes metaphorical or sym-
bolic use of food, family, meals, and sexuality. God creates the food
supply for all creatures:

These all look to you to give them their food in due season; when
you give to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand,
they are filled with good things. When you hide your face, they are
dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die and return to
their dust. (Ps. 104:27-29)

After the flood God proclaimed that everything living, except flesh with
blood in it, was available for human consumption:

Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you; and just as I
gave you the green plants, I give you everything. Only, you shall
not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood. (Gen. 9:3-4)

God fed the Israelites after bringing them out of the land of Egypt (Exod.
16:32) and promised to bring them into a land flowing with milk and
honey where they would eat and be satisfied (Jub. 1:7-8). God promises
end-time food. When the Jews return from the exile Jerusalem will be
their mother:

5. Gillian Feeley-Harnik, The Lord's Table: Eucharist and Passover in Early Christian-
ity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981), 16-17; Robert Alter, "A New
Theory of Kashrut," Commentary 68, no. 2 (1979): 46-52.
6. Jean Soler, "The Semiotics of Food in the Bible," in Food and Drink in History,
Selections from Annales Economies, Societes, Civilisations, vol. 5, ed. Robert Forster and
Orest Ranum (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979), 126-38; Roy C. Wood,
The Sociology of the Meal (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1995),1-45; Stephen
Mennell, Anne Murcott, and Anneke H. van Otterloo, The Sociology Of Food: Eating,
Diet And Culture (London: Sage Publications, 1992), 1-19.
Food and Meals 131

Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her, all you who love her;
rejoice with her in joy, all you who mourn over her — that you
may nurse and be satisfied from her consoling breast; that you may
drink deeply with delight from her glorious bosom. (Isa. 66:10-11)
At the end time the Jews will all sit under their own vines and under their
own fig trees (Mic. 4:4). The end itself is sometimes characterized by a
banquet (Isa. 25:6-8), to the point that eating together, especially in a
ritual context, foreshadows the end:
Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until
that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.
(Mark 14:25)
God's care for the people of Israel and even the end time are signified
by food. Various foods implied particular, significant meanings. Bread,
water, wine, and meat are among the foods that carry divine symbolism.

Bread
Faith in God took the form of dependence on God for manna, or bread,
from heaven furnished during the wilderness generation (Exod. 16:4; cf.
Hos. 2:14-15; John 6:31-34). 7 That dependence on God (bread) could
and did include, metaphorically, God's word or God's wisdom. However,
throughout the biblical period the symbolic action of "the breaking of
bread" refers to eating a meal, often sharing a meal (Exod. 2:20; Luke
24:30; Acts 2:42). Just as community was established and maintained by
the breaking of bread, so sharing bread with God maintained the divine
covenant. Bread was a part of the sacrificial system, both leavened (Lev.
7:13) and unleavened (Exod. 29:2). 8 Loaves of bread, called "bread of
the Presence," were placed in the sanctuary of the temple next to the
holy of holies. Both the metaphorical and symbolic significance of bread
can be found through the New Testament and early Christian periods.
However, the author of the Gospel of John rejected the importance of
physical bread in favor of divine reality as found in the presence of Jesus:
I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilder-
ness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven,
so that one may eat of it and not die. (John 6:48-50)
7. Peder Borgen, Bread From Heaven: An Exegetical Study of the Concept of Manna in
the Gospel of John and the Writings ofPhilo (Leiden: Brill, 1965); Bertil Gartner,/o^w 6 and
the Jewish Passover, Coniectanea neotestamentica, no. 17 (Lund: C. W. K Gleerup, 1959);
Bruce Malina, The Palestinian Manna Tradition: The Manna Tradition in the Palestinian
Targums and Its Relationship to the New Testament Writings (Leiden: Brill, 1968), 94-106.
8. Normally, breaking bread refers to the formation of community and the cutting of
bread to sacrifice. See Paul Fieldhouse, Food and Nutrition: Customs and Culture (London:
Croom Helm, 1986), 174.
132 Trajectories of Inculturation

Although John is the first to refer to Jesus as the bread, Judaism, as we

have noted, had already made bread a metaphorical symbol of God's
word (Deut. 8:3) and God's wisdom (Prov. 9:1-6). 9
Bread was not only a staple food among early Christians and all
others, but the breaking of bread signified and actualized the formation
of community. There are few universals, but bread consistently carries the
semiotic value of community with God and within the human commu-
nity. In the Christian community the breaking of bread commemorated
the death of Jesus as that death created and creates the faith commu-
nity.10 Bread was an essential part of the Agape and the Eucharist. In
early Christian art bread appears in all meals, either as separate loaves
or in baskets. Bread could also appear with fish or as an isolated symbol.
Because the breaking of bread was a divine symbol, bread could
become a punishment, and inappropriate consumption of bread could
lead to judgment rather than covenant life. In a dialectical, apocalyptic
pronouncement Isaiah says,
Though the Lord may give you the bread of adversity and the water
of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself any more, but
your eyes shall see your Teacher. (Isa. 30:20)

In the same way, those who take the bread and cup of the Christian meal
without perceiving the meaning of the event may become ill or even die
(1 Cor. 11:29-30).

Water
While water may not formally belong to a food chain, its value as a divine
symbol cannot be overstated. God sends the water that gives growth to
everything; it symbolizes God's goodness to creation (Pss. 87:7; 104:10;
107:35; 114:8; Isa. 41:18; 58:11). In a semiarid land God's gift was
absolutely essential. Israel's memory was that God cared for them with
bread and water in the wilderness generation:

The people quarreled with Moses, and said, "Give us water to

drink." Moses said to them, "Why do you quarrel with me? Why do
you test the Lord?" But the people thirsted there for water; and the
people complained against Moses and said, "Why did you bring us
out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?"
So Moses cried out to the Lord, "What shall I do with this people?

9. Borgen, Bread from Heaven, 147-78.

10. Breaking bread was a private, family matter that created community. Public uses
of bread did not involve breaking. See A. Hamman, Vie liturgique et vie sociale: repas des
pauvres, diaconie et diaconat, agape et repas de charite (Paris: Desclee, 1968), 55.
Food and Meals 133

They are almost ready to stone me." The Lord said to Moses, "Go
on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with
you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile,
and go.
I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb.
Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people
may drink." Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel.
(Exod. 17:2-6; cf. Isa. 58:11)

The water metaphor signifies God not only as the giver of food, but also
as a continuous source, a "fountain of living water" (Jer. 2:13), and, as
a result, Israel "shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water,
whose waters never fail" (Isa. 58:11). When there is alienation between
the people and God, then God withholds "all support of bread, and all
support of water" (Isa. 3:1), or even sends poisonous water:

Why do we sit still? Gather together, let us go into the fortified cities
and perish there; for the Lord our God has doomed us to perish,
and has given us poisoned water to drink, because we have sinned
against the Lord. (Jer. 8:14)

Water is a essential part of the diet. Granted that wine must have been
used as a drink, bread and water are a menu pair. In Exod. 23:25 God
says he will respond to their worship of him by, in turn, blessing their
bread and water. Hosea's adulterous wife says, "I will go after my lovers;
they give me my bread and my water, my wool and my flax, my oil and my
drink" (Hos. 2:5). At the time of the exile, the Lord speaks extensively
with Ezekiel about bread and water. A major threat will be "to break
the staff of bread in Jerusalem; they shall eat bread by weight and with
fearfulness; and they shall drink water by measure and in dismay. Lacking
bread and water, they will look at one another in dismay, and waste away
under their punishment (Ezek. 4:16-17). To be sure, as in 1 Kings 22:27,
a menu of just bread and water could also be used as punishment. (We
are not told there what food was being withheld.)
Water was a food. It was an essential food. But it was more than a
food. It was a gift of God that enabled life. That gift was not the water
itself but the conquering of original chaos. In the creation narrative God
overcame the waters of chaos in order to form the earth (Gen. 1:1-2).
According to the psalmist, God took charge of the water and created
flowing streams for the dry land God created (Ps. 74:13-15). Although
waters do not symbolize evil, they do represent a world that is unproduc-
tive and out of control. Using water under control, God created life and
134 Trajectories of Inculturation

civilization as we know it. But God could withdraw that creative power
and use the waters to destroy an unfaithful world:
For my part, I am going to bring a flood of waters on the earth, to
destroy from under heaven all flesh in which is the breath of life;
everything that is on the earth shall die. (Gen. 6:17)
Uncontrolled waters are, metaphorically, like the chaotic threat of the
nations around Israel:
Ah, the thunder of many peoples, they thunder like the thundering
of the sea! Ah, the roar of nations, they roar like the roaring of
mighty waters! The nations roar like the roaring of many waters,
but he will rebuke them, and they will flee far away, chased like
chaff on the mountains before the wind and whirling dust before
the storm. (Isa. 17:12-13)
God can control them as he did the Ur-chaos.
Just as bread signifies and effects community, so water signifies and
creates social order. When, in Gen. 1, the chaos of the water was over-
come, a calendar was formed (sun and moon), agriculture was made
possible, and humans became self-conscious. Failure of the human con-
sciousness (sin) eventually resulted in the formation of urban culture
(Gen. 4:17), a culture that God threatened to return to the original chaos
(Gen. 6:5-7; 7:4).
In the New Testament water takes on more of the chaos symbol than
goodness. To be sure, there are some positive uses of water (Matt. 5:44-
45; John 4:13-14; 7:37-39). The one who gives a cup of water is lauded
(Matt. 10:42). In the story of the rich man and Lazarus even a drop of
water would be a sign of mercy (Luke 16:24). But use of water as God's
goodness appears only in the book of Revelation:
Then he said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega,
the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift
from the spring of the water of life. (Rev. 21:6)
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as
crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb.
(Rev. 22:1)
The Spirit and the bride say, "Come." And let everyone who hears
say, "Come." And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone
who wishes take the water of life as a gift. (Rev. 22:17)
Otherwise, water refers to chaos, or else it is upstaged. A storm on Galilee
threatens the safety of Jesus and the disciples. Jesus not only calms the
Food and Meals 135

water, but he is able to walk on it.11 The Fourth Gospel also alters the
nature of water as a food. At the wedding in Cana Jesus transforms
purification water into wine for the feast.12 At the well in Samaria, Jesus
offers himself as living water to replace the stagnant cistern water of
Judaism. Perhaps the very absence of references to water indicates a shift
in symbolism. It never occurs in the letters of Paul except for yet another
alteration: the church is washed by the water of the word of God (Eph.
5:26). The author of 1 Timothy complains about those who still hold to
water as the gift of God (1 Tim. 4 : 3 - 4 ; 5:23). 13 For some, bread and
wine may have been replaced by bread and water.
Apart from the food cycle we might note here that water was upstaged
also as a purifying medium. In Luke 7:44-46 Jesus rebuked Simon the
Pharisee for his attitude when Simon failed to furnish water to wash
Jesus' feet, while the woman washed his feet with her tears. But most
importantly, the baptism of John was with water, while the baptism of
Jesus was with the Holy Spirit (Mark 1:8). The baptism of Jesus himself
has from the beginning been a problem. Why would Jesus need to be
baptized, i.e. purified? Semiotically speaking, much of the church moved
in a different direction. Water initially was evil or chaotic. So for Paul, the
initiate was baptized in the death of Jesus (Rom. 6:1-4). Typo logically,
Paul compares baptism with God's parting of the Red Sea (1 Cor. 1 0 : 1 -
2). Ignatius first stated that Jesus cleansed the water i'va tcp 7td0ei t o
i38cop KaGapior) (Ign. Eph. 18:2). Typologically, the baptism of Jesus was
compared to the creation, and to the crossing of the Red Sea and the
Jordan — all victories over the forces of evil (see especially Isa. 43:1-2;
51:9-11). 14
Little wonder, then, that early Christian art shows scenes of victory
over the water: symbols such as the anchor, the boat, and the fish por-
trayed a Christian existence in the cultural chaos. Even more significant

11. Raphael Patai assumes that the narrative of Jesus walking on water was built on
the Jonah story. See his Children of Noah: Jewish Seafaring in Ancient Times (Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1998), 117-21. See also the fascinating review by Jenny
Diski, "Did Jesus Walk on Water because He Couldn't Swim?" London Review of Books
(20 August 1998): 18-19.
12. On water as a religious symbol see E. S. Drower, Water into Wine: A Study of
Ritual Idiom in the Middle East (London: J. Murray, 1956).
13. Those drinking water might be ascetics. But they also might be Christians who have
come under the influence of a Jewish menu symbolism and have not yet accepted Christian
semiotics. In the Jesus tradition John the Baptist, with a vow of asceticism, came u.f| eoQioov
dpxov nn/re nivcov oTvov, while Jesus was known as a (p&yoc, m i oivondxric, (Luke 7:33-34).
14. See Andre BenoTt, he bapteme chretien au second siecle: la theologie des peres,
Etudes d'histoire et de philosophic religieuses de l'Universite de Strasbourg publiees sous les
auspices de la Faculte de Theologie Protestante 43 (Paris: Presses universitaires de France,
1953), 59-82; Per Lundberg, La typologie baptismale dans I'ancienne eglise, Acta seminarii
neotestamentici upsaliensis 10 (Uppsala: Lundequistska, 1942), 135-45.
136 Trajectories of Inculturation

are representations such as the Jonah cycle, Noah in the ark, and the
fisherman — all of which proclaim the possibility of Christian existence
in the watery morass of Roman culture.
As Jesus conquered evil through immersion in the water, so the first
Christians overcame cultural entrapment by their baptism (see Maria
Antiqua sarcophagus [plates 14, 13]).

Wine
The vineyard and its components are a very significant symbol of the
God relationship. Israel is a vineyard, as portrayed in the popular song
in Isa. 5:
Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard:
My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. He dug it and
cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; he built a
watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; he
expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes. And now,
inhabitants of Jerusalem and people of Judah, judge between me
and my vineyard. What more was there to do for my vineyard that
I have not done in it? When I expected it to yield grapes, why did
it yield wild grapes? And now I will tell you what I will do to my
vineyard. I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured; I will
break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down. I will make it
a waste; it shall not be pruned or hoed, and it shall be overgrown
with briers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they
rain no rain upon it. For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the
house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting;
he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a
cry! (Isa. 5:1-7)

The parables of Jesus refer to the vineyard in such a way that those
who heard them must have assumed that the Jesus tradition implied a
metaphor for Israel: the parable of the wicked tenants (Mark 12:1-11)
and the parable of the vineyard laborers (Matt. 20:1-16). Apart from
the parables, in the rest of the New Testament the vineyard plays no
role. As a divine symbol it references Israel, but not the church (though
note 1 Cor. 3:5-9). Instead, as in Judaism, the symbol has shifted to
the vine and grape or wine. Israel is a luxuriant vine that yields its fruit
(Hos. 10:1; cf. Ps. 80:8), and the end time will be marked by everyone
having their own vine and fig tree (Mic. 4:4; Zech. 3:10).15 The Synoptic

15. Although the vine and fig tree are, in the Hebrew Scriptures, an important sym-
bol for the end time, it did not carry over into the Jesus tradition except for Johannine
composition in 1:48-50.
Food and Meals 137

Gospels use the eschatological vine in the Last Supper: "I tell you, I will
never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink
it new with you in my Father's [landless] kingdom" (Matt. 26:29). The
author of the Gospel of John uses the eschatological vine as a sign of
God's presence: eyco eiui f[ qiTieAxx; (John 15:1, 5).
The vine did not disappear from Christian art (plate 22). It had been
a consistent decoration in Roman art and from time to time reappears
in later Christian art. For example, one thinks of the remarkable "Stem
of Jesse" designs on painted churches of Romania. But the real shift was
to wine. Wine as a divine symbol was hardly new to early Christianity.
Early in the pentateuchal narrative we recognize that wine belongs to
priestly actions:
And King Melchizedek of Salem brought out bread and wine; he
was priest of God Most High. (Gen. 14:18)
Wine could be part of the sacrificial system:
Moreover, you shall offer one-fourth of a hin of wine as a drink
offering with the burnt offering or the sacrifice, for each lamb.
(Num. 15:5)
Wine was also known as "the cup." It could be a cup of salvation (Ps.
116:13), but more often, especially in Jeremiah, it symbolized the wrath
or punishment of God:
For thus the Lord, the God of Israel, said to me: Take from my
hand this cup of the wine of wrath, and make all the nations to
whom I send you drink it. They shall drink and stagger and go out
of their minds because of the sword I am sending among them. So
I took the cup from the Lord's hand, and made all the nations to
whom the Lord sent me drink it. (Jer. 25:15-17)
And it was, of course, the cup of God's wrath that Jesus prayed might
pass (Matt. 26:39).
On the positive side, the Passover meal in the Synoptics and in 1 Cor.
11 use the terms "bread" and "the cup." As the breaking of the bread
creates the body, so the drinking of the cup (the wine) releases the Spirit.
Put more graphically, the bread is flesh and the wine is blood. The im-
agery is powerful. As we will see, the blood of a person or an animal was
life, and life belonged only to God. A Jew could not eat an animal with
the blood (life) in it, nor an animal that itself was carnivorous. To drink
blood would be an absolute break with Judaism. But actually it is not a
break. As they drank the wine with each other, the first Christians spoke
of the life (Spirit/blood) of God present with them.
138 Trajectories of Inculturation

For both Judaism and the Jesus tradition wine was a divine signifier.
But the analogy was not the same. As a divine symbol wine was a sacrifice
parallel to the sacrifice of blood and bread (Hos. 9:4). Amos complained
that some drank the wine without the sacrifice (Amos 2:8). In the end-
time punishment there will be no wine to sacrifice to God (Joel 1:13;
2:14). And in contrast there will be wine, even brandy (?), at the end-time
banquet:

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a
feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled
with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. (Isa. 25:6)

In Christianity wine was more the sign of God's presence, Spirit, in the
community, a community that was itself the sacrifice (Rom. 12:1-3). The
vineyard referred to the people and the land. Wine referred to the people
without a land. This centrality of wine in the Passover and in the Agape /
Eucharist/Mass helped make wine and its production a major element
in the Mediterranean food chain. 16
The use of wine as a food was not new, of course, to the Greco-Roman
world. The Greco-Roman meal was divided into two distinct parts. Con-
sumption of food occurred at the 5et7ivov, as, for the most part, the
participants reclined at a table, either three-sided or an arc. Following
the 8e?7tvov proper, the scene shifted to some form of entertainment or
learning (the CTVUTIOOIOV). At more lavish meals the men were entertained
by dancers, musicians, and prostitutes (actually all the women were des-
ignated by the term nopvn). At more intellectual cu|i7t6aia, such as those
described by Plato, the entertainment was a learned dialogue. At the re-
ligious meal the OVUJIOGIOV was the religious or cultic rite expressed by
the believers. Almost invariably the o\)u,7i6oiov involved consumption
of wine (often mixed wine, depending on the occasion). The Greco-
Roman use of wine may have been a serious detriment to table fellowship
between Jews and non-Jews. At the GDUTIOCTIOV particularly wine was
ceremonially mixed with water in a bowl, a (letaviTttpit;, and a libation
made. 17 In some groups it was expected that all present would drink
from this same bowl. Others might pour from the initial bowl. In any
case, commensalism depended on drinking from the same "cup" that
contained dedicated wine. For the Jew this was impossible. Mishnah
'Abod. Zar. 5 details how to manage the situation. Essentially the Jew

16. For example, it may well have so thoroughly replaced beer in Egypt that it de-
stroyed the breweries. See Roger S. Bagnall, Egypt in Late Antiquity (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1993), 32.
17. James N. Davidson, Courtesans and Fishcakes: The Consuming Passions of
Classical Athens (London: HarperCollins, 1997), 46.
Food and Meals 139

could drink the wine if it came from a sealed jar, that is, could not have
been involved in a libation. The Mishnah recognizes full well that in the
temporary absence of the Jew, the Gentile might dedicate the wine (see
especially m. 'Abod. Zar. 5:5). Since commensalism depended on drink-
ing together, the Jew was seriously limited. It may well be that the crucial
conflict in Gal. 2 had more to do with the use of wine, so essential for
table fellowship, than with delimiting foods.18
The Christian use of wine (or the Jewish, for that matter) at its
0"U|!7T6O~IOV, the Eucharist, would hardly have been an innovation. The
religious use of the wine as a libation was also not new. What was
new, the inculturation, was the use of wine as a symbol for Spirit/ blood.
This was so offensive that the non-Christians accused the Christians of
cannibalism. In the many early representations of the Agape the cup of
wine (or, krater, the equivalent of the [iBiavinipic, [?]) is always present
(plate 5).

Meat

The semiotics of meat is the most complex of the divine food symbols.
Comparable to the methodological issues raised at the beginning of this
chapter, it has also been suggested that there are three approaches to
kashrut: (1) pragmatic — food rules were given for health and iden-
tity reasons; (2) symbolic — food references a deeper sense of reality;
(3) therapeutic — food rules promote a healthier race. We assume here
the symbolic nature of kashrut.19
Deep in "repressed" memory of the Jews must have been the notion
that they were a vegetarian people. The P and J accounts of the creation
affirm the use of plants for food, but not meat. According to P the animals
were given only plant food to eat. The J account tells of a garden in which
there was every plant and tree that might be pleasing to the man:

[God said,] "And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of
the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that
has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food." And
it was so. (Gen. 1:30)
Out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree that is
pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the

18. E. P. Sanders, "Jewish Association with Gentiles and Galatians 2:11-14," in The
Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul and John in Honour of J. Louis Martyn., ed.
Robert T. Fortna and Beverly R. Gaventa (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), 178; Philip F. Esler,
Community and Gospel in Luke-Acts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).
19. Alter, "New Theory of kashrut," 47.
140 Trajectories of Inculturation

midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and
evil. (Gen. 2:9)

After the fall, God cursed the ground with thorns and thistles and left
only plants for Adam and Eve to eat (grain for the bread?).

And to the man he said, "Because you have listened to the voice
of your wife, and have eaten of the tree about which I commanded
you, 'You shall not eat of it,' cursed is the ground because of you;
in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles
it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to
the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust
you shall return." (Gen. 3:17-19)

Meat first enters the picture with the sacrifices of Cain and Abel. Cain
offers grain, the actual food for humans. Abel offers meat, the food of
God. God rejected the offering of Cain because grain was not God's food.
According to the E narrative God relented after the flood. Humans
could have animals just as they had eaten plants. However, the life of
the animal belonged to God, so humans could eat the meat, but not
the blood:

God blessed Noah and his sons, and said to them, "Be fruitful
and multiply, and fill the earth. The fear and dread of you shall
rest on every animal of the earth, and on every bird of the air, on
everything that creeps on the ground, and on all the fish of the sea;
into your hand they are delivered. Every moving thing that lives
shall be food for you; and just as I gave you the green plants, I give
you everything. Only, you shall not eat flesh with its life, that is,
its blood. For your own lifeblood I will surely require a reckoning:
from every animal I will require it and from human beings, each
one for the blood of another, I will require a reckoning for human
life. Whoever sheds the blood of a human, by a human shall that
person's blood be shed; for in his own image God made humankind.
(Gen. 9:1-6; cf. Lev. 17:10-14)

Based on the assumption that blood is life and life belongs to God, the
decree in Gen. 9 has become the primary food regulation of the Jews. For
humans to use meat the God signifier must be absent. Or put another way,
meat is only acceptable, ltDD, when the blood has been (ritually) drained
from the animal. Two other regulations remain. First, Jews may not eat
animals that have themselves eaten other animals. That is, draining the
blood from carnivores still does not take away the blood of the animals
Food and Meals 141

they have consumed. Consequently, only animals with hoofs, rather than
claws, may be eaten by humans (Lev. 11:3-26). Second, animals, fish,
and fowl that do not recapitulate the natural or created order are also
forbidden. Taxonomic consistency is required. Although that is not al-
ways absolutely clear in Lev. 11, it logically follows. Only an animal that
has a cloven foot (not carnivorous) and chews cud (demonstrably vege-
tarian) can be considered clean (Lev. 11:1-8). Only fish that have fins and
scales are accepted (Lev. 11:9-12). All others are variations from normal.
Birds that are carnivorous, or even appear to be, are also forbidden (Lev.
11:13-19). Although the reasoning is not always explicable, the Jewish
meat regulations were built on the belief that blood/life belonged to God
only, and that usable meat must recapitulate a created order.
This theological perception regarding blood and natural order (food
holiness), placed alongside the practice of circumcision (sexual holiness)
and the keeping of the Sabbath (calendar holiness), made of the Jews
an acutely separate people. Eating together at the same table reinforced
present communities and created new ones. But Jews could not eat with
non-Jews (note Gen. 44:32!), a fact most noticeable in the Diaspora (e.g.,
Dan. 1:8-10) or during severe oppression (2 Mace. 6:18-22; 7:1-9).

The Jesus Tradition

In the New Testament the Jesus tradition made it clear that defilement
was not a matter of eating unclean food:
Then [Jesus] called the crowd again and said to them, "Listen to
me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person
that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what
defile." (Mark 7:14-15)
It is not really clear what Jesus, or the Jesus of the tradition, actually
ate. We know only that he ate at formal dinners and was called a (p&yoc,
Kai oivo7t6xr|c,.20 Since there is no indication that Jesus ate more than
he should have, it seems possible that the epithet refers to eating and
drinking at inappropriate times and consuming food unacceptable to
the Jews.

The Problems of Food for Paul

The issues involving food nearly destroyed the early Christian communi-
ties. At first the issue was Jew and Gentile. Because all the first Christians
were Jews, there was no way to share the "good news" with Gentiles and

20. According to Dennis Smith, Jesus actually enjoyed formal dinners and banquets. See
Dennis E. Smith and Hal E. Taussig, Many Tables: The Eucharist in the New Testament
and Liturgy Today (Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990), 46.
142 Trajectories of Inculturation

develop new churches without eating together at the same table. Paul was
furious with Peter for refusing to eat with the Gentile converts in Galatia
(Gal. 2). Out of this conflict came the primary Pauline "slogan:" justifica-
tion by faith, that is, the good news that satisfactory life depends more on
trust relationships than even very appropriate directives regarding God
and life — works of the law (Gal. 3:5) — works that create division and
boundaries. Paul does not identify the food (i.e., meat with blood in it) as
the problem, but he does strongly associate "justification by trust" with
boundary-free eating. Justification has come to us because God in Christ
has shared the (God's) blood with us (Rom. 5:9).
But the issue was not that simple. To be sure, the problem of eat-
ing food in common almost destroyed the Jewish church as it became
more non-Jewish. Shortly before the conflict with Peter and the writing
of Galatians, Paul had encountered yet another eating problem. If the
first followers of Jesus ate according to the Jewish pattern, they would
be excluded from normal Greco-Roman social intercourse. If they were
excluded from everyday relationships, they would not be able to share
the Jesus tradition in either word or deed.
In Corinth some Christians (I think the "Christ group") were con-
cerned about several such issues. They wrote a letter to Paul about their
problem, and he responded. First Corinthians 7:1-16:21 contains his
answers. In 8:1 they have asked about food sacrificed to idols, and he
responds with his epistolary formula: Ttept 8e tcov ei8ooA,o0wcov. In all
these cases Paul must have given instruction that now has gone astray.
Paul must have told the Corinthian disciples that it was permissible to
eat food offered to idols. The logic, not totally expressed in the letter,
would make any philosopher wince. The non-Christians who sacrificed
the meat (making the food idol-specific) knew nothing of the Jewish per-
ception of God as the giver of all life and therefore the one to whom life
blood should be given. They did not know that the sacrifice for their god
was futile. Because the sacrifice was futile, there was no need to avoid
eating the resultant meat. Put another way, it was permissible to eat with
people who did not, in the Jewish sense, know what they were doing
(1 Cor. 8:10; 10:25-30). To obfuscate an already convoluted argument,
Paul added the great confession of faith of 8:4-6. Because idols had no
real existence, sacrifices offered to them had no theological significance.
Blood or no blood, ~\WD or not, go ahead and eat the meat (food) offered
to idols. Within the same letter Paul changed his mind. As we will see,
and as everyone recognizes, eating together forms community. Paul had
violated his own yet-to-be articulated "justification by trust." It is the eat-
ing together in community that creates life, not the giving of life blood
to God. So in chapter 10 of the same letter to the Corinthians he comes
Food and Meals 143

to his senses. It does not really matter whether the idol exists or not;
it does not really matter whether the meat has blood in it or not. What
matters is the focus of those who sit at the same table. If you eat at a table
with those who do believe in idols, then you have become a part of that
community that believes in idols.21 Paul then must thread a very complex
path between exclusive Jewish meals and entrapping pagan meals.

Early Christian Food

While Paul may not have found the path, early Christians may indeed
have engineered a compromise. The meat meals of the New Testament
are not repeated in early Christianity. We cannot say when Christians
stopped eating according to kashrut. We do know that the menu of the
Passover meal was not the menu of the early church. However it might
have happened, the feeding of the five thousand set the menu for the
first Christians. Bread, fish, and wine always appear (plate 6). Although
some fish could be unclean by Jewish standards, there is no life blood
involved. The feeding itself deliberately describes a spontaneous eating
event where no priestly function could have been involved. The issue
of clean and unclean has been bypassed. Furthermore, bread and fish
comprised a common meal in the Mediterranean world. That common
meal (like coffee and doughnuts, or a cola and a sandwich) of the early
Christians became the religious meal of the new faith. The fish signaled
separation from this world (water), though eventually it became a key
symbol for the faith: IX0YZ, Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior. Did it not
also serve as the compromise meat? It could be eaten by Jew and Gentile
alike without the issue of life blood.

Food in the Greco-Roman World

For the Gentiles, that is, Greco-Romans, fish was also a part of the meal.
A common meal consisted of bread, wine, and, with the bread, o\]/ov, a
cooked relish often made of fish bits. One form of the relish was called

21. There are two exceptions: if the Christian buys for private consumption and the
seller of the meat does not mention the sacrificial element, or if a non-Christian invites
the Christian to dinner and does not note where the meat comes from (1 Cor. 10:25-30).
"Don't ask!" See Wendell Lee Willis, Idol Meat in Corinth: The Pauline Argument in 1 Co-
rinthians 8 and 10 (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1981), 2 4 - 2 4 5 . Somewhat in contrast to
my position Willis and Gooch (Peter D. Gooch, Dangerous Food: 1 Corinthians 8-10 in Its
Context [Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 1993], 95-97) argue that Paul
rejected eating idol meat because he could not and would not abandon his Jewish sense of
"one God with his own covenant people" (Willis, Idol Meat, 222). From another perspec-
tive Hans-Josef Klauck (Herrenmahl und hellenistischer Kult: Eine religionsgeschichtliche
Untersuchung zum ersten Korintherbrief [Munster: Aschendorf, 1982]) attributes the shift
to Paul's fear that the Corinthians would experience a "Ruckfall in der Gotzendienst"
(265-74).
144 Trajectories of Inculturation

by the diminutive, 6\|/&piov.22 In fact, the author of the Fourth Gospel

uses the Greek term for this fish dish in his account of the feeding (John
6:9-11) as well as of the Agape-like meal with Jesus on the side of the
lake (John 21:9-13): ecmv 7iai8dpiov a>5e 6c, e%ei Ttevxe aproix; KpiGivoix;
m i §\)0 oydpia- &Ma x a m a t i ecmv eic, xoaomo'ix;; (John 6:9). Although
the word 6\|/&piov probably meant a fish relish or sauce, it could actually
refer to any relish placed on the staple, bread. Another popular form of
fish at the meal was yapoc,, a sauce made of fish bits in brine. Though
such a meal preceded the bread, fish, and wine of the early Christian
Agape, it had no religious implications. 23

Summary
Any summary of this data will, perforce, be an oversimplification. But
generalizations are necessary in order to proceed (functionalism).

• Bread universally signifies the communion of eating together. In the

Jewish tradition breaking bread refers not only to human table fel-
lowship, but also marks the covenant relationship with God. The
metaphorical use of bread (word and wisdom) continued in the
Christian tradition, but more significantly, the breaking of the bread
signified the openness of the community (body) instead of exclusive-
ness. Breaking bread created KOivcovia in the house church. When
the church became public the bread was broken by leaders as a sign
of Jesus' sacrifice.

• Water signifies Ur-chaos. Only by God's action does water become

beneficial. As God's gift it offers the possibility of creating a fertile
land, making civilization, and quenching our thirst. On the other
hand, water remains the source of chaos, even evil. As in life and
culture itself, that ambivalence never disappears. As seen in their
symbols and art, the early Christians understood that they could
exist in Roman waters.
• Wine evolves from the vineyard and the vine. The vineyard signi-
fied Israel and the land. More abstractly, the vine referred to God's
people without necessarily including the land. In the New Testa-
ment the vineyard appears only as a negative reference to Israel,

22. The three proper elements of a Greek meal were choc,, oyov, and oivoc,. See Andrew
Dalby, Siren Feasts: A History of Food and Gastronomy in Greece (London: Routledge,
1996), 23.
23. Marcel Detienne and Jean-Pierre Vernant, The Cuisine of Sacrifice among the
Greeks (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989). There is "an absolute coincidence
of meat-eating and sacrificial practice" (p. 3), but the food itself has no particular semiotic
value.
Food and Meals 145

while the vine may include the new people of God. But actually the
relationship of God to the people ultimately shifts to the fruit of
the vine, wine, with its rich reference to the Spirit as the life of the
community (the blood of the body).
• Meat belonged to God. Theologically the Jewish people understood
that all life came from God, and that life was located in blood.
Though originally vegetarian, the Jews came to use meat as a food
only when the blood was first given to God. Meat appropriately
prepared became a mark of God's people. At the same time, proper,
acceptable meat signified God's original order. The semiotic value
of meat was obliterated by the first Christians.
• Fish had little semiotic meaning in the Hebrew Scriptures. It was a
basic food that, like plants and meat, had a created form that had to
be recapitulated. In that sense, fish too represented created order,
except that it lived in the chaos symbol, water. Fish, or fish rel-
ish, along with bread, was the common meal of the Mediterranean
world. In the New Testament, fish became highly symbolic. First,
by making fish and bread the religious meal, the first Christians
symbolically proclaimed a community that had no cultural barri-
ers. Second, because the fish lived in chaos, the fish, over against
Jewish kosher meat that was true to natural law, symbolized life
lived or redeemed in/from an alien environment or culture.

Menu and Table Arrangement

Under the rubric "menu" we ask what meaning the type of food eaten
has for a given culture. As for the problem of inculturation, we are
particularly interested in how the Judeo-Christian menu affected the
Greco-Roman world.

The Roman Menu

Although, in contrast to the Jews, the Greco-Roman world had no ethnic
identifying menu, they did use the menu to make sharp class distinctions.
Presumably the evening cena was not likely always a banquet, 24 but when
it was a banquet, the wealthy could indeed offer menus that staggered
the imagination. 25 One of the most famous was the incredible meal of the
nouveau riche Trimalchio, who, among other things, served a "delicacy"

24. Florence Dupont, Daily Life in Ancient Rome (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), 272.
25. Emily Gowers rightly warns that meals described in Roman literature may not
be factual. {The Loaded Table: Representations of Food in Roman Literature (Oxford:
Clarendon, 1993),l-3.
146 Trajectories of Inculturation

on each segment of a zodiac platter: beef, kidney, figs, lobster, goose,

to name a few.26 The distinction between the wealthy and others was
that between "soft" and "hard" foods.27 The wealthy served soft foods
that had been delivered quickly to the banquet and had to be consumed
immediately (before putrefaction). Fish was a particularly desirable item
because it could be prepared and served without concern for sacrifice.
The sacrifice of the animal limited the types of cuts available for the
banquet. So, in earlier years, at least, the fish eater, 6\jJ0qxxY0C,, was one
who preferred dainty or delicate eating. Presumably the appellation might
also have served as a term of derision for lower class people who ate
hard food (salt fish) that could be stored and would not need immediate
attention. 28
Furthermore, the patron offered the meal; the client had no choice
but to attend. Once there, guests were seated according to their value
to the host. The honored seats were those on the couch opposite the
empty section of the triclinium (the lectus medius). Sometimes a table in
the form of an arc was used (the lunar sigma, as normally seen in early
Christian art [plate 26]). 29 In that case the honored positions were at
each end. Following the meal there was invariably a OUUTIOOIOV of some
type — dancing, music, presentations, or discussion.
A usual meal in the Greco-Roman world, other than a banquet, con-
sisted of bread, mixed wine, some relish or sauce, and cheese. While such
a menu might serve as a "lunch" for most people, as a steady diet it would
indicate that the consumer was not of the wealthy or noble class. The
differences in menu apparently did not also mark an ethnic, racial, or
religious boundary (i.e., had no semiotic value).30 While food itself may
not have served as an ethnic or religious signifier, there were religious
associations where meals served as moments of festivity in the name of
a particular divinity (1 Cor. 10:20).

The Jewish Menu

The basic Jewish meal was fairly simple. While in the wilderness, the Jews
complained about leaving Egypt, where they sat by the kettles of flesh
and ate their fill of bread (otov eKaBiaauev erci x65v A,e(3f|TC0V xcov Kpecov
Kai fia8iou£v aprouc, eic, nXr\G[iovr\v, Exod. 16:3 LXX). Besides bread, the
Israelites yearned for water (Exod. 15:24; 17:2). Not only did the Lord

26. Jerome Carcopino, Daily Life in Ancient Rome, trans. E. O. Lorimer (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1963), 267-68.
27. Dupont, Daily Life, 276.
28. James Davidson, Courtesans and Fishcakes, 21.
29. Carcopino, Daily Life, 266.
30. Dupont, Daily Life, 270-72.
Food and Meals 147

give them water, but also meat in the evening and bread in the morning
(Exod. 16:12). Later the Israelites continued to murmur, remembering
the fish they used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons,
the leeks, the onions, and the garlic (Num. 11:5). We can assume that
these yearnings in the wilderness reflect a typical menu for this area of
the Mediterranean world. 31
The Jewish menu eventually became embroiled in two serious prob-
lems: the distinction between classes, and the distinction between clean
and unclean. As early as the eighth century B.C.E., preexilic prophets
were quick to note the difference between wealthy Jews and those less
prosperous:
Alas for those who lie on beds of ivory, and lounge on their couches,
and eat lambs from the flock, and calves from the stall; who sing idle
songs to the sound of the harp, and like David improvise on instru-
ments of music; who drink wine from bowls, and anoint themselves
with the finest oils, but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph!
Therefore they shall now be the first to go into exile, and the revelry
of the loungers shall pass away. (Amos 6:4-7)
Amos describes wealthy Jews reclining on triclinia made of ivory and
covered with fine pillows. They eat succulent dishes made from lambs and
calves, soft foods that parallel Greek the Greek menu. After the meal, like
other wealthy citizens of the Mediterranean world, they offer entertaining
o"uu.7t6o~ia, where idle music is played and improvisation occurs. During
the 0"U|i7t6aux they drink large amounts of wine and have themselves
massaged with the finest oil. Such a banquet is described in Esther 1:1-
12. Queen Vashti was not present because she followed the Greek custom
of eating separately with her guests. To her credit, and misfortune, she
refused to provide entertainment for the customary cx>\m6oxov.
There were alternate or counterculture menus that had more socio-
logical significance than actual prophetic protests or alternative symbol
systems. The Nazirite vow entailed abstinence from wine (Judg. 13:4),
and likewise, the Rechabites refused to drink from the fruit of the vine
(Jer. 35:6-7). Bread and water signified life without land. John the Bap-
tist was placed under the same vow to abstain from wine or strong drink
(Luke 1:15). His menu of locusts and wild honey (Matt. 3:4), without
bread and wine (Luke 7:33), does not imply an alternative symbol sys-
tem, but characterizes John as an ascetic, even a recluse, over against

31. Actually the list in Num. 11:5 is strange. In extant Egyptian papyri the bread and
fish are well attested, especially the kettles of fish or yapoc,; however, cucumbers, onions,
and garlic are seldom mentioned. Oddly, enough after fish, pork was the meat of choice.
See Bagnall, Egypt in Late Antiquity, 2 3 - 3 2 .
148 Trajectories of Inculturation

Jesus, who enjoyed parties and was known as a glutton and a drunkard
(Luke 7:34).

Menu in the Jesus Tradition

There are in the New Testament descriptions of meals that maintain the
same class distinction condemned by the prophets. 32 After a fine 8e?7tvov
the daughter of Herodias furnished entertainment for the 0"U|i7l6oiov
(Mark 6:14-29). Even more pertinent to Jewish class problems is the
parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), where the rich
man, who had a banquet every day (!), does not even share scraps from
his magnificent table with the poor Lazarus. Class differentiation is a
serious matter, but to leave nothing for the poor is even worse.
The issue of clean and unclean presents more difficulties. Sometime
about the sixth century B.C.E., perhaps during or even after the exile, the
Jews developed a sharp distinction between foods that were acceptable
and foods that were not. In terms of semiotics, we have seen that meat
with blood in it, or even carnivorous animals, was not acceptable food,
because life / blood belonged to God only. Moreover, plants and animals
that were not true to type also were classified as unclean (e.g., fish with-
out scales and fins). In structural, or kinship, terms the dietary or menu
laws became a very strong point of identity. During the exile and in subse-
quent centuries dietary laws, along with Sabbath laws and circumcision,
became the social marks of a Jew. While such dietary regulations may
be defended for environmental, health, or theological reasons, in fact,
they define a people and prevent the crossing of boundaries. In addition
to the menu itself (clean or unclean food), there were other considera-
tions that could block table fellowship. First, the participants must have
clean hands.
Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come
from Jerusalem gathered around [Jesus], they noticed that some of
his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing
them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they
thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the
elders.) (Mark 7:1-3)
According to this puzzling notice Jesus and the disciples were KOIVOI be-
cause they failed to wash their hands before eating their bread. The text
is problematic. 33 The "tradition of the elders" is nearly impossible to

32. Kathleen E. Corley, Private Women, Public Meals: Social Conflict in the Synoptic
Tradition (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1993), 93-95.
33. Marcus J. Borg, Conflict, Holiness, and Politics in the Teachings of Jesus (Harris-
burg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1998), 96-99.
Food and Meals 149

identify. To be sure, the Mishnah describes in great detail the washing

of hands (ra. Yad. 1-2), but there is no way to determine if this was in
force at the time of Jesus.
Second, there was the problem of tithing vegetables. Apparently ex-
tending the law of Deut. 14:22-23 (note Lev. 27:30), the Jews tithed the
vegetables they ate, even rather insignificant seeds:
"Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint,
dill, and cummin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the
law: justice and mercy and faith. It is these you ought to have
practiced without neglecting the others." (Matt. 23:23)
The Jesus tradition rejected the Jewish menu and accompanying blocks
to table fellowship. Jesus said that there was nothing outside a person
that could defile by going in; it is what comes out (behavior) that defiles
(Mark 7:14-23). A similar saying occurs in the harsh Matthean "Woe"
passage (Matt. 23:25-26), though food is not specifically mentioned.
Paul continues the rejection of clean and unclean. In a sense it is the
same Pauline process of relativization: neither food nor the human body
(stomach) has any ultimate value.
"All things are lawful for me," but not all things are beneficial. "All
things are lawful for me," but I will not be dominated by anything.
"Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food," and
God will destroy both one and the other. (1 Cor. 6:12-13)
John's Gospel, on the other hand, characteristically, destroys the menu.
Jesus himself is the apzoc, (6:41, 51), the oapt, (6:53), the drink (ftivcov
(J.OD TO aT|ia, 6:56), and the \35cop t,cov (4:14). People do eat in the Gospel
of John but there is no positive value placed on it (4:8) John even rejected
the standard menu for the early Christians (the fish and bread of 6:1-14;
see 6:26, 35, 53).
Why did the Jesus tradition bother to attack the Jewish menu system
and Jewish regulations regarding eating together? Did the early churches
include in their congregations sufficient Jews that the Gospel writers had
to state firmly the policy that menu and table traditions will not block the
unity of the early church? Or was the early church more of one mind, and
these controversies made clear the position of the nascent Jesus movement
over against the neighboring synagogue? One can assume that it was an
interior problem for Paul, a problem he had attempted to solve with the
words 7t&VT(x (ioi e^eoTiv, but failed. That may very well have been the
issue for the later Synoptic churches.
Although the early Christians struggled against the Jewish menu and
table regulations, at the same time, they strictly denied the Greco-Roman
150 Trajectories of Inculturation

class structure. As early as the writing of 1 Corinthians Paul attacked the

Roman double standard. Even at the KDpictKov 8et7tvov some would eat
their soft food, which had to be consumed quickly while others (late-
comers?) ate apro^ and 6\)/dpiov. The ones with soft food must also have
consumed more wine than the others. In any case, a class-specific meal
was severely rejected by Paul.34
The early Christian meal — bread, fish, and wine — as seen in the
feeding of the five thousand and all the portrayals of early Christian
meals, served two functions (plate 26). It opened the boundaries of Judeo-
Christianity. Being a common meal in the Mediterranean world, as a
menu it did not serve to exclude anyone. Perhaps even Jews might partici-
pate without offending their sense of life blood. But even more important,
the simple meal of the Christians democratized the Greco-Roman class
system. Luxurious banquets, with their ranking of clients, were no longer
acceptable. 35 The author of Revelation made it clear:
And the merchants of the earth weep and mourn for her, since
no one buys their cargo anymore, cargo of gold, silver, jewels and
pearls, fine linen, purple, silk and scarlet, all kinds of scented wood,
all articles of ivory, all articles of costly wood, bronze, iron, and
marble, cinnamon, spice, incense, myrrh, frankincense, wine, olive
oil, choice flour and wheat, cattle and sheep, horses and chariots,
slaves — and human lives. "The fruit for which your soul longed has
gone from you, and all your dainties (AiTtccpoc;) and your splendor
are lost to you, never to be found again!" (Rev. 18:11-14)

The Jesus Tradition and Seating Arrangements

The Jesus tradition also criticized the Greco-Roman seating arrange-
ments. Seating at the meal had to be democratized. James and John asked
if they would sit a the right and left sides of Jesus during the banquet.
Jesus said they could drink his cup, but he himself was not in charge of
the dinner (host) — he could not grant their request (Mark 10:35-40). In
further explanation Jesus says the Gentiles use the banquet as a means of
exercising and demonstrating authority, but the honorable ones among
the disciples will be those who serve the table:
So Jesus called them and said to them, "You know that among
the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over
them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so
among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must

34. Smith and Taussig, Many Tables. Smith (p. 63) notes the similarities between the
style of Roman banquets and the icupicxKdv SeTnvov.
35. Tertullian, Pud. 8; Clement, Paed. 2.1.
Food and Meals 151

be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must

be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to
serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." (Mark 10:42-45)
Despite the apparent validity of this criticism, at least two narratives
make us pause. Surely the author of the Fourth Gospel knew that we
would read the Last Supper in terms of a Roman seating arrangement.
By placing the beloved disciple at the chest of Jesus and Peter outside
of hearing distance, the author knew we would recognize the beloved
disciple as the most honored guest and Peter as one of the least honored
(John 13:23-24). The narrative is not ironic. To the contrary, the author
deliberately uses a class-oriented seating arrangement to convey the pri-
mary importance of the beloved disciple. A second text shows the same
attitude. In Luke 14:1-14, Jesus goes to a dinner with a leader of the
Pharisees. Noticing how the other guests sought to be placed at the seat
of honor, Jesus told an important parable:
"When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not
sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished
than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited
both of you may come and say to you, 'Give this person your place,'
and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But
when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that
when your host comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, move up higher';
then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table
with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those
who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 14:8-11)
The Jesus tradition uses a parable about the Roman tradition of seating,
without criticism, to set up one of the best known of the Jesus sayings,
that regarding who will be first and who will be last (verse 11).
In early Christian art the first community never sits at a triclinium, but
always at a lunar sigma. The honored guests are much more difficult to
determine — or at least moving "up" is more complex.When there is no
clear head of the table, it is impossible to tell who is first and who is last.

Meals, Community Formation, and Table Fellowship

There are few things on which one finds universal agreement. The
function of meals in the formation of community is one. One set of
sociologists leave little room for exceptions:
Food brings people together, promotes common interests, and
stimulates the formation of bonds with other people and societies.
152 Trajectories of Inculturation

Almost everywhere, a food offering is a sign of love, affection

and friendship. Withholding it may be seen as an expression of
anger or hostility, or as a form of punishment. Likewise, to accept
food from someone signifies the acceptance of his or her offer and
the reciprocity of feelings expressed, while refusal may be viewed by
some as a rejection of their kindness or an expression of hostility.36
One of the earliest users of the sociological approach to culture, William
Robertson Smith, wrote,
Those who sit at meat together are united for all social effects,
those who do not eat together are aliens to one another, without
fellowship in religion and without reciprocal social duties. 37
Even a graffiti scribbler in Pompei knew the truth: at quam non ceno,
barbarus ille mihi est.38

Jewish Commensalism
The meal as a builder of community would be true in any society, though
it seems especially true for the Judeo-Christian tradition. The formation
of the Jewish people occurred at the Exodus, which was celebrated by a
group meal, the Passover, in each home (Exod. 12:1-11). The meal was
exclusive. No foreigner or uncircumcised was allowed to participate. On
the other hand, meals were a critical part of hospitality. When the mes-
sengers appeared to Abraham and Sarah (Gen. 18:1-8), they offered their
guests a meal of cakes, curds and milk, and calf (though the messengers
apparently ate alone). Likewise, when the messengers appeared to Lot,
he prepared a feast for them with unleavened bread (Gen. 19:3).
There was nothing better than to eat with one's friends. Even the dour
author of Ecclesiastes, who saw little of value in life, found in eating
together a refuge from what was otherwise a continuing time of toil:
So I commend enjoyment, for there is nothing better for people
under the sun than to eat, and drink, and enjoy themselves, for this
will go with them in their toil through the days of life that God
gives them under the sun. (Eccl. 8:15)
Eating and intimacy were closely aligned. Boaz "flirted" with Ruth by
sharing his relish bowl (Ruth 2:14). The Song of Solomon reader could
not easily distinguish between lovemaking and eating:

36. Carol Bryant et al., The Cultural Feast: An Introduction to Food and Society
(St. Paul: West Publishing Co., 1985), 150.
37. William Robertson Smith, Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1885), 251.
38. Cited in Gowers, The Loaded Table, 26.
Food and Meals 153

Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind! Blow upon my

garden that its fragrance may be wafted abroad. Let my beloved
come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits. (Song of Sol. 4:16)

On the other hand, because eating together was intimate, it was quite
possible to abuse its significance. David tried to persuade Uriah to eat and
to lie with his wife, Bathsheba, in order to conceal that her pregnancy
was the result of relations with David. Uriah was horrified that David
would even suggest such a violation of holy war (2 Sam. 11:11). Even
more pernicious was Amnon's seduction and rape of Tamar, which he
accomplished by asking her to eat privately with him (2 Sam. 13:1-14).
There was also political value in the family table. David made some peace
with the followers of Saul by inviting Saul's grandson, Mephibosheth, to
eat at his table with all the king's sons (2 Sam. 9:11).
As we have seen, about the sixth century B.C.E. the Jews codified a
diet system that essentially identified them as Jews and excluded others
from eating at the same table. In the New Testament the story of Peter
and Paul in Gal. 2 sets well the problem of Jewish exclusivism. There are
four questions that need to be addressed: (1) Could Jews eat the same
food as Gentiles and eat at the same table? (2) Could Jews eat in the
same room with Gentiles? (3) Does eating in the same room constitute
table fellowship? (4) Is the food issue due to dietary laws or idolatry?

Jews and Gentiles at the Same Table

As we have already seen in our earlier discussion of Cornelius, the Gentile
mission began with the revelation to Peter that eating with the Gentile
Cornelius was appropriate. The assumption of the author must have been
that such table fellowship was not only forbidden, but perhaps even
repugnant. Certainly it was the general assumption among non-Jewish
writers that Jews could not eat with non-Jews. 39 Tacitus notes,

They sit apart at meals and they sleep apart, and although they are
a race most given to lust, they abstain from intercourse with foreign
women; among themselves nothing is unlawful. (Hist. 5.5.2)

Jewish sources are not quite as clear. The author of Daniel portrays
Daniel as not wishing to eat the food of King Nebuchadnezzar:

But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself with the royal
rations of food and wine; so he asked the palace master to allow
him not to defile himself [i'va (if) c\>|4ioAA)v8fj]. (Dan. 1:8)

39. See examples in Philip F. Esler, Galatians (London: Routledge, 1989), 95.
154 Trajectories of Inculturation

It is not certain whether Daniel and the young Jewish men ate alone, nor
is it absolutely clear that CDIIIIOAAMJO refers to the defilement of unclean
food or the disgrace of eating with idolators. Other Jewish sources are
not more precise. When Judith ate with Holofernes she ate her own food.
Her rationale was indeed avoidance of disgrace (GK&v5aA,ov) rather than
defilement.

Then he commanded them to bring her in where his silver dinner-

ware was kept, and ordered them to set a table for her with some
of his own delicacies, and with some of his own wine to drink.
But Judith said, "I cannot partake of them, or it will be an offense
[oKdvSaA-Ov]; but I will have enough with the things I brought with
me." (Jth. 12:1-2)

Of course, she would not tell the man she was about to murder that his
food was unacceptable.

Jews Eating with Gentiles in the Same Room

Despite our earlier discussion of Cornelius, it would appear that the
answer is yes to the question of eating in the same room. In a docu-
ment approximately contemporary with the New Testament, Joseph and
Aseneth, Joseph ate with his prospective parents-in-law (non-Jews), but
at a separate table:

And Joseph entered the house of Pentephres and sat upon the
throne. And they washed his feet and set a table before him by
itself, because Joseph never ate with the Egyptians, for this was an
abomination to him. (Jos. Asen. 7:1)

The Letter ofAristeas, also contemporary with the New Testament, gives
us a different slant. After a lengthy philosophical discussion of unclean
food, the Jewish sages participate in a great banquet with the king. How-
ever, the king honors the dietary laws of the Jews: "Everything of which
you partake... will be served in compliance with your habits; it will be
served to me as well as to you {Let. Aris. 181). Jew and non-Jew ate in
the same room and possibly at the same table. But the king agreed to
eat kosher food.

One Table
In a sense the issue of meals and the intent of this study rest here. Speaking
in terms of structuralism, it could appear that the dietary laws and meal
restrictions signified a Judaism closed to outside relationships. As we have
seen, the calendar contributed to that exclusivism (e.g., the Sabbath), but
Food and Meals 155

the real issue must have been table fellowship. Since Jews could not eat
with non-Jews, there was little opportunity for Jewish inculturation of
non-Jewish cultures. And to be sure, as we have seen, there was minimal
inculturation coming from Judaism. Are the structuralists correct? Was
there no table fellowship even if Jews and non-Jews were in the same
room? Was the situation described in Galatians one where there were
two menus and two tables? Did Paul see that community could only be
formed when there was only one table? Did he see that two cooks, two
waitstaffs, and two tables could never result in the kind of community
envisaged by the Jesus movement? Can inculturation occur only when
genuine table fellowship can be enjoyed?
In recent days, poststructural perhaps, some scholars have insisted
that Jews were not so exclusive. Based, to some extent, on the same ev-
idence we have amassed in chapter 1, these scholars suggest that there
was more fluidity than has been proposed. Fredrik Barth argues that no
group can maintain its own ethnic distinctiveness without social inter-
action with other groups and cultures. 40 Boundaries are not so tightly
fixed that individuals cannot move back and forth. Indeed, the iden-
tity of the group is not diminished by individuals coming and going.
Some scholars have applied this to the Antioch dispute and other New
Testament material. 41 They argue that some social intercourse with non-
Jews is prescribed and some proscribed. Despite this difference between
structuralists and post[non]structuralists, most do agree that the issue
at Antioch was the inability to develop community if Jews and non-
Jews had to sit in the same room but at separate tables with separate
menus. We can be fairly certain that individual Jews did move in Hel-
lenistic circles, such as in civic activities. We can also be fairly certain
that non-Jews joined with Jews in the doing of good works. It does not
seem likely, however, that Jews and Gentiles ate at the same table. This
limited the impact of cultural Judaism on neighboring cultures. It was
the Jesus movement within Judaism that changed the nature of table
fellowship. Despite the importance of theology, the death and resur-
rection of Jesus, and an ethic of caring, the real alteration in Judaism
occurred (and Christianity clearly emerged) when table fellowship was
not blocked by dietary obligations or the rejection of food dedicated
to idols.

40. Fredrik Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Culture
Difference (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1969).
41. E. P. Sanders, "Jewish Association with Gentiles and Galatians 2:11-14," in The
Conversation Continues, 170-88; Craig C. Hill, Hellenists and Hebrews: Reappraising
Division within the Earliest Church (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992).
156 Trajectories of Inculturation

Kashrut or Idolatry
Esler has suggested that the issue at Antioch was idolatry not defile-
ment. 42 The argument has merit and should not be easily dismissed. If
the Jews and the Gentiles could sit in the same room and have a meal
together, either with separate cooks or all kosher, then what was the
problem? Although the New Testament deals with unclean food, it does
not mention the problem of wine. In the non-Jewish world wine was
frequently made usable by offering a small libation to the gods. Pre-
sumably (only presumably) the problem of food offered to idols was
a problem only in the Diaspora. In Palestine the issue must have been
clean or unclean. Regarding Diaspora adherents, the council of Jerusa-
lem (Acts 15:20) prohibits food offered to idols. The issue of defiling
foods is not mentioned. Paul would permit the use of food offered to
idols (1 Cor. 8), but eventually qualifies his remarks, especially when it
involves mixed table fellowship (1 Cor. 10:23-30). Was wine offered as
a libation one of the foods in question? From the mishnaic material it
would appear that the use of wine was not to be trusted unless the Jew
knew for certain that it could not have been offered to the gods. And
since the wine jar was open, or could be opened and closed, that was
very difficult (m. Abod. Zar. 5:5). It is possible that the issue of defile-
ment had been settled, and in this city of Antioch, in the Diaspora, the
problem finally came down to idolatry — wine offered to the gods. It
is one thing to overcome the exclusivism of clean / unclean regulations,
but quite another to eat and drink food dedicated to idols. The Jesus
movement had to overcome both barriers in order to move freely in the
Mediterranean world.

The Jesus Tradition

The Jesus tradition shattered Jewish exclusivism. Jewish leaders com-
plained that Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners (Matt. 9:10-13;
Luke 5:30). In the parable of the great banquet the outcasts are invited
to the meal after the upstanding citizens of the town refuse the invitation
(Luke 14:16-24). In Matthew's harsh allegorical interpretation of the
parable, the good citizens are obviously the Jews and the "street people"
are the Christians (Matt. 22:1-10).
In order for the Christian meal to be inclusive, the menu had to change.
As we have seen, the very fact that in the feeding story it was a boy
who furnished the loaves and fishes would indicate that it was a com-
mon, everyday meal (ottoc,, 6\j/dcpiov [6\|/ov], otvoc,).43 The first Christians

42. Esler, Calatians, 104-8.

43. Davidson, Courtesans and Fishcakes, 21.
Food and Meals 157

avoided the exclusive nature of the Jewish diet-menu. At the same time,
they thoroughly repudiated the Roman use of the menu for class distinc-
tions, for establishing the relationship between patron and client, and
for distinguishing between first and last. As in many other ways, Chris-
tianity was a faith for the people, not the elite. And it was available to
all the people. The menu of bread, fish, and wine became the Agape,
the religious meal of the earliest Christians. It is portrayed that way in
many pictorial representations of the Agape. Even when Jesus was first
portrayed at the Last Supper (Ravenna), the menu was still bread, fish,
and wine rather than lamb.

Commensalism and Gender

The roles of men and women at mealtimes are extraordinarily diverse and
informative. In my opinion, any discussion of the role of women in the
early church should include, perhaps even start with, men and women
at the table. At the same time, I must admit that the table customs in
Judeo-Christian tradition are as complex as they are informative.

Women at Jewish Meals

There is little in the Hebrew Scriptures to help us. When the messen-
gers came to see Abraham and Sarah, Abraham was in the charge of
the meal. He asked Sarah to fix the cakes while he procured a calf. A
servant was told to prepare the calf. As the three messengers ate, Abra-
ham stood nearby, while Sarah was in the tent. She was close enough,
of course, to hear what the messengers had to say (Gen. 18:1-15). In
the account of the Passover, women and children were present at the
meal (Exod. 12:47). One assumes that they reclined at the table with
the husbands. Other eating scenes from the Hebrew Scriptures follow
somewhat the Passover pattern. On feast days the sons and daughters of
Job ate together (Job 1:4). The book of Job ends with the happy note
that his brothers, sisters, and friends came to his house and ate bread
with him (Job 42:11).
I do assume that a story-based society like Judaism retained excellent
memories of prior practices. At the same time, such memories will have
been updated. So, for example, the descriptions of meals in the New
Testament often reflect a Roman style that might not have been the actual
custom at the time of Jesus. Likewise, I assume that negative portrayals
could reflect a later criticism of earlier customs. So the reader does not
necessarily know which culture is being reflected by a given narrative, and
whether it is positive or negative. It would appear that the narratives of
158 Trajectories of Inculturation

the Hebrew Scriptures, even the story of Esther, indicate more freedom
for women than found in the Greco-Roman world. 44

Roman Background

To gain a more certain understanding of the role of Jewish women we

need to turn to Roman customs and Roman criticism of Jewish women.
For the most part, women in the Greco-Roman world were private per-
sons. Or, perhaps more accurately, in private women related to women,
but in public did not relate to men. Consequently, proper women were
not present at formal meals, or meals where guests were involved. Women
who did appear at such meals were usually categorized by the term Ttdpvn,
prostitute. Women who were slaves or freedwomen were automatically
prostitutes because they were or had been available to a man or men
on demand. Women who performed for or entertained men during the
o"i)U7idaicc were prostitutes. Learned women who participated in pub-
lic discussions (also the symposium) fell in the same category. Women
who reclined at the table with men became public persons and also
were prostitutes. Apparently, women who cooked food and served it
were also labeled 7topvai. Women who were legitimate could be only
those born free or noble women. They did not appear in public with
men. There were short times in Roman history when the attitude toward
women was not so stringent, but for the most part, rules of privacy were
upheld.45
When we turn to the Judeo-Christian population several things, by re-
verse deduction, become clear. Since women born slaves were Ttopvai,
it stands to reason that many Christian women were, in the eyes of
Roman society, prostitutes. Women who reclined at meals with their hus-
bands, women who participated equally in the religious activities after
the meal, women who served the meals — such women would have been
seen as prostitutes in Roman eyes. Obviously, many Eastern table fel-
lowship religions did include women who were called prostitutes. The
Romans named three such groups: Mithraism, the cult of Isis, and Ju-
daism. Since Jewish women were not necessarily born slaves, it stands
to reason, by reverse logic, that Jewish women and men did eat to-
gether, as we had supposed from the uncertain data found in the Hebrew
Scriptures.46

44. Corley, Private Women, 66-67.

45. Corley, Private Women, chapter 2.
46. Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive; Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City.
Food and Meals 159

The Jesus Tradition

In early Christianity the interplay between Jewish and Roman customs
can be seen in a number of situations. Following the clues of Corley,47 one
can see in the Synoptic Gospels quite different adaptations of the Jesus
tradition. Mark has women present at meals with Jesus, but the Markan
tradition seems to have little feel for what that means. Matthew tends to
have women fully and deliberately present in the Jewish manner, as we
described. Luke has women present even more than Mark and Matthew,
but tends to protect them from the Roman opprobrium 7i6pvn.

The Healing of Peter's Mother-in-Law (Mark 1:29-31; Matt. 8:14-15;

Luke 4:38-39)
Although the method of healing varies in each of the Gospels, the end
result is the same. She serves. In all three narratives the word ouxKOvecG is
used. Mark is unaware of any problem; for Matthew the behavior of the
mother-in-law is assumed. Why did not Luke save the situation by using
another word? He knew it was derogatory for a woman wealthy enough
to own her own home to serve these five men. The answer is relatively
clear. The Jesus tradition tends to use healing stories for a purpose other
than the healing itself. For the man with the unclean spirit (Mark 1:21-
28) it was teaching (SIOOCOKCO); for the healing of the paralytic (Mark
2:1-12) it was preaching (KT|p,uo~o~a>) the word (though teaching in Luke
5:17). The healing of Peter's mother-in-law establishes the importance of
the diaconate in the early churches. Luke did not wish to eliminate from
association with Jesus an office that later in the story would become
quite important (Acts 6:1-6).
If this analysis is correct, we have seen an important piece of data.
The early Christians were aware that women served as caregivers, as
81&KOV01, and as ones who served, even officiated, the tables at the agape
meal (plate 26).
In Acts 6:1-6, which describes how the early Jerusalem church estab-
lished the diaconate as a formal office, Luke did his best to save women
from the Tiopvn nomenclature. He indicates that the Twelve were serving
the tables until such a time that it became a burden for them to preach
the word and serve the tables at the same time. So they agreed to appoint
seven others to wait on tables (8uxK0veTv Tpcate^aicJ. According to Luke
these seven Hellenists, appointed to appease the Hellenist widows, imme-
diately became evangelists. There is no reason to suppose that they ever
served the tables. We can hardly believe that any of the Twelve waited
on tables. Surely the tables were served by men and women who were

47. Corley, Private Women, 182-83.

160 Trajectories of Inculturation

not primarily responsible for the mission of the Jesus movement. Why
did the Hellenist widows fail to receive their share of the food? Was it
not likely that they were serving the tables, and failed to receive a full
share? In such a case the appointment of the Hellenist men as deacons
would be a literary diversion to cover the fact that it was the Hellenist
women who were overly occupied with serving (SiccKOveTv) the tables.
The diversion may have worked in the first century, but modern scholars
still puzzle over the call of the deacons in Acts.

The Woman Who Came to Dinner

One of the most extensive New Testament descriptions of a meal fol-
lows the accusation that Jesus is a glutton and drunkard and eats with,
or is friends with, tax collectors and sinners (iSou avGpamcx; (pdyog KOCI
oivo7iOTr|^, (pCA,0£ xeA,cova>v Kai djiaprcoABv, Luke 7:35). In response Luke
narrates the story of Jesus at the house of Simon the Pharisee (7:36-50).
Sometime in the course of the meal a woman came into the house (open
or outdoor triclinium?) and, in an emotional scene, washed the feet of
Jesus with her tears and with ointment. It was a scandalous scene in any
culture. The Pharisee Simon and his guests were dumbfounded. Their
response to the scene was epistemological. If this man were from God he
would have known that the woman was a du,apxcoA-6g (not a Ttopvn). To
be sure, their emphasis is on prior knowledge about the woman, but we
are left with the sensation that Jesus did not care whether the woman was
an &uxxpTG)A,6c;, nor did he acknowledge that her action categorized her as
a Ttopvn. Luke did nothing to save her reputation. She could not be saved.
Matthew and Mark changed the story completely. The story occurs as
part of the Passion narrative in the home of Simon the leper rather than
Simon the Pharisee (Matt. 26:6-13; Mark 14:3-9). Again, a woman
comes into the eating area, but this time anoints the head of Jesus for
burial. There is no mention of her as a d|iapxcoA,6<; or a Ttopvn. Instead the
guests complained about the excessive cost of the ointment. In contrast to
Luke, Mark and Matthew assumed the legitimacy of the woman's pres-
ence. Mark ignores the issue, and Matthew follows the Jewish custom
that women were present at a meal.
John takes the anointment part of the Matthean and Markan story,
but picks up some elements of the Lukan story. The woman anoints the
feet of Jesus and wipes them with her hair. Again, a scandalous act. But
the woman was neither a d(iqyucoA,6^ nor a Ttopvr). Quite the contrary:
she was Mary of Bethany, the most important female friend of Jesus.
Again without any apology, Mary was serving the table, but apparently
was not reclining at the table with Jesus. Like for Luke, for John her
action was scandalous. As in Matthew and Luke, in John the concern for
Food and Meals 161

excessive expense was expressed — but only by Judas. How could John
have told this incredible story to a Greco-Roman audience? Did he intend
to leave us with the teasing impression that Mary was the wife of Jesus?
Should we not assume that the Mary Magdalene of chapter 21 actually,
in the Gospel of John, be identified as Mary of Bethany? This Mary, as a
woman, parallels the masculine Beloved Disciple — two persons who had
received the divine reality from Jesus and who therefore were intimate
friends, especially at mealtime (ev tip K6A,7ICO TOV 'Irioofi, John 13:23).
In the case of a woman, Mary, that intimacy took on a strong sexual
quality. Still we are astounded that John could relate this narrative to a
Greco-Roman audience.

The Feeding of the Five Thousand

Because of the frequency of this feeding narrative (six times in the four
Gospels) and the frequency of artistic representations of the feeding
(plate 19) and/or the related Agape (plate 25), the story must be taken
seriously as data for meals in the early church.
In Mark's account of the feeding of the five thousand (6:30-44) he
refers to the crowd by means of the masculine plural pronoun (6:34, 41).
Only in verse 44 does he identify the five thousand as men (KCU r^oav
oi (payovueg [%ox)C, aproDcJ 7ievT(XKio"xiA,ioi av5pecj. Since the great crowd
surely consisted of families going up to Jerusalem for a festival, there must
have been women and children present. Mark does not mention women,
though his method of counting might have been to number only the
men. In the feeding of the four thousand (8:1-10) there is no indication
of gender. The masculine pronoun is used (verse 3), but otherwise it
is a crowd, a plural verb or masculine plural noun ending (in Greek a
masculine plural does not necessarily define gender; a feminine plural
does).
Luke, like Mark, refers to the crowd with corporate words like X&oq
or pronouns (9:10-17), except that the disciples estimated the number of
people to be five thousand men (fpav yap dooei avSpec; TtevxccKiaxiAaoi,
verse 14). Women do not recline and eat with the men.
In Matthew the feeding stories (Matt. 14:13-21; 15:32-39) are sim-
ilar to Mark and Luke, except that both times, when the number is
mentioned, the obvious is also stated: women and children ate with the
men (oi 8e eoGiovteq fjoav av8pe<; ooaet 7ievcaKiaxiA-ioi %copi<; yuvaiKcov
Kal 7tai8icov, 14:21; likewise, oi 8e eoGiovxec, rysav TexpaKio%iA,ioi avSpeq
%copic, ywaiKcdv Kal TiaiSicov, 15:38). True to other narratives, Matthew
does not hesitate to have men and women eat together and does not hes-
itate to infer that in the early Christian Agape men and women reclined
together at the table.
162 Trajectories of Inculturation

In John's account of the feeding (6:1-14), that which we suspected

is made evident. At issue is the number count. All the men and women
(dvGpcoTioi) were told to sit down, and their number was five thousand
men (etrcev 6 'InaoSc; 7toir|oai;e zovq avQpamovc, avaneoeiv. f\v 8e xoproc,
noXvc, ev tco TOTICO. avefteoav o w oi avSpec, xov api6u.6v 7tevTaKio%iA,ioi).
When all six stories are considered we must conclude that at com-
mon meals in the first-century churches men and women ate together. Of
course, each account has been edited to fit the theme of the redactor. John
wants no cultural inhibitions to the relationship between men and women
(so Mary at the table of Jesus). Matthew follows Jewish custom — men
and women together. Luke eliminates women in order to avert Roman
criticism, and Mark simply uses the word avSpec, to set the total number.

Mary and Martha

Jesus comes to a meal at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus in
Bethany (Luke 10:38-41; see John 12:l-3). 4 8 At the meal Mary sat at
the feet of the Lord and listened (7tapaKa0ec0eTo~a npoq TOUQ nodac, xo\)
K\)pio\) fJKOuev xov Xoyov OUTOV, 10:39). While this remarkable narrative
bristles with data, two items contribute to the matter of gender and meals.
It is difficult to picture the position of Mary, regardless of the assumed
table arrangement. Jesus was reclining at either a triclinium or an arc. In
either case Mary would be sitting on the edge of the table at the feet of
Jesus or even on the floor behind the table. How such a position would
enable Mary to hear the words of Jesus is inexplicable. If we are to
take this as a proper description of an early Jewish-Christian meal, then
women were not reclining with men. Otherwise, Mary has the position
of a submissive wife invited to a usually male event (sitting at a place
somewhat apart from the table). Any attempt by Luke to prevent the
appearance, in Roman eyes, of a 7topvr| seems absent.
There is yet another possibility. Just as healing narratives have been
used to develop the leadership of the faith community, so the intent of
this story may be to describe the training of early Christian (women?)
teachers. Mary takes the traditional stance of a student-disciple at the
feet of the master.49
The latter suggestion leaves Martha in limbo. Historically, Mary has
been taken as a contemplative and Martha as a practitioner. While there
is no basis for this ancient interpretation, there can be no doubt that
Martha acts as a server. It is Martha's house; she issued the invitation

48. Corley, Private Women, 133-44.

49. Elisabeth Schiissler Fiorenza, "Theological Criteria and Historical Reconstruc-
tion: Martha and Mary; Luke 10:38-42," Colloquy 53 (Berkeley, Calif.: Center for
Hermeneutical Studies in Hellenistic and Modern Culture, 1987), 1-12.
Food and Meals 163

to Jesus. While, in Roman eyes, by serving the table she also might ap-
pear to be a 7i6pvr|, in early Christian worship practice the owner of
the house church also serves the Eucharist/Agape. That is, the owner
is the minister (8I&KOVOCJ. Taken this way, the story has meaning in the
Jesus movement: Mary is becoming a 8i8ao~KaA,oc, (teacher) by sitting at
the feet of Jesus and hearing the word, while Martha acts as a SI&KOVOC,
(minister) as she serves the table (f) 8e M&pBoc TtepiecTtato 7tept TtoAAfrv
SUXKOVICCV eTtioTaoa 8e etnev, Ktipie, 00 uiXei 001 OTI fi &8eA,(pfj uou uovrrv
u£ KateXmev 8iaKOvetv;). This leaves us with a serious problem. Why
is only one ministry needed, in contrast to TtoAAfrv SuxKOviov, and why
is Mary's |J£pic, better than Martha's? Does the narrative reflect a time
when the tasks of the 8I&KOVOQ are overwhelming, so that specialization
has become necessary (Acts 6:1-6)?

Archaeological Evidence
However difficult it might be to work through the nature of the influences
on how men and women ate at the same table, we can be fairly certain of
the result. In artistic representations of the early Christian Agape, men
and women are seated at the same table. We can mention the fractio
panis in the catacomb of Priscilla (plate 25). Even more explicitly female
are some characters sitting at the table found in the crypt of Gaudentius
(catacomb of SS. Peter and Marcellinus, plate 26). The woman in the
lower right holds a glass of wine with the eucharistic bread directly on it.
She not only participates in the meal but apparently is officiating. Though
difficult to discern, the words in the upper right-hand corner appear to
me as "IRENE, MISC," that is, "Irene, mix some water with the wine
[for us]." I assume they are the words of the man to the right of Irene the
officiant. The hostess, Irene, would do the mixing. In the same catacomb
we find two other agape meals with inscriptions. In one the feminine
name Agape appears to the left (plate 27). She is asked to mix the wine
(nobis, for us). The inscription to the right reads, I believe, "PORCIA,
BIBA," that is "Portia, live well," a drinking salute to deceased Portia,
who apparently was buried in the loculus. In another scene (plate 28)
the names Irene and Agape appear. 50 Irene is asked to pass the hot food
("IRENE DA CALDA"), while Agape is asked to mix the wine. The
words to Agape are addressed to the woman on the right who apparently
has already mixed the water and wine and is distributing it with the
help of a young servant (artistic representations in antiquity could show
successive actions in the same picture).

50. Pierre du Bourguet, Early Christian Painting, trans. S. W. Taylor (London: Weiden-
feld & Nicolson, 1965), plates 87, 89, 100.
164 Trajectories of Inculturation

Women are reclining at the arc with men. In these three examples
women are in charge of the meals and are mixing the wine and distribut-
ing both bread and wine. Women are at least equal in early Christian
table fellowship.
Some inscriptions lead to the same conclusion. For example, in the
triclia under St. Sebastiano, early Christians sat at tables and scribbled
prayers on the wall. Many of the prayers inscribed come from one person
(eating alone?). Others include several people, presumably a whole fam-
ily. Primus, for example, eats with his wife Prima, his daughter-in-law
Saturnina, and Victorinus, his father (?).51 It would be unreasonable to
suppose that the women and men first ate at separate tables, then came
together to scratch graffiti on the wall.

The Meal for the Dead

In recent years there has arisen a massive amount of literature on this
subject. The problems involved and the volume of the literature forbid a
thorough treatment of the subject. Here we can only give a brief synopsis
of the function of the meal for the dead in early medieval Christianity
and the early church. Despite the breadth of research and the controver-
sies that have arisen, a general consensus about the meal for the dead
is emerging. That consensus would include, among others, the studies of
Lionel Rothkrug on medieval shrines and relics;52 Peter Brown on the cult
of the saints;53 Richard Krautheimer on early Christian architecture, es-
pecially covered cemeteries;54 and the work of Theodor Klauser,55 Andre
Grabar, 56 Ejnar Dyggve,57 and J. B. Ward-Perkins58 on the relationship
of pre-Christian cultic practices to the cult of the saints and meal for
the dead. 59

51. Snyder, Ante Pacem, 43. See Orazio Marucchi, "L'ipogeo con i graffiti degli apostoli
Pietro e Paolo scoperto sotto las basilica di S. Sebastiano," NBAC 27 (1921): 14.
52. Lionel Rothkrug, Religious Practices and Collective Perceptions, Historical Reflec-
tions, vol. 7, no. 1 (Waterloo, Ont.: Historical Reflections Press, 1980).
53. Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981).
54. Richard Krautheimer, Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture (Harmonds-
worth, England: Pelican, 1975); Rome: Profile of a City, 312-1308 (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1980).
55. Theodor Klauser, "Christliche Martyrerkult, heidnischer Heroenkult und spat-
jiidische Heiligenverehrung," in Gesammelte Arbeiten (Miinster: Aschendorf, 1974),
221-29; "Von Heroon zur Martyrerbasilika," in Gesammelte Arbeiten, 275-91.
56. Andre Grabar, Martyrium: recherches sur le culte des reliques et I'art, chretien
antique (Paris: College de France, 1946).
57. Ejnar Dyggve Dodekult, Kejserkult og Basilika (Copenhagen: P. Branner, 1943).
58. J. B. Ward-Perkins "Memoria, Martyr's Tomb and Martyr's Church," JTS 17
(1966): 2 0 - 3 8 .
59. The distinction is made here between the kinship community, which depends on
relationships for personal reputation, and the moral community, which depends on tran-
Food and Meals 165

Consensus Position
Briefly, the consensus would look like this:

1. Speaking methodologically, it would be inappropriate to refer to the

feast for the dead as superstition or ignorant folk religion. While
there may be considerable truth to the two-level religion described
by David Hume in his work on natural religion, one may not
use this distinction to render theological disdain toward popular
practices or to cast such practices into historical occultism. Pop-
ular religious practices must be taken seriously theologically and
historically.

2. In the ancient world there probably was no more important popular

religious practice than that associated with the cult of the dead and
eating with the dead.
3. The main sociological function of eating with the dead, or of the
cult of the dead in general, was community formation. The dead
simply were the "ultimate age bracket" of the local community.
By visiting the place where they were buried one would enjoy
fellowship with them and share in a continued conviviality. The
location of family tombs was normally around that of some "spe-
cial dead." The special dead could be clan or community leaders,
or, in pre-Christian times, persons of some renown.

4. The psyche of the special dead was limited geographically by the

burial place, so that the function of such a person was to create
social cement in local kinship communities. All stable communities
had a cult of the special dead.
5. This cult of the dead was so powerfully ingrained in popular re-
ligion and so critical for social stability that it could be utilized
for political or ecclesiastical purposes. Once that is understood, it
is possible to see that some of the most important political and
ecclesiastical formations in the Western world were handled by
management of the cult of the dead.

Cult of the Saints

We can sketch briefly some examples.60 Inculturation of the Jesus tradi-
tion into pagan Europe, north of Italy, required extraordinary measures

scendent values for reputation. I prefer and will use the term "ideological community" for
moral community. See Rothkrug, Religious Practices, 25.
60. The following thesis has been taken from Rothkrug's work.
166 Trajectories of Inculturation

as far as Christian formation was concerned. For the most part this for-
mation among pagans was accomplished by means of the cult of the
saints. Where Christian community did not exist, the elevation of a local
saint with shrine and relics, often at a pagan holy place, created a sense of
community with the Christian past that enabled certain Christian com-
munity virtues to be expected and a certain amount of loyalty or kinship
with the community where this special dead had resided. In southern
Germany sufficient indigenous saints were produced to develop a fairly
complete cult of the saints. In eastern France the production of saints was
much slower. In order to compensate for this lack, the papacy translated
abbots and bishops into sainthood. Their graves were elevated and the
relics translated into shrines where the community could meet in cele-
bration of appropriate feast days. Of course, burials were encouraged
around these shrines. In being buried close to the shrine one continued
in the kinship community of the special dead.
In northern Germany, on the other hand, there were few indigenous
saints. As a consequence, in order to foster Christian community, saints
and their relics had to be imported from southern Europe. Apparently
such imported saints failed to gain the popularity of either indigenous
saints or translated bishops. In any case, when the papacy strove to unite
the various local communities of Europe into a catholic, translocal com-
munity around the Virgin Mary, who could have no strictly local shrine,
there was considerable success except in northern Germany. It was there
that Protestantism, with its ideological community (as opposed to kinship
community), eventually developed.

The Beginnings of Christian Meals for the Dead

Returning to Rome, we can see exactly the same procedures at an earlier
date. Prior to Constantine the Christians had developed a cult of the
special dead, normally the martyr. It would be difficult to determine when
this started. Certainly the description in the Martyrdom of Polycarp,
about 156, cannot be interpreted other than as a cult of the martyr (Mart.
Pol. 18).61
It also seems probable that Ignatius of Antioch, rather than having an
idee fixe on his own death, actually anticipated that his martyrdom would
become a source of unification for the church of his time. He speaks of
himself becoming bread by means of the beasts.62 At least, when the
fathers of Israel no longer could serve as ancestry for the new Christian

61. See the discussion by Bernhard Kotting, Der frithchristliche Reliquienkult und die
Bestattung im Kirchengebaude (Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1965), 10. Kotting's work
is useful throughout.
62. artos tou christou, Ign. Rom. 4:1 (some MSS).
Food and Meals 167

communities, then there must have been a need to create kinship commu-
nities by means of a new special dead, the Christian martyrs. One would
expect that by the turn of the first century the Gentile church would have
to be seeking such new ancestry. In fact, one would suppose that the
Gentile church had to deal with the issue from the very beginning. In any
case, pre-Constantinian Christians in Rome and elsewhere had such cults.
In Rome the most famous is the memoria apostolorum underneath the
floor of present day St. Sebastiano. Here one finds a large edifice where
clearly many, many Christians ate together and made prayers to the spe-
cial dead, especially Peter and Paul. 63 Other memoriae can be found at
St. Lorenzo, St. Agnese, and SS. Marcellino e Pietro. When Constantine
became emperor he tried to consolidate the Christian church at Rome.
One major way he did this was by building edifices in the cemeteries
over or near to the memoriae of the saints. As we have seen in our dis-
cussion of architecture, most of what we call Constantinian basilicas are
actually coemeteria subteglata (figure 8.4).64 All the covered cemeteries,
including St. Peter's, were built to continue the cult of the dead. It was
Constantine's method of increasing the strength of Christian communi-
ties in the urban areas. These buildings did not function as churches.
They had no altars and no priests.65 We know from the literature of the
time that these buildings were used for burial places, funeral meals and
ceremonies, meals for the dead, and large festivals on the days of the
special dead and saints, all of which also served as a form of welfare for
the poor of the city.66 Following this move by Constantine to strengthen
the Christian church as the national religious institution, it fell upon at
least two princes of the church, Augustine and Ambrose, to unify the
local communities and consolidate the power of the church. It was these
two in the late fourth and early fifth century who insisted that the cult of
the dead outside the walls cease.67 As an alternative the relics or remains
of the special dead were brought into the city and placed in the crypt of
local community churches. By this means the community that had de-
veloped outside the walls would now be formed inside the walls. Inside
the city, inside authorized churches, the excesses of the cult of the dead
could be regularized by the priesthood and the hierarchy. At the same
time, the psychic effect of the presence of the special dead would create
new community life within the city, with its attending virtue of caritas. It
63. GraydonF. Snyder, "Survey and 'New Thesis'on the Bones of Peter," BA 32 (1969):
1-24.
64. Krautheimer, Rome, 25.
65. Ibid., 21-24.
66. For example, Paulinus of Nola, Epist. 13.11f. On the welfare function of the agape
meal see Reicke, Diakonie, Festfreude und Zelos.
67. Augustine, Conf. 6:2
168 Trajectories of Inculturation

was an original urban renewal program. At its deepest level the presence
of the dead now inside the city created a much more powerful sense of
extended community. Such a move was surely one of the sharpest social
revolutions in the ancient world. 68 The connection of tomb with altar
brought ultimate kinship values into the life of the city. If what has been
observed here is correct, then one might rightly ask whether the same
phenomenon appeared at other times in Judeo-Christian history. When
serious disruptions occurred, how was new community formed?

Jewish Meals for the Dead

There can be no doubt that the new community of Hebrews in Palestine
needed the graves of the special dead. We can see in Gen. 23 the amusing,
but absolutely essential, account of Abraham securing graves for himself
and the community mother, Sarah, at Mamre. Similarly the carrying of
the bones of Joseph from Egypt to Palestine served the same function of
holding together the Jewish community in Egypt as well as creating new
community in the promised land (Exod. 13:19). There are other examples
of the special dead in the Hebrew Scriptures. Apparently, Rachel's tomb
could be remembered and her presence imagined or felt (Jer. 31:15). Jew-
ish women made a special pilgrimage to the grave of Jephthah's daughter
(Judg. 11:39-40). So there can be no doubt about honoring the special
dead and the importance of that for the Jewish community.69
However, there is no meal for the dead mentioned in relation to these
graves. There is a meal for the dead in the Hebrew Scriptures and in late
Judaism. It occurs primarily as the bread of mourning, as in Jer. 16:7-8.
But there is no reason to suppose that the meals for these dead occurred at
any time other than the normal mourning period. The meal that created
catholic community in ancient Israel was the Passover meal. 70 It was an
ideological community meal, celebrating the Exodus liberation, rather
than strictly a kinship meal. But it certainly allowed for and promoted
the kinship function. Like Augustine's incorporation of the meal for the
dead in Christian liturgy, the Passover meal, a universal ideological meal,
incorporated in its celebration the function of the major harvest kinship

68. Brown, Cult of the Saints, 4 - 5 . J. Guyon describes the same revolution on the basis
of inscriptions. The catacombs now belonged to the church. See "La vente des tombes
a travers l'epigraphie de la Rome chretienne," Melanges de I'ecole frangaise de Rome,
Antiquite 86 (1974): 549-96.
69. Joach\mJeremias,HeiligengraberinJesu Umwelt (Mt. 23,29; L. 11,47) (Gottingen:
Vandenhoeck &c Ruprecht, 1958).
70. For a structuralist analysis of the meal for the dead, see Salvatore D'Onofrio, "A las
mesa con los muertos," in Antropologia de la alimentation: Ensayos sobre la dieta Mediter-
ranea, ed. Isabel Gonzalez Turmo y Pedro Romero de Soli's (Almeria, Spain: Consejen'a de
cultura y medio ambiente de la junta de Andalucia, 1993), 147-77.
Food and Meals 169

meal. Even though the Passover incorporated the harvest meal, the Jews
changed its date to a nonharvest period. 71

Paul and Meals for the Dead

In the New Testament there are two major meals or communions. 72 The
one is called the Agape and the other the Eucharist. The Agape is well
known in Acts as the breaking of bread (2:42). 73 As we have seen, the
Agape took its dominical institution from the feeding of the five thousand
(Mark 6:30-44). Certainly in catacomb art and later ecclesiastical art,
the point of reference would be the miraculous feeding with its symbols of
fish, loaves of bread, wine, and baskets filled with rolls (plate 25). Before
the seventh century there is no portrayal of a Christian meal, or even
the Last Supper, that shows any Passover elements in it. They all refer
back to the feeding of the five thousand. The early church celebrated this
bread and fish meal for many centuries. The Agape was either identical
to that meal, or else the Agape disappeared.
The Eucharist, on the other hand, is an &vd|ivr|ai<; meal relating to the
death and resurrection of Christ. Although it is true that the eucharistic
meal celebrates a death and likely has taken on elements of the Jewish
meal for the dead, it cannot be maintained that the &v&u.vr|0~i<; Eucharist
is a meal for the dead Jesus. Rather, like the Passover meal, it is a uni-
versalized community commemoration with great ideological power. It
is not only a translocal (catholic) kinship meal, but an ideological meal.
Jesus cannot be localized.
The clearest instance of community formation in the New Testament
can be found in 1 Corinthians. There we find Paul struggling with local
community formation that threatens catholicity; or, perhaps, Paul has
learned at Corinth that local formation, even as fostered by an apostle,
can move in directions counter to the universal expectation. Three times
he reminded them that a particular practice was being done in all the
churches (7:17; 11:16; 14:33). Among other divisive problems, a cult
of the hero has formed around such fabled persons as Peter, Apollos,
and Paul himself. Against such local formations Paul wrote the first four
chapters of 1 Corinthians, stressing a theologia crucis that knows no local
concretizations. Of even greater importance, in chapters 5-15 he must deal
with competitive cult practices in Corinth. In chapter 8 he turns to their

71. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture, 3/4: 384-88.

72. Hans Lietzmann, Mass and the Lord's Supper: A Study in the History of the Liturgy,
trans. Dorothea H. G. Reeve (Leiden: Brill, 1979).
73. Andreas Lindemann, "The Beginnings of Christian Life in Jerusalem According to
the Summaries in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:42-47; 4:32-37; 5:12-16)," in Common
Life in the Early Church, ed. Julian V. Hills (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International,
1998), 202-18.
170 Trajectories of Inculturation

question regarding ei8coA,69mo<;, meat offered to idols. He assures them

that idol meat has no importance since there is no God save one. He does
admit there are many 0eoi and Kopioi (apparently synonyms for ei'ScoXov)
available to them, but actually there is only one God and one Lord (8:5-6).
Without giving value to the ei8coA,60moc;, he suggests that they act lovingly
toward each other by not creating divisions over practice (8:7-13).
In light of our previous discussion, one must make two observations
at this point. The prejudicial term ei8coA,60moc; need not refer only to
meat made available at shops connected with a given god or goddess.
To be sure, it can refer to such meat (1 Cor. 10:25). And, although
the Judeo-Christian term ei8coA,e?ov is rare, there are references to a ser-
apeion, which must refer to places where food is offered to Serapis.74
Still, we should not limit the word eiScoAxSOuToc, strictly to such practices.
The term ei8coA,ov did not mean false gods and goddesses to the Gen-
tiles. It referred positively to the presence or images of the special dead.
There is no reason to exclude this meaning, that is, for the special dead,
from the term ei8coA,69woc, as Paul used it. To the contrary, the discussion
of the table of 8aiu,ov(cov in 1 Cor. 10:14-22 requires it. Secondly, the
opposition of one God to many gods and lords simply states the con-
flict between local and catholic in a theological way. Polytheism, as a
configuration of local divinities, corresponds roughly to local autonomy.
Advocacy of one God opposes the ultimate value of local structures. It
calls for an ideological community over against kinship communities.
Paul was attacking idolatry as noncatholic.
However ambiguous he might have been in chapter 8 of 1 Corinthians,
Paul speaks plainly in chapter 10. There he recognizes that a cultic meal
around a local deity could be very damaging to the new Christian. He cites
as evidence the damage wrought by the Israelites when they ate around
the idol at the foot of Mount Sinai. Now he urges them not to participate
in such meals, not simply because they might injure a brother or sister,
but because such meals effectively build kinship community. In 10:16-17
he reminds them of their agape meal together and the faith formulas they
use on that occasion: "The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not the
KOivcovia of the blood of Christ?" and "The bread that we break, is it
not the KOivcovia of the body of Christ?" These formulas stress KOivcovia
rather than dv&u.vr|c>i<;. The offering is the community's bread and wine,
not the body and blood of Christ. The people bless the bread and the cup.
In verses 10:18-22 Paul makes it clear that the problem is not the
true God versus false gods, but two competing fellowship meals. He cites

74. See J. H. Moulton and G. Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Creek New Testament
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949), for the Koine use of these terms.
Food and Meals 111

once more the KOivcovia formed by the Israelites around the altar, and
then shifts to the KOivcovia created by Gentiles when they eat ei8coA,60DTO<;
around the table of 8aiux5via. Paul shifted from the word ei'8coA,ov to the
more specific term Saiuoviov, which refers to the power and presence of
the special dead. 75 Paul strictly forbids them to eat ei8coA,60mo<; at the
table of the special dead. One cannot drink of the cup of the 8ai|i6viov,
the special dead, and the cup of God at the same time. One cannot eat
at the table of the special dead and eat at God's table at the same time.
One cannot adhere to two cultic communities simultaneously.
Following a further discussion regarding possible divisions in the
community, Paul describes the agape meal as a means of healing such
problems (11:17-22). He concludes his argument for unity with a re-
hearsal of the words of the dvduvriaic, eucharist (11:23-27). In other
words, he offers in place of the 8ai|i6viov a resurrected special dead, Jesus
Christ, who cannot be localized. Paul countered the effectiveness of the
Corinthian cult of the dead by joining the Christian KOivcovia meal, the
Agape, with the Christian memorial of the universal special dead, Jesus
Christ. Like his Jewish ancestors before him, he tried to develop local
kinship community on an ideological basis. Paul failed. There remained
in early Christianity two celebrative meals, the dv&u,vnoi<; Eucharist and
the Agape. The dvd|ivr|Gic, was based on the Passover and Jesus' farewell
meal. The Agape was based on the feeding of the five thousand; its sym-
bols were bread, fish, and wine. The Agape was the kinship meal of early
Christianity. Eventually it did not compete with the table of 8aiu,6via; it
became the table of Sauiovia, not of pagan heroes, but of Christian saints
and martyrs. It was their presence and power that built new kinship struc-
tures throughout European cities. The evidence is unmistakable. However
much patristic literature may reflect on the meaning and practice of the
dvdu.vnoic; meal, the art and architecture of early Christianity portray
more often the agape meal with the dead, with its bread, fish, wine, and
baskets. It was Augustine and Ambrose who finally succeeded where Paul
failed; they brought together in one meal the dvd|ivr|oic, Eucharist of the
universal church and the Agape with its 8aiu,6viov of the martyr.

Meals and the Poor

Jewish Charity
According to the Hebrew Scriptures, the poor are fed from excess food
deliberately assigned to them. In the well-known example from the book

75. O. Waser, "Daimon," Paulys Realencyclopadie der klassischen Altertumswissen-

schaft (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1901), 4.2:2010-12.
172 Trajectories of Inculturation

of Ruth, Boaz instructed the workers to leave extra grain for Ruth. Al-
though there was surely a romantic intent in this order, leaving food
for those in need was the custom (Ruth 2; cf. Exod. 23:11; Lev. 19:10;
23:22). Closer to the New Testament period, Tobit says that he would
share his bread with the hungry:
I would give my food to the hungry and my clothing to the naked;
and if I saw the dead body of any of my people thrown out behind
the wall of Nineveh, I would bury it. (Tob. 1:17)
The author of Sirach says much the same: "The bread of the needy
is the life of the poor; whoever deprives them of it is a murderer" (Sir.
34:25; aproc; e7ti5eou£vcov £cof) TITCO%COV 6 ajtooxepcov awf)v av9pco7ioc,
aiii&TCOV, Sir. 34:21 LXX).

Feeding the Poor in the Jesus Tradition

The same Jewish expectation can be seen in the New Testament. In Luke's
parable of the rich man and Lazarus, it is assumed that the rich man and
his brothers ought to have known from scriptures and tradition that
sharing with the poor was expected (Luke 16:31). Zacchaeus, a Jew
(Luke 19:9), sharing a meal with Jesus felt compelled to share with the
poor, especially those whom he himself had impoverished (Luke 1 9 : 1 -
10). Similarly James condemns those who wish well for others, but do not
actually share their food with them (James 2:15-16). The Jesus tradition
throughout the Synoptic Gospels portrays Jesus as one who ate with all
types of people, who by eating together indeed developed community
across boundary lines. But even more, he urged his followers to invite
the poor to their meals:
He said also to the one who had invited him, "When you give a
luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers
or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in
return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet,
invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will
be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid
at the resurrection of the righteous." (Luke 14:12-14)
Paul does not directly utilize the Jesus tradition and does not often speak
of meals. But Paul's complaint about the celebration of the Lord's Supper,
the Agape, in 1 Cor. 11 presumably was based on the fact that the rich
did not share equally with the poor.
True to his program of deculturization, the author of John seriously
depreciates sharing with the poor. As we have seen, John devaluated the
feeding of the five thousand, a story that stresses the sharing of food,
Food and Meals 173

presumably with the poor. In John, Jesus says that the multitude was
interested only in the food and not the faith significance of Jesus as the
bread of life (John 6:26). Even more significantly, Judas is criticized for
sharing with the poor after a meal. After the dinner with Mary, Martha,
and Lazarus (John 12:1-8), Mary uses an expensive ointment to anoint
Jesus. Judas was scandalized by the failure to share with the poor. In
order to cover over the omission, the redactor claims that Judas was ac-
tually a thief rather than a compassionate Jew (12:6). Likewise at the
meal in John 13, when Judas leaves the room the disciples rather au-
tomatically assume he is buying something for the poor (13:29). These
strange accusations about Judas, who consistently misunderstands Jesus,
are directed toward members of the Johannine church who have failed
to share with the poor after the community meal, the Agape.
There are other hints in the New Testament. The story of the deacons
in Acts 6 would leave the impression that equality of distribution was to
be expected. So, according to Luke, deacons were appointed to distribute
food and resources.

The Agape in Early Christian Literature

We find references to the Agape in later literature, although association

with distribution of food does not occur as often.76 In Jude the opponents
are indeed accused of sharing in the Agape without concern for sharing
with others:

These are blemishes on your love-feasts [ay&TiaicJ, while they feast

with you without fear, feeding themselves. They are waterless
clouds carried along by the winds; autumn trees without fruit, twice
dead, uprooted. (Jude 12)

Second Peter probably reflects the same problem (assuming a reference

to the Agape), though failure to share with the poor is not specifically
mentioned:

They count it a pleasure to revel in the daytime. They are blots and
blemishes, reveling in their dissipation while they feast with you.
(2 Pet. 2:13)

Soon after the problem raised in Jude, Ignatius of Antioch referred

more explicitly to a similar problem in Smyrna. It is at the Agape that
compassion is shown. The opponents do not show that compassion:

76. EEC, s.v. "Agape," 16-17 .

174 Trajectories of Inculturation

They have no regard for the Agape; no care for the widow, or the
orphan, or the oppressed; for the bond, or for the free; for the
hungry, or for the thirsty. (Ign. Smyrn. 6:2b)
In fact, it may be that the opponents do not even attend the Agape:
They abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they do
not confess the Eucharist to be the flesh of our Saviour Jesus Christ,
who suffered for our sins, and whom the Father, of his goodness,
raised up again. Those, therefore, who speak against this gift of
God incur death in the midst of their disputes. But it were better
for them to celebrate the Agape, that they also might rise again.
(Ign. Smyrn. 6:2c-7:l)

The Agape as Social Concern

The function of the Agape as a means of social concern continued
through the second century.77 In Hippolytus (Trad. ap. 26) we find care
for the widows. In Tertullian (Apol. 39) the food is used to help the poor.
In the New Testament story of the feeding of the five thousand, no
practical reason is given for collecting the leftover fragments of food.
Nor can one say with any certainty whether the feeding gave rise to a
particular form of the Agape or whether the earliest churches, celebrat-
ing an Agape, formed the narrative that we call the feeding of the five
thousand. But the constant appearance in early Christian art of the bas-
kets around a table cannot be simply a memory of the biblical story, nor
should one suppose that it took seven baskets of bread to feed seven
people (plate 25). To be sure, the pictorial representation is symbolic. It
reflects the practice of the early church as it shares its agape meal with
outsiders, marginal people, and the poor. 78

77. Reicke, Diakonie, Festfreude, und Zelos.

78. A. Hamman, Vie liturgique et vie sociale.
 12

Gender Meaning and Roles

The problem of gender inculturation may be the most complex and

yet the most significant way in which the Jesus tradition affected the
Greco-Roman world. It is complex because the data are not consis-
tent in themselves and therefore have led to vastly differing secondary
evaluations.

Gender as Divine Symbol

The symbol system of gender comprises a significant aspect of any cul-

ture. It is the symbol that, for the most part, energizes human action,
though one must always ask whether economic and political consider-
ations have influenced the formation of the gender symbol. Invariably,
ultimate language about gender utilizes icons and words from the culture,
but normally does not simply mimic human sexuality.

Greco-Roman Gender Symbolism

In the Greco-Roman world the divine world operated like a human fam-
ily with father, mother, and child deities. The divine family was arbitrary,
if not chaotic, so the life of the gods did not serve as moral examples.
Male deities ruled the Olympic family, while powerful goddesses guided
creativity and fertility. With such ultimate gender definitions the human
roles would be clear. Men are the ultimate authorities and must suc-
ceed in making ultimate, public decisions. Women create cultural values
and future generations. They do that privately. Roman homes had fertil-
ity symbols (e.g., Venus), but the household altar also often held small
statues of the emperor, who represented at the human level the mas-
culine, political power. The incursion of Eastern religions altered the
Greco-Roman symbols of gender. None were family-oriented. Some (e.g.,
Isis, Dionysius) elevated the feminine experience to ultimate significance
(music, dance, ecstasy). Others (e.g., Mithra) elevated the masculine
experience (bonding, sacrifice).

175
176 Trajectories of Inculturation

Jewish Gender Symbolism

In the Jewish tradition there was one God, who was masculine. Or bet-
ter stated, the functional God, mn% was described as one and masculine
("Hear, O Israel: m.T is our DT6K, m.T is one" [Deut. 6:4]). The more
general God, DTDN, the universal God, was plural and therefore not
strictly male or female ("Let us make male and female in our image"
[see Gen. 1:26-27]). In Hebrew semiotics the masculine is the creator.
There is no divine family. Although many suppose that the predominance
of the masculine deity creates or supports a patriarchal society, the sym-
bolic meaning does not necessarily support that supposition. In Hebrew
semiotics the masculine creates and the feminine is created. More specif-
ically, though not exclusively, mrp is the husband and Israel, the people,
is the wife. Men in the society of this feminine people must be just as re-
ceptive to the masculine word of God as are women (note Eph. 5:23-24;
1 Cor. 11:3). Kings and leaders who refuse to hear and obey the word
are soundly punished — they along with the feminine people, Israel. The
"sons of God" are masculine, but the word may be brought to kings and
the people by male or female prophets-messengers. Since gender signifies
a symbiotic relationship between divinity and people, one cannot easily
alter society by changing the gender of the god. That is, a goddess of
Israel would result in a divinity receptive to the words of the masculine
people, rather than a feminine people that receives the words of the mas-
culine god. Such a gender symbol would be very close to Eastern fertility
religions like that of Isis. Because a masculine people can manipulate
goddesses (female), fertility religions have not particularly resulted in a
symbol of equality for the sexes.1
The interaction between Greco-Roman and Jewish symbol systems can
be fairly well documented. There is none. In Greco-Roman art there are
frequent manifestations of the divinities. Of particular interest is Venus
in her conch, Neptune with his trident, Selene the moon goddess, Apollo
the sun god. In Jewish art there are no pictorial manifestations of mrp
or OTI^N. God may be in command, but there is no symbolic gender
definition.
Because Jesus was a male Jewish person, there was no reason for early
Christians to shun artistic representations. At first Jesus was a wonder
worker, much like Hercules, but eventually he took on the characteristics
of a philosopher, then an emperor.2 That is, Jesus replaced the lares of the
family altar. In addition to the emperor, filius dei, he invaded the symbol

1. Judith Plaskow, "Jewish Theology," in Feminist Perspectives on Jewish Studies, ed.

Lynn Davidman and Shelly Tenenbaum (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 62-84.
2. P. Beskow, Rex Gloriae: The Kingship of Christ in the Early Church (Stockholm:
Almquist and Wiksell, 1962).
Gender Meaning and Roles 177

of Apollo, the sun god (plate 22). Eventually the masculine picture of
Jesus was known as God, particularly the Pantocrator. These semiotic
shifts necessarily caused a shift in the way gender was seen.

Gender Roles in the Greco-Roman World

In regard to meals we have already noted the strict distinction between

private and public in Hellenistic society. Women were not permitted to
appear at meals, unless the meals were private (with the immediate fam-
ily). Women who did cook, serve, and entertain could be considered
public women, or Tiopvcu. Women who were slaves or had been slaves
and women who had public professions were automatically 7iopvai.3 The
role of women did change during the late republic and early empire of
the Roman world, marked perhaps by the repeal of the restrictive Op-
pian Law in 195 B.C.E. 4 Women were more free to act in public, to own
property, and to be educated. Much of the attack on women during this
period comes from intellectuals who resented this new-found freedom.

Gender Roles in Judaism

Although few societies have seriously altered the private nature of women
and the public nature of men, still, the Jewish society did not prac-
tice the same strictures as the Greco-Roman. To be sure, women were
subordinate to male authority. Male offspring were preferred to female
(Gen. 19:31-38). Daughters were given in marriage by their fathers (Gen.
29:21-30; m. Ketub. 4.4-5). 5 Because of their sexual function, women
could be unclean (Leviticus). But women were not excluded from pub-
lic meetings (e.g., m. Ker. 1.3-7; Luke 2:41). 6 In the temple there was
a court for women through which the men would pass. Although there
were no female hierarchical leaders in Israel, there were women leaders
(Miriam, Deborah) and women heroes (Judith, Jael, Tamar, Rahab, and
Esther).7 Men and women shared the same Passover table and eventually
worshiped in the same synagogue.

3. Luise Schottroff, Let the Oppressed Go Free: Feminist Perspectives on the New
Testament (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1993).
4. Schottroff, Let the Oppressed Go Free, 80-87; Corley, Private Women, 12.
5. Tal Wan, Jewish Women in Greco-Roman Palestine (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson,
1998), 49.
6. Ilan, Jewish Women, 180.
7. Tikva Frymer-Kensky, "The Bible and Women's Studies," in Feminist Perspectives
on Jewish Studies, 16-39; Susan Niditch, "Portrayals of Women in the Hebrew Bible,"
in Jewish Women in Historical Perspective, ed. Judith R. Baskin (Detroit: Wayne State
University Press, 1991) 25-45.
178 Trajectories of Inculturation

Judaism at the time of the New Testament was much more flexible.
Again, in terms of cause and effect, one cannot determine whether the
more open attitude toward gender derived from earlier Judaism or the
influence of a more liberal Roman attitude.
There are two major resources for determining the role of women in
Judaism in the first century: the presence of God-fearers (especially in the
writings of Luke) and the evidence of inscriptions.

God-fearers
Along with the consensus about God-fearers as the bridge between Jew
and Gentile (see chapter 1), another consensus assumes that Luke has a
deep compassion for the poor and the marginalized. Among the marginal-
ized he includes women, so that he mentions women far more often than
the other Synoptics. In the Gospel of Luke there are forty-two passages
that concern women or female motifs. Of these, twenty-three are peculiar
to Luke. It is true that Luke does not place the same emphasis on women
in his second book, Acts.8 Nevertheless, generally speaking, the consen-
sus runs as follows: (1) Luke corrects the picture of Mark and Matthew
by including women in the narrative; (2) the inclusion of women reflects
the compassion and equanimity of Luke; (3) in fact, however, many of the
God-fearers were indeed women; (4) for several reasons the God-fearing
women could not become proselytes; (5) prevented from being Jews many
female God-fearers heard Paul gladly and responded positively; (6) many
of the God-fearing women were wealthy or influential; (7) the Jews were
angry with Paul and Barnabas for "stealing" their highly prized, wealthy,
God-fearing women. In the Lukan speeches of Paul in Acts 13, we should
assume that the masculine plural addresses &v8pec, 'Iapar|A,Txai and &v8pec;
dcSeAxpoi, moi yevouq 'APpaqi include women. 9

Women Leaders in Jewish Inscriptions

Proof for the presence of women can also be derived from inscrip-
tions that include women as leaders. Trebilco notes four early synagogue
inscriptions from Asia Minor that mention women as leaders:10
1. Smyrna, Ionia: Rufinia, a Jewess is identified as the apxicwaycoyoc,
at Smyrna.

8. Ivoni Richter Reimer, Women in the Acts of the Apostles: A Feminist Liberation
Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995).
9. Jacob Jervell argues that the term does refer only to men, even though Jewish
women are present; the men represent the women, so only they are addressed ("Daughters
of Abraham," in The Unknown Paul: Essays on Luke-Acts and Early Christian History
[Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984], 146-57).
10. Trebilco, Jewish Communities, 104-13.
Gender Meaning and Roles 179

2. Myndos, Caria: Theopempte is identified as the apxiom/aycoyoc; at

Myndos.
3. Aphrodisias, Caria: On face A of the stele previously mentioned,
lines 9-10 mention a certain 'IarjX 7tpoo~T&xr|c; and her son who are
members of the SeKCxvicc responsible for building the soup kitchen.
Following the discovery of the stele, Jael was at first identified as a
man (4 Ezra 10:43), but given the list of famous Jewish names on
the stele, it would be much more likely that Jael is the woman of
Judg. 4-5. 1 1 In that case, a Jewish woman was chair (7tpoatdi;r|Q)
of the building committee commemorated by the stele.

4. Phocaea, Ionia: Tation, daughter of Straton, built a synagogue with

her own funds and was honored by the Jewish community with
a xpvccp orap&vcp m i TtpoeSpioc. Although the seat of honor likely
carried no administrative responsibilities, the inscription does show
the presence of a highly influential women in the synagogue.

In addition to these inscriptions from Asia Minor, Bernadette Brooten

lists approximately thirty more from the Mediterranean area that men-
tion women as the head of a synagogue.12 Although the issue of female
leadership does not directly impinge on Paul's speeches in Acts 13, there
is a corollary argument. It is widely assumed that women played a more
prominent social and political role in Asia Minor than in other parts
of the Mediterranean world. 13 These inscriptions do verify that women
played leadership roles in Asia Minor synagogues as well (note that the
Jewish Christian Tabitha was 7tA,f|pr|c; epycov dyocGcov, Acts 9:36). These
inscriptions and others indicate that women were held in high regard for
their contribution to the life of the community and especially, in these
cases, the life of the synagogue.14 Capitolina of Tralles (see chapter 2)
is, unfortunately, the only non-Jewish God-fearer woman mentioned in

11. Bernadette J. Brooten, "The Gender of 'IonA, in the Jewish Inscription from Aphro-
disias," in Of Scribes and Scrolls: Studies on the Hebrew Bible, Intertestamentary Judaism,
and Christian Origins presented to John Strugnell on the Occasion of His Sixtieth Birth-
day, ed. H. W. Attridge, J. J. Collins, and T. H. Tobin (Lanham, Md.: University Press of
America, 1990), 163-173.
12. Bernadette J. Brooten, Women Leaders in the Ancient Synagogue: Inscriptional
Evidence and Background Issue (Chico, Cailf.: Scholars Press, 1982), 23.
13. Trebilco, Jewish Communities, 113-26.
14. It is argued that the titles for females are not honorific, but relate to their bene-
faction: Ross S. Kraemer, Her Share of the Blessings: Women's Religions among Pagans,
Jews, and Christians in the Graeco-Roman World (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 87; Riet
van Bremen, "Women and Wealth," in Images of Women in Antiquity, ed. A. Cameron
and A. Kuhrt (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1985), 236-37; Margaret Y. Mac-
Donald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion: The Power of the Hysterical Woman
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 35.
180 Trajectories of Inculturation

an Asia Minor inscription. She was mentioned, presumably, because she

fulfilled her pledge.

Jewish Women in the Book of Acts

Though the evidence is slim, we would assume that there were in the
synagogue at Pisidian Antioch Gentile women known as God-fearers,
some of whom could be called e\)a%fi|iova^. However obnoxious the
theology of Paul might have been to some, it does seem likely that the
obdurate Jews of Acts 13:50 were angry primarily because they were
losing the loyalty and beneficence of the God-fearing women and the
leading men.
The role of leading women in relationship to a synagogue is mentioned
only in Thessalonica where, after speaking in the synagogue, some Jews
were convinced as well as xcov t e cePojievcov 'EAAfyvoov 7tA,fj0oq TIOAA), yu-
VCCIKCOV xe TCOV Ttpcoxcov CUK oAaycci (17:4). In this text, though, the leading
women are not necessarily identified with the God-fearers, a category
that presumably included both men and women. The only God-fearing
woman mentioned by name in Acts is Lydia of Thyatira who lived in
Philippi. As was his custom, Paul went first to the "synagogue," desig-
nated in this case as a 7[pocei)%f|, a place of prayer, where he spoke to the
rate, ouveA^oucaic, yuvai^iv (16:13). 15 The issue here is complex. Were
there only women at the place of prayer? Did Paul speak only to the
women (and not to the obdurate Jews)? Was the term npoce,v%r\ used for
assemblies of Jews when there were not enough persons, or men, for a
legitimate synagogue? These much debated issues cannot be solved, but,
in any case, Paul found there Lydia, a o~epO|ievr) TOV Geov. She was not
mentioned as a leading citizen or as a wealthy donor, 16 but she did in-
vite Paul to her home, where probably the first house church in Philippi
assembled.

Gender Roles in the Jesus Tradition

The Jesus tradition varies from Gospel to Gospel (including the Gospel of
Thomas), yet there is enough similarity to draw some conclusions. From
time to time we notice that the Greco-Roman attitude holds also for
Palestine. Just as the book of Esther portrays a society in which highly
placed women perform for the symposium, so the story of Herod and
the daughter of Herodias reflects the same tradition. Perhaps even the

15. Reimer, Women in the Acts of the Apostles, 78-85.

16. She had only one name, so was obviously not from a leading family (see Schottroff,
Let the Oppressed Go Free). Lydia was apparently a worker in an industry known as dirty
work (see Reimer, Women in the Acts of the Apostles, 101-7).
Gender Meaning and Roles 181

narrative of the Pharisee and the sinning woman fits the same pattern.
Otherwise, in the Jesus movement women do not appear to be severely
hindered by the private/public dichotomy. According to Luke women
accompanied Jesus on his mission trips.

Soon afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming

and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve
were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil
spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven
demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod's steward
Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided [8IT|K6VOI)V]
for them out of their resources. (Luke 8:1-3)

According to Luke the women served as deacons to the missionaries (or to

Jesus [against Vaticanus]). Presumably the women left their families and
were using their own resources to support the nascent Jesus movement.
The notice about supportive women matches the picture of women seen
in Acts, and is corroborated by Mark's comment about the women at
the crucifixion:

There were also women looking on from a distance; among them

were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger
and of Joses, and Salome. These used to follow him and provided
[8IT]K6VO\)V] for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many
other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem.
(Mark 15:40-41)

Placed in proper context, women clearly played an important, public role

in the Jesus movement through most of the first century. The aforemen-
tioned women witnessed the crucifixion (Mark 15:40, 47) and were the
first to see the empty tomb (Mark 16:1-8); that is, they were primary
sources for the kerygmatic Heilstatsache (the absence of the women in
1 Cor. 15:5 still lacks adequate clarification).
The Jesus tradition does not hold to the Jewish sense of female un-
cleanness. The woman with the flow of blood was not rebuked for
touching Jesus (Mark 5:34), nor did Jesus refrain from touching and
healing a young girl presumed dead (Mark 5:41). Likewise, peripheral
women were accepted. Jesus was categorized as a q>iA,oc, teAxovcov KOU
d(iaprcoA,Sv (Luke 7:34). The saying then is punctuated by Luke with
the story of Simon the Pharisee and the woman of the city who makes
public appearances (she is never called a prostitute, but given the public/
private dichotomy, it does not matter).
182 Trajectories of Inculturation

Gender Roles in the Letters of Paul

While the Jesus tradition transcended both Jewish and Roman gender
mores, Paul is, on the one hand, more directly revolutionary, yet, on the
other hand, more concerned that the revolution not be visible to society
at large. One starts with the startling passage from Galatians:

As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed your-

selves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no
longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of
you are one in Christ Jesus. (Gal. 3:27-28)

Within the Jesus movement basic social divisions — ethnic, economic,

and gender — no longer apply. Although Paul did not apply his vision to
society at large, he did consistently call for social balance in the church.
The letter to Philemon serves as an excellent example of Paul's style.
Paul insists that Philemon and Onesimus are brothers Kai ev aocpKi Kal
ev leopico (Philem. 16), yet never suggests that Philemon should free Ones-
imus. Likewise, in 1 Cor. 7:17-24 Paul makes it a rule (or order) that
all should stay in the condition in which they were called: (eKacroc, ev
tfj KA,f|oei fj eKA,fi0r|, ev Tawn uevexco (7:20). In Christ it does not really
matter (7:22).

Women in Leadership
On the more private level (family and faith community) the radi-
cal change is obvious. In the Pauline churches women are not only
functionaries, but they also speak publicly and interpret the faith tra-
dition. Although 1 Cor. 11:2-16 has caused considerable conflict for
interpreters, the reader must not overlook verse 5a: Ttaacc 5e yuvf) Ttpoaei)-
%ou,evn fj 7ipo(pr|T;e'UO'uaa. Public churchwomen may not have dressed as
Paul would have liked, but nevertheless, they led the gathered commu-
nity in prayer and interpreted the faith to them. This was true not only
for Corinth. Phoebe was the minister for the church at Cenchreae (Rom.
16:1-2). Like her Palestinian sisters, she supported the Jesus movement
with her resources and even contemplated further support in Rome. It
was in Phoebe's home that the Cenchreae church met, so she was the des-
ignated minister (EDViotrpi 8e •uu.Tv Ooipnv xf)v &8eA,(pfiv f|u.cdv, owocv
[Kai] 8i&Kovov tfjc, eiatA/natac, xfjc; ev Keyxpeau;, 16:1). One suspects that
the same was true for Prisca (or, Priscilla), since she is so often mentioned
first in the Prisca and Aquila team. The house where their group met
presumably belonged to both of them (Tf)V K(XT' OTKOV OUTCOV eKK^natav,
Rom. 16:5), but surely Prisca was equally the minister (Rom. 16:3-4;
see also 1 Cor. 16:19; 2 Tim. 4:19; Acts 18:2, 18, 26). Although Paul
Gender Meaning and Roles 183

cannot be responsible for the apostleship of Junia (since she preceded

him), nevertheless, only Paul mentions her, or any woman, for that mat-
ter, as an apostle (Rom. 16:7) In a church Paul did found, two women,
Euodia and Syntyche, own the house where the Philippian community
meets. Though they had worked with Paul in the spread of the gospel,
now some conflict has arisen. Paul asks another person, likely a woman
(cbtpye, a very close female friend [or Zti^uye]) to mediate the problem
(Phil. 4:2-3).

Family
In regard to family, Paul's sense of the marriage covenant has no peer in
the ancient literature. In Hebrew anthropology the body (oSjia) refers
to the corporate group, not necessarily to an individual being. In Pauline
literature ocojia TO\> xpiGToft would be the most obvious example. The
individual derives identity from the OG0|icx (1 Cor. 5:3; 10:17; 11:27-32;
12:12-31). So in marriage the identity of the husband depends on the
action of the wife and the identity of the wife depends on the action of
the husband. There is no difference:
The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and like-
wise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority
over her own body [ocopxxxoQ, corporate identity], but the husband
does; likewise the husband does not have authority over his own
body [acoiiaxo^; corporate identity], but the wife does.
(1 Cor. 7:3-4)
In the difficult eleventh chapter of 1 Corinthians Paul makes the same
point. In the body of Christ (the Lord) men and women are not separate
from each other {n\r\v owe yvvf] %copiq dv8pO£ oine dcvrp %copic; ywaiKOQ
ev KDpico, 1 Cor. 11:11).
It is very difficult to live concrete lives "in the Lord" without any so-
cial interaction. It is Paul's genius to urge that the first Christians accept
cultural norms but live in another social loyalty. Needless to say, dual
citizenship can lead to serious misunderstanding — then and now. In the
Jesus tradition second marriage was essentially forbidden because the
acouxx identity was formed by the original marriage (Mark 10:2-9; Mat-
thew missed the point [Matt. 19:9]). In his teaching, Paul conveyed that
Jesus tradition. Regarding remarriage his slogan, as repeated by some Co-
rinthians, "Better not to touch a [second] woman [at all than to destroy
your identity as a man]" (1 Cor. 7:1) was accepted by the Corinthians,
but in ways unacceptable to society at large. Some previously married
Christians could not discipline their sexual dynamics. Their promiscu-
ous behavior was noticeable. Consequently Paul was forced, reluctantly,
184 Trajectories of Inculturation

to modify the Jesus tradition. Demarried people might do well to marry

(1 Cor. 7:2), though they would do better to remain demarried, as he
himself is (1 Cor. 7:8). Others chose a more subtle and difficult solution.
They lived with companions as man and wife, but did not engage in in-
tercourse. While the presence of families might satisfy public curiosity
about the new community, Paul suspected that it had to lead to a more
public promiscuity (1 Cor. 7:5).

Marriage
The issue of marriage itself is more complicated. In 1 Corinthians 7, start-
ing in verse 25, Paul shifts from remarriage to first marriage. Of course
it is perfectly all right to marry (7:28), though following the "remain as
you are" logic even the single person would do well not to marry (7:26-
27). Paul argues that the forms of this world are passing away, and one
should wait to see the new life. One aspect of the new life is the new
relationship between men and women. In the new age, women are not
possessions. So, though society expects daughters to be passed to hus-
bands by their fathers, Paul urges fathers in the Lord to allow daughters
time to make their own decision:
If anyone thinks he is dealing inappropriately with his unmarried
daughter, since she already is past the age for marrying, and there-
fore ought to do something, let him do as he wishes. He does not
sin; let the couple marry. But the one who can stand firm in his
heart, without any distress, having the power to do as he wishes,
and has already made up his mind not to pledge his unmarried
daughter, he does well. So the one who gives his daughter in mar-
riage does well, but the one who does not give in marriage does
even better.17 (1 Cor. 7:36-38)
There are other borderline instances. Women could pray and preach
in the local community, but Paul did not wish the women to dress in a
way scandalous to the local society. So he insisted that, when the women
spoke, they cover their head. To be sure, his arguments may appear to
be so many non sequiturs, but the point is clear: your private role in
the church does not allow you to alter your public appearance (1 Cor.
11:2-16). 18
A more difficult passage is 1 Cor. 14:34-35. If it is genuinely from
Paul, it follows the same direction we have already noted. While women

17. Cf. the alternate translation of the NRSV, and the notes on 7:36-38 in The New
Oxford Annotated Bible.
18. "Because of the angels" (1 Cor. 11:10) is the social issue (Snyder, First Corinthi-
ans, 49).
Gender Meaning and Roles 185

may take leadership roles, it is inappropriate for them to be involved

in the ecstatic, unstructured part of the worship, particularly when out-
siders have walked in (14:23). Obviously, for the sake of social — that is,
public — decorum Paul is trying to limit the ecstatic expressions (14:12,
19, 26-27). The outside world might assume that the Jesus movement
originated in religious hysteria.19

Gender Roles in the Gospel of John

Though the stories of the Fourth Gospel are often used to indicate the
favorable attitude of Jesus toward women, that would be a misunder-
standing of the purpose of the author. 20 In fact, women are not necessarily
treated favorably. Jesus speaks quite sharply to his mother (2:4); 21 the
Samaritan women never does understand the nature of Jesus, even though
she brought others to him (4:29); Martha remained an end-time-oriented
Christian (11:24). 22 There were no women in the traveling entourage,
nor were there women mentioned as present at significant events like the
final supper, the resurrection appearances in the upper room, or the last
"Eucharist" beside the lake.
On the other hand, the significant women of the Gospel of John stand
apart from the normal roles played by women in contemporary material.
Those who may be classified as literary characters (the Samaritan woman,
Mary, Martha, and Mary Magdelene) do not act as oikos women. 23 They
do not have families; there are no children; in encounters they act as men
might have; and they seem to be geographically mobile. 24 In any case,
there is no woman in the New Testament who matches John's portrayal
of Mary of Bethany. Unlike her sister, Martha, Mary does understand
the reality offered by Jesus. But even more important, she exhibits that
intimacy with Jesus that marks the Johannine believer. In the Gospel
there are at least two such believers: the Beloved Disciple and Mary. The
Beloved Disciple, chosen first by Jesus, is never named and serves as the
implied author (1:40; 21:20-25). On the cross Jesus designates him as
the Johannine heir apparent (19:26). In addition to being a permanent

19. MacDonald, Early Christian Women.

20. See Robert Gordon Maccini, Her Testimony Is True: Women as Witnesses according
to John, Journal of the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series 125 (Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), especially the concluding chapter.
21. Judith M. Lieu, "The Mother of the Son in the Fourth Gospel," JBL 117 (1998):
61-77.
22. Graydon F. Snyder, "The Social Context of the Ironic Dialogues in the Gospel of
John," in Putting Body and Soul Together (Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International,
1997), 3 - 2 3 .
23. Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel.
24. Van Tilborg, Imaginative Love in John, 196-99.
186 Trajectories of lnculturation

member of the disciple band, the Beloved Disciple is called beloved be-
cause of the intimacy with Jesus; that is, at the final supper he reclined
in the breast of Jesus (13:23). Even more intimate is Mary's washing the
feet of Jesus with ointment and drying them with her hair (12:3). The
author of the Fourth Gospel wishes to show that appropriation of the
Jesus presence comes through intimate involvement rather than belief or
service.
Although the primary narrative of the Gospel stresses the intimacy of
the Beloved Disciple and Mary of Bethany, one must not ignore another
major character, Mary Magdalene. At the empty tomb Mary Magdalene
also expresses intimacy with Jesus. She addresses him as Rabbouni, "My
dear Master," and moves quickly to embrace him (20:16-17). Who is
Mary Magdalene? Some suspect that there is only one "literary" Mary,
so that Mary of Bethany and Mary Magdalene are one and the same. 25
To have only one Mary makes the narrative cleaner — only one intimate
female, as only one intimate male. But Mary Magdalene has a special
role. She is the first to see the resurrected Lord. The contrast between
the author of the Fourth Gospel and the accepted kerygma (1 Cor. 15:5)
could not be more poignantly stated. In the kerygma the resurrection
is a fact first observed by Peter. In the Gospel of John the resurrection
is intimacy expressed. But intimacy with the resurrected Jesus cannot
be achieved physically, so Mary Magdalene cannot touch the one she
loves. From this point on the Johannine intimacy comes through the
Spirit (1 John 4:13).

Gender in the Early Church

The cultural impact of gender in the Jesus tradition has been difficult to
assess and complex in any case. There are several reasons. First, there is
no single pattern. As Christianity became more firm in its variations, the
issue of gender was more clearly differentiated. Second, it is difficult to as-
sess the role of gender in the Roman culture at the end of the first century.
Third, our attitude has been formed by men writing in the first centuries
and by male scholars in this century. Only recently have female scholars
begun to give us reevaluations. That process is far from complete.

Household Codes
There can be little doubt that official Christianity softened the radical
nature of the earlier interpreters of the Jesus tradition. The presence of

25. Sandra M. Schneiders, "Women in the Fourth Gospel and the Role of Women in
the Contemporary Church," Biblical Theology Bulletin 12 (1982): 35-45.
Gender Meaning and Roles 187

the Haustafeln (household codes) should be interpreted as an attempt to

defend nascent Christianity. The household codes call for subordination
of citizens to the emperor, of wives to husbands, of children to parents,
and of slaves to masters (Col. 3:18-4:1; Eph. 5:21-6:9; 1 Pet. 2:11-3:12;
1 Tim. 2:8-15; 5:1-2; 6:1-2; Titus 2:1-10; 3:1). Although many of these
codes do not match Greek codes, such as Aristotle's, still, the similarity
is close enough to bear the explanation that Christian leaders adopted
them either to maintain order in the churches or to avoid criticism.26 As
an attempt to defend against Christian heteronomy, they infer that there
were Christians who did not recognize the authority of the state, did not
consider women subordinate to men, did not accept the right of parents
to determine the faith of their offspring, and accepted slaves as equal
partners in the faith community.27 Of course, such alternative Christian
groups surely did exist. Although it is difficult to extricate structural in-
formation from the gnostic materials, it would appear that the gnostic
Christians did not recognize a hierarchy and did not differentiate role
models for the genders.28 Likewise, the communities that produced the
apocryphal Acts also must have recognized female leadership, stressed
the independence of women (chastity), rejected social norms and the au-
thority of the state, advocated poverty, and stressed divine healing.29 The
household codes and Pastoral Epistles could well have been written to
counter these early Christian groups. They value authority, assume mar-
riage and family, address persons of wealth, oppose excessive asceticism
(e.g., no wine), and disallow the membership of younger women among
the organization of widows. If the early Christian writers (especially the
Pastorals and 1 Peter) opposed radical Christian groups, 30 can we assume
that the radical groups actually reflected the process of acculturation?
That is, has the Roman culture moved more toward independence for
women, celibacy, rejection of family and wealth? Clearly not. The au-
thors of the apocryphal Acts make it quite clear that they (the women of
the Acts) are despised by the Romans. The Romans accused these Chris-
tians of being sorcerers. They mean by that epithet that the Christians
reject authority and disturb society by rejecting sex and marriage. 31

26. Balch, Let Wives Be Submissive. See Edgar Krentz, "Order in the 'House' of God:
The Haustafel in 1 Peter 2:11-3:12," in Common Life in the Early Church, ed. Julian V.
Hills (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1998), 279-85.
27. J. E. Crouch, The Origin and Intention of the Colossian Haustafel (Gottingen:
Vandenhoeck &c Ruprecht, 1972); David C. Verner, The Household of God: The Social
World of the Pastoral Epistles (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1983).
28. Elaine Pagels, The Gnostic Gospels (New York: Random House, 1979), 48-69.
29. Stevan L. Davies, The Revolt of the Widows: The Social World of the Apocryphal
Acts (Carbondale and Edwardsville, 111.: Southern Illinois University Press, 1980).
30. Verner, The Household of God.
31. Davies, The Revolt of the Widows.
188 Trajectories of Inculturation

On the other hand, the codes may have considerable meaning for the
process of inculturation. The codes were ostensibly written for the oikos
of God. The codes do not reflect a waning of the original Gospel, an
acculturation to the Roman world. But instead, the later New Testa-
ment materials are attempting to stave off persecution and thereby let
the new church be the church. In that way gradual inculturation could
occur.32 Inculturation of the Jesus tradition regarding language, social
structure, architecture, food, calendar — all could occur because the faith
community was offered relative peace. It gained that peace by appearing
to organize the oikos according to acceptable Greco-Roman standards.
However, gender issues did not fare so well. One might plausibly argue
that the strategy of conformity was effective and at the same time dis-
astrous. When the church shifted from a private oikos, where women
could exercise leadership, to a public polis, where female leadership was
unacceptable, the church began to adapt the very codes it had earlier
feigned to accept.33

The Jesus Tradition and Gender Roles in the Early Church

The Jesus tradition deeply affected gender roles in the early church. As
long as the faith community met in house churches and only loosely rec-
ognized the authority of the state, men and women more or less shared
leadership roles. But when the church became the state religion, when
Christians met in basilicas, when Jesus became the emperor, then women
once again became subordinate or more private. Splinter groups like the
Gnostics, the Montanists, and the communities of the apocryphal Acts
either disappeared or were forced to dissociate from the mainline Chris-
tians. Nevertheless, there were some cultural alterations. The continued
interest in virginity and widows by Tertullian, Cyprian, and especially
Jerome, meant that women were not to be held subordinate under the
potestas of the father or the manus of the husband. A woman was en-
couraged to be free. Still, although the majority of Christian women
participated freely in a private family life and in the local faith com-
munity, their role in public was not likely greatly altered by the Jesus
tradition.

32. Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City.

33. Karen Jo Torjesen, When Women Were Priests: Women's Leadership in the Early
Church and the Scandal of Their Subordination in the Rise of Christianity (San Francisco:
HarperSanFrancisco, 1993).
 73

Health and Medicine

Health and Healing in the Hebrew Scriptures

Health and illness in the Hebrew Scriptures is a unilateral matter. God
gives health and punishes with ill health. There is no hint of environmen-
tal causation and no instance of rational observation of the ill person.
Divine causation was not peculiar to the people of Israel. Its roots were
deep in Near Eastern culture. 1
The tradition of Exodus makes it clear that health is a gift to God's
people as they heed God's laws and ordinances:
There the Lord made for them a statute and an ordinance and there
he put them to the test. He said, "If you will listen carefully to the
voice of the Lord your God, and do what is right in his sight, and
give heed to his commandments and keep all his statutes, I will
not bring upon you any of the diseases that I brought upon the
Egyptians; for I am the Lord who heals you." (Exod. 15:25-26)

The Egyptians were ill because they were not God's people, though God
brought disease and health to any who disobeyed:
See now that I, even I, am he; there is no god beside me. I kill and
I make alive; I wound and I heal; and no one can deliver from my
hand. (Deut. 32.39)
Despite the threatening posture, however, in the final analysis healing is
a product of God's love (ion) for Israel:
Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my
arms; but they did not know that I healed them. (Hos. 11:3)
And finally, health depends on one's trusting relationship with God:

1. Hector Avalos, Illness and Health Care in the Ancient Near East, Harvard Semitic
Monographs, no. 54 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995); P. Humbert, "Maladie et medicine
dans l'Ancient Testament," RHPR 44 (1964): 1-29; Claus Westermann, "Heilung und
Heil in der Gemeinde aus der Sicht des Alten Testament," Wege zum Menschen 27 (1975):
1-12; Joseph Zias, "Death and Disease in Ancient Israel," BA 54, no. 3 (1991): 146-59.

189
190 Health and Medicine

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.
They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by
the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall
stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not
cease to bear fruit
Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be
saved; for you are my praise. (Jer. 17:8-14)

Even more powerfully, the prophets portray health as a result of

God's vicarious suffering for us, a precursor of some New Testament
perspectives:

Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet
we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But
he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his
bruises we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have
all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity
of us all. (Isa. 53:4-6)

As we have seen, the prophets also considered health as an end-time state

even for those who otherwise have been disabled or chronically ill. The
catena of Isaiah became an organizational principle for the Gospels and
perhaps some early Christian communities.

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the
deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue
of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the
wilderness, and streams in the desert. (Isa. 35:5-6)

There are two possible instances of health by observation. The first

would be sanitation near the camp. In Deuteronomy there is a regulation
for disposing of excrement:

You shall have a designated area outside the camp to which you
shall go. With your utensils you shall have a trowel; when you
relieve yourself outside, you shall dig a hole with it and then cover
up your excrement. Because the Lord your God travels along with
your camp, to save you and to hand over your enemies to you,
therefore your camp must be holy, so that he may not see anything
indecent among you and turn away from you. (Deut. 23:12-14)

Obviously it is a health regulation, but even here the rationale is based on

the division between "clean and unclean." Good health is not mentioned.
Health and Medicine 191

The other potential health issue has already been considered. Leviticus
lists foods that are clean and unclean. Many suppose that these pro-
hibitions are based on health observations. For example, readers have
frequently supposed that the prohibition against pork reflects observa-
tions about the spread of trichinosis. Actually, the food prohibitions never
mention health, and most prohibitions would be difficult to defend on
the basis of any potential disease.
There are not many healing narratives in the Hebrew Scriptures. The
few we find corroborate the divine dicta and the laws: God gives health
and disease. The story of Elisha and the king of Syria, Namaan, illus-
trates well the Hebrew belief system. Namaan had heard that Elisha
could heal, but was reluctant to wash in the Jordan because it seemed
so mundane — the only requirement was obedience to God as relayed by
God's spokesperson, Elisha. Nevertheless, Namaan did follow directions
and was healed of leprosy by God (2 Kings 5; see Lev. 13-14).

Health and Healing in Second Temple Judaism

There is little difference between the Hebrew Scriptures and later Ju-
daism. And there are very few healing narratives. The most striking
would be, of course, the strange transformation of Nebuchadnezzar
into a composite animal (Dan. 4:28-33) ordered by a (pcovf] &K %OV
otipavov (4:31). After the ordeal was over Nebuchadnezzar, in his prayer
of thanksgiving, blessed and praised the Gedq TSV Gecov KOti Ktipioq xcov
icupicov m i PaoiAe\)cJ TCOV pacriAicov (Dan. 4:37 LXX).
The story of Tobit is more bizarre. Tobit was lying in his courtyard
with his face uncovered. Bird droppings fell on his eyes and blinded him.
He attempted to have the blindness cured through medicine:

I did not know that there were sparrows on the wall; their fresh
droppings fell into my eyes and produced white films. I went to
physicians to be healed, but the more they treated me with oint-
ments the more my vision was obscured by the white films, until I
became completely blind. For four years I remained unable to see.
All my kindred were sorry for me, and Ahikar took care of me for
two years before he went to Elymais. (Tob. 2:10)

At the end of the story Tobit is cured by fish gall applied to his eyes, a
cure prescribed by Raphael the angel:
Then Tobit got up and came stumbling out through the court-
yard door. Tobias went up to him, with the gall of the fish in his
hand, and holding him firmly, he blew into his eyes, saying, "Take
192 Health and Medicine

courage, father." With this he applied the medicine on his eyes, and
it made them smart. Next, with both hands he peeled off the white
films from the corners of his eyes. Then Tobit saw his son and threw
his arms around him, and he wept and said to him, "I see you, my
son, the light of my eyes!" (Tob. 11:10-14)

Whatever the medicinal value of fish gall, Tobit recognized the source
of the healing:

Blessed be God, and blessed be his great name, and blessed be all
his holy angels. May his holy name be blessed throughout all the
ages. Though he afflicted me, he has had mercy upon me. Now I
see my son Tobias! (Tob. 11:14-15)

Raphael the angel says, "And now God sent me to heal y o u . . . " (12:14).
Tobit had consulted physicians. Given the theocentric nature of well-
being in the biblical material, physicians seldom appear, and when they
do they are ineffective. For example, the woman with the flow of blood
had wasted her money on doctors. Health derives from God not medical
care (but note one exception: Matt. 9:12). In Judaism a major excep-
tion would be Sirach, with the remarkably positive attitude toward
physicians:

Honor physicians for their services, for the Lord created them;
for their gift of healing comes from the Most High, and they are
rewarded by the king. The skill of physicians makes them distin-
guished, and in the presence of the great they are admired. The Lord
created medicines out of the earth, and the sensible will not despise
them. Was not water made sweet with a tree in order that its power
might be known? And he gave skill to human beings that he might
be glorified in his marvelous works. By them the physician heals
and takes away pain; the pharmacist makes a mixture from them.
God's works will never be finished; and from him health spreads
over all the earth. My child, when you are ill, do not delay, but
pray to the Lord, and he will heal you. Give up your faults and
direct your hands rightly, and cleanse your heart from all sin. Offer
a sweet-smelling sacrifice, and a memorial portion of choice flour,
and pour oil on your offering, as much as you can afford. Then
give the physician his place, for the Lord created him; do not let
him leave you, for you need him. There may come a time when re-
covery lies in the hands of physicians, for they too pray to the Lord
that he grant them success in diagnosis and in healing, for the sake
of preserving life. He who sins against his Maker, will be defiant
Health and Medicine 193

toward the physician [6 djicxprdvcov evccvii xo\) 7toif|cavTO^ awov

euTieooi eic, xzipcbc, iotTpaoa]. (Sir. 38:11-15)
If, after prayer and confession, you are still ill, then turn to the doctor.
In fact, that could be the only recourse (38:13). The strange verse 15 still
leaves us uncertain. It could mean that a person who has sinned against
God has nothing left but a physician. Or, as the NRSV translates, the
person who sins against God also fails to recognize the gift of God in the
physician. Or it might mean that the person who has sinned against God,
and therefore has become ill, still has the physician available. Given the
positive attitude toward doctors in Sir. 38, the latter seems most likely.
While the people of the Dead Sea Scrolls apparently did not utilize
physicians, they did study and utilize various herbs and stones for medic-
inal purposes (CD 12:11-13:7; see also Josephus, War 2:134-36). The
awareness of the demonic, as in the Jesus tradition, appears in the Prayer
of Nabonidus (4QprNab). But returning to more mainline Judaism, the
issue remains that of clean and unclean (unclean are corpses, lepers,
spittle, semen, urine, menstrual flow [m. Kelim 1.1-3]).2

Healing in the Jesus Tradition

The Jewish cultural background makes the Jesus tradition all the more
surprising. Granted that our knowledge of Jesus lies in the Jesus tradition,
when the reader of the Gospels looks backward into the tradition at least
one thing, among others, cannot be denied. Jesus was a healer. In the
Jesus tradition itself there is no utilization of disease as simply a matter of
clean and unclean. To the contrary, Jesus consistently attacks or ignores
the distinction. In Mark 7 Jesus sharply rejects the tradition of unclean
food and unclean vessels. Otherwise, in healing narratives, Jesus ignores
regulations regarding clean and unclean. He does not react negatively to
a woman with a flow of blood touching him (Mark 5:34). He touched a
man covered with leprosy before he declared him clean (Luke 5:13). He
touched the hand of a girl who had been declared dead (Mark 5:41).
Unlike some of his immediate Jewish counterparts, Jesus had little use
for medicines, or healing objects like stones or amulets (note the oil in
Mark 6:13). What is new is the causative factor. Jesus never directly
mentioned sin as the cause of illness.3 In the Gospel of John he even

2. David M. Feldman, Health and Medicine in the Jewish Tradition (New York: Cross-
road, 1986); Hannah K. Harrington, The Impurity Systems of Qumran and the Rabbis:
Biblical Foundations (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993); Larry P. Hogan, Healing in the Second
Temple Period (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992).
3. Mark 2:1-12 is surely a conflation of two stories: one healing narrative and one
conflict narrative.
194 Health and Medicine

directly denies it (9:3; though note 5:14). Nor does the Jesus tradition
consider ill health the result of God's unilateral judgment. In contrast
to Judaism, in the Jesus tradition a major cause for illness comes from
demon possession, or unclean spirits (Mark 1:21-45; 3:7-12; 5:1-20;
6:13; 7:24-30; 9:14-29). Two major questions arise from the tradition
about healing. Why is Jesus the Jew remembered as a healer, and why
have demons become a causative factor?

Jesus the Healer

For good reason the first question has been answered in many different
ways. For some interpreters Jesus fits well with the magical healing prac-
tices of the ancient Near East.4 The importance of this thesis is apparent
for this study. Whatever Jesus might have done, the early Christians were
in some type of conflict with Greco-Roman culture regarding the use of
magic to heal. But there are sharp differences between Jesus the healer
and other healers. As we have seen, Jesus did not use magical objects,
did not use gestures, and did not call upon magical names. 5 Furthermore,
Hellenistic healings did not signal a conflict with the demonic world (note
Matt. 8:28-34). Healings did exhibit the power of the magician, and
healers may have even acted out of compassion. That is not to say that
Jesus did not have compassion (Matt. 14:14), but the major concern is
to restore trust, as can be seen in the formulas: f\ niaxiq oox> aeocoKev oe
(Mark 5:34) and |ifi (poBofi, uovov Tticrueue (Mark 5:36), and in Jesus' frus-
tration over a faithless people: t i 8eiA,oi eoxe; owtco e%exe TUOTIV; (Mark
4:40); S yevea &7iicn;oc,, ecoc, Ttoxe 7ipdc; x>[xax; ecouai; ecoq Ttoxe ave^ouai
i)u,cov; (Mark 9:19). Some of the healings restore persons to proper func-
tion in their society: lame people can walk (Mark 2:1-12); deaf people
can hear (Mark 7:31-37); blind people can see (Mark 8:22-26). But even
more poignantly, lepers are no longer unclean and can return to their fam-
ilies (Mark 1:40-45); a woman with a flow of blood no longer needs to
fear ostracism, but now is a daughter in the faith community (Mark 5:25-
34); an uncontrollable, maniacal man goes home to his friends {x>naje eic,
xov OTKOV OOV npoc, xovq GCOC, [Mark 5:19]). An epileptic (?) boy could
reclaim his childhood with his father (Mark 9:14-29).

4. Though there are magical parallels in the Gospels, Hull assumes the tradition of
a magical Jesus first occurred when Christianity became public and had to compete with
other healing religions. John M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition, Studies
in Biblical Theology, 2d ser., no. 28 (London: SCM, 1974), 1-4.
5. David Bartlett, Ministry in the New Testament (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993).
Health and Medicine 195

Healing and Community Formation

As the Jesus tradition is expressed in particular faith communities, heal-
ing expresses even more than restoration of the trust relationship. The
healings are attached to various functions in the faith community.6 The
healing of the paralytic has been couched in a teaching framework:
They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered
the synagogue and taught [e8i8aoKev]. They were astounded at his
teaching [8i8cc%rj], for he taught [SiSdoKCOv] them as one having
authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their syna-
gogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, "What have
you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy
us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God." But Jesus rebuked
him, saying, "Be silent, and come out of him!" And the unclean
spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of
him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another,
"What is this? A new teaching [8i8a%f|] —with authority! He com-
mands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him." At once his
fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.
(Mark 1:21-28)
As we have already noted, the healing of Peter's mother-in-law became
a call for her to be a "deacon":
As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon
and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon's mother-in-law was
in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came
and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her,
and she began to serve [SvnKovei] them. (Mark 1:29-31)
The general healing narrative of Mark 1:32-34 belongs in a preaching
structure. According to Matt. 8:16-17 Jesus cured the assembled people
with the Xoyoc,. In the Markan account the demons are forbidden to speak
a A,6yoc; even though they can correctly proclaim the good news!
That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick
or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around
the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases,
and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons
to speak, because they knew him [OUK f^cpiev A,aA,e?v xa Sauiovia,
OTI fj8eioav carcov]. (Mark 1:32-33)

6. Herman Hendrickx, The Miracle Stories of the Synoptic Gospels (London: Geoffrey
Chapman; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987).
196 Health and Medicine

On the other hand, the healed leper does not refrain from preaching the
gospel even though he was admonished not to by the one who healed him:

A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him,

"If you choose, you can make me clean." Moved with pity, Jesus
stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, "I do
choose. Be made clean!" Immediately the leprosy left him, and he
was made clean. After sternly warning him he sent him away at
once, saying to him, "See that you say nothing to anyone; but go,
show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses
commanded, as a testimony to them." But he went out and began
to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word [fjpl;cn;o KTptiaaew
noXka Kcri Siacprpi^eiv tov AxSyov], so that Jesus could no longer go
into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came
to him from every quarter. (Mark 1:40-45)

The function of the good news in a healing context reaches a climax in

the story of the paralytic. The healing narrative begins with Jesus speak-
ing the word (2:2). Then the faith community inserted a controversy
story regarding forgiveness of sins. In that way the proclamation of the
good news was identified with healing.

When he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported

that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was
no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he
was speaking the word to them [eMA,ei ccmou; TOV A,6yov]. Then
some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by
four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because
of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having
dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay.
When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins
are forgiven." Now some of the scribes were sitting there, ques-
tioning in their hearts, "Why does this fellow speak in this way?
It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?" At once
Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these ques-
tions among themselves; and he said to them, "Why do you raise
such questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the par-
alytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Stand up and take your
mat and walk'? But so that you may know that the Son of Man
has authority on earth to forgive sins" —he said to the paralytic —
[secondary connector, see v. 5] "I say to you, stand up, take your
mat and go to your home." And he stood up, and immediately
took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all
Health and Medicine 197

amazed and glorified God, saying, "We have never seen anything
like this!" (Mark 2:1-12)
With these few examples we can characterize the Jesus tradition in
this way:
1. Jesus was known as a healer.
2. Jesus sometimes healed out of compassion.
3. Jesus healed primarily to restore faith, to enable disabled persons
to participate in their community, and to obliterate the divisive
category "unclean."
4. The first faith community used the Jesus tradition not only to
destroy divisive boundaries, but also to define or establish the func-
tions of the earliest trust community (serving as deacons, teaching,
preaching, and forgiving). Jesus healed infirmities that otherwise
limited the community participation of those disabled.

Demons and Unclean Spirits

The casting out of demons was another matter. Early in Hebrew theol-
ogy the functions of DTDN were distributed to subentities, often called
D T 6 N ^a, "sons of God." We know these figures primarily as subheads
of collective groups, like nations (Deut. 32:8). At the same time, some
figures were functionaries. We know Satan (Job 1:6), for example, as
the prosecuting attorney for the divine council (TH). By the time of late
Second Temple Judaism the protector of God's law (pfa) had become a
problem for God's people. The presence of the law and the law protec-
tor led to further disobedience. Although origins are complicated, one
can say generally that subentities of the sons of God are what we call
angels, while subentities of the (fallen) Satan are what we call demons.
The nomenclature is tricky. Negative subpowers can be called angels,
spirits, and demons. Positive subpowers can be called angels or spirits.
Positive subpowers pull the person toward faith, trust, and involvement
in the life of God's people. Negative subpowers individualize the person
and therefore create distrust. Distrust and individualism create illness,
psychic distress, and eventually, inappropriate action. When the primary
positive subentity, Jesus, encounters divisive spirits, the demons are trans-
formed, so to speak, into positive agents for trust and participation in
the community.7

7. Stevan L. Davies, Jesus the Healer: Possession, Trance, and the Origins of Chris-
tianity (New York: Continuum, 1995); Paul Hollenbach, "Jesus, Demoniacs, and Public
Authorities: A Socio-Historical Study," JAAR 49 (1981): 567-88.
198 Health and Medicine

Public Healing

When the church became more public the healing ministry moved in two
different directions.

Diakonia
The church of the second century continued the compassion found in the
Jesus tradition. There is no doubt. The call for caring found in Matt. 25
reflects the attitude of the earliest church:

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, "Come, you that
are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you
from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave
me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was
a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me
clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and
you visited me." Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when
was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and
gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a
stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And
when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?"
And the king will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it
to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did
it to me." (Matt. 25:34-40)

The caring was noted by the non-Christian world. Tertullian wrote, "It
is our care of the helpless, our practice of loving kindness that brands us
in the eyes of many of our opponents. 'Only look,' they say, 'look how
they love one another!'" (Apol. 39).
Early Christian art verifies the concern for caring. Jesus is pictured
healing the paralytic, making the deaf hear, the blind to see, and raising
the dead. In the fourth century the healing of lepers also occurs. The
frequent symbol of the Good Shepherd surely signified the importance
of care and hospitality. Rodney Stark argues that the incredible growth
of the early Christian church depended to a large extent on the fact that
Christians cared for their members during severe epidemics.8 He contends
that even minimal care would have raised the percentage of those who
survived. Likewise, non-Christians saved by Christian care likely joined
with the group that healed them.

8. Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997).

Health and Medicine 199

Miracle
In contrast to congregational care, the earliest church was also locked
into a conflict with the Romans and with other Eastern religions. While
the healing tradition of the early church might have been based on com-
passion and unity formation, placed in the public world of the Roman
Empire, it looked like magic. As the Christians were known as sorcerers,
in terms of gender, so in terms of healing they were known as magicians.
In fact, Wilken claims that a major element in the growth of Christian-
ity was its ability to overpower competitive magicians.9 One can see the
conflict already in the New Testament materials.
A magician named Simon was popular in Samaria, but when Philip
began to preach in Samaria he also did many healings ("For unclean
spirits, crying with loud shrieks, came out of many who were possessed;
and many others who were paralyzed or lame were cured," Acts 8:7). As
Philip came into competition with Simon, the people of Samaria began
to follow Philip and wished to be baptized. Eventually Simon saw the
handwriting on the wall. He, too, asked to be baptized:

Now a certain man named Simon had previously practiced magic

in the city and amazed the people of Samaria, saying that he was
someone great. All of them, from the least to the greatest, listened
to him eagerly, saying, "This man is the power of God that is called
Great." And they listened eagerly to him because for a long time
he had amazed them with his magic. But when they believed Philip,
who was proclaiming the good news about the kingdom of God and
the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women.
Even Simon himself believed. After being baptized [6 8e IIU.GOV m i
ambc, e7iioxe\)oev m i pccTmoGeu;], he stayed constantly with Philip
and was amazed when he saw the signs and great miracles that took
place. (Acts 8:9-13)

Luke's narrative throughout reflects the competition between the Jesus

tradition and the Greco-Roman religious world. In Cyprus Paul encoun-
tered a magician, a false Jewish prophet, by the name of Bar-Jesus.
Bar-Jesus tried to win the favor of the proconsul, Sergius Paulus. But
in that competitive structure Paul blinded the magician temporarily and
"When the procounsul saw what had happened, he believed, for he was
astonished about the teaching of the Lord" (Acts 13:12).
Or, after Paul healed a lame man in Lystra, the populace compared

9. Robert L. Wilken, The Myth of Christian Beginnings: History's Impact on Belief

(Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1971); The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1984).
200 Health and Medicine

Paul and Barnabas with Zeus and Hermes (Acts 14:8-18). But more
pertinent would be the conflict with the magician in Philippi, where the
magician's spiritual mouthpiece actually "converted to Paul" and left
her owner without a means of income:

One day, as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a slave

girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great
deal of money by fortune-telling. While she followed Paul [ocvur]
KaxccKoA.O'oGowa TCG natiAxo] and us, she would cry out, "These
men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way
of salvation." She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very
much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, "I order you in the
name of Jesus Christ [ev 6v6|i(m TnaoS Xpicrioa)] to come out of
her." And it came out that very hour. (Acts 16:16-18)

Competition

The first disciples of Jesus even competed with Jewish healers. In Ephesus
Paul discovered Jewish healers who healed in the name of Jesus. Partic-
ularly the seven sons of Sceva,"a Jewish high priest, used the name. It
was not Paul, but an evil spirit, that attacked the sons for their abuse
of the Jesus tradition:

Then some itinerant Jewish exorcists tried to use the name of the
Lord Jesus over those who had evil spirits, saying, "I adjure you by
the Jesus whom Paul proclaims." Seven sons of a Jewish high priest
named Sceva were doing this. But the evil spirit said to them in re-
ply, "Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are you?" [d7lOKpi0ev
8e t o 7ive\5|ia TO Ttovrjpdv einev CCOTOTC/ TOV [|iev] 'Irpouv yivcooKco
Kcxi TO ncu3A,ov 67iiOTa|iai, i)[XEiq 5e Tivec, eo~Te;] Then the man with
the evil spirit leaped on them, mastered them all, and so overpow-
ered them that they fled out of the house naked and wounded.
When this became known to all residents of Ephesus, both Jews
and Greeks, everyone was awestruck; and the name of the Lord
Jesus was praised. (Acts 19:13-17)

Although the later New Testament does not record such competitive
healings, the apocryphal Acts abound with nearly formal power com-
petitions. The Acts of Peter (19-29) is famous, of course, for the contest
with Simon. Peter finally wins with the resurrection of a young boy.
Justin Martyr recounted another story of competition with Magus and
the ex-prostitute Helena. Christians rejected the accusation of magic, but
Health and Medicine 201

nevertheless their attack on the demons of ill health turned them into a
healing religion.10

Impact on Greco-Roman Healing

As a result of the inculturation of the Jesus tradition caring-healing
became a mark of religious piety. Furthermore, the established church
developed institutions to care for the ill. In 335 Constantine decreed
the building of hospitals in Rome, Ephesus, Constantinople, and else-
where. The Hotel-Dieu of Lyons was opened in 542, and the Hotel-Dieu
of Paris in 660. Nevertheless, while the Jesus tradition exhibited com-
passion, for the most part, it retained the magical approach to healing
and even the casting out of demons. Eventually Christianity repressed
the observational approach to medicine, so well developed in the Greek
world. Briefly stated, the Asclepius movement split about 200 B.C.E. One
section moved in the direction of shamanism and the other in the direc-
tion of "scientific" medicine. In the nascent Christian Roman tradition
both were rejected — shamanism as pagan, and the heritage of Hippoly-
tus as non-theological. The observational part of Greek medicine went
underground in to the Arabic world and did not reemerge until the Ren-
aissance. Meanwhile, illness was still considered a divine punishment
and health a divine gift.

10. Like Hull (Hellenistic Magic), Gary Ferngren believes that Christianity became a
healing religion only after the rise of Constantine ("Early Christianity as a Religion of
Healing," Bulletin of the History of Medicine 66, no. 1 (1992): 1-15). See also Eugene V.
Gallagher, Divine Man or Magician? Celsus and Origen on Jesus (Chico, Calif.: Scholars
Press, 1981).
 14

Conclusion: The Jesus Tradition and

the Formation of Christian Culture

We ought not say that it was useless for scholars to trace the demise of
the earliest Christianity. Nor can we say which thesis — loss of escha-
tology, loss of spirit, loss of democracy — actually is most true to the
data. This work is not a rebuttal of previous research. My question is a
different one. How did the Jesus tradition so impact Roman culture that
a new culture was created? My attempt to investigate this question has
been useful, but far from complete. Each topic touched upon has been
thoroughly researched by many scholars. The work here has taken that
research and asked a different question — that of inculturation rather
than acculturation.

The Synoptic Jesus Tradition

According to tradition Jesus did not so much alter culture as rearrange
Jewish and Roman values both. "Jesus" celebrated meals as a form of
community building, but he did not follow Jewish dietary laws, nor did he
observe Roman eating customs. He apparently ate with anyone he wished
regardless of sex, occupation, or reputation. That is, the churches of the
Synoptic tradition consisted of communities that observed no self-evident
boundaries.
The Synoptic communities met in houses (Mark 1:29-31; 14:14-15;
Luke 10:38-42; 24:29-30, 33) and used the nomenclature of families —
brother, sister, father, mother, son, and daughter. In addition to sharing
open meals, Jesus healed persons who were excluded from Jewish com-
munities. He restored the disabled to their proper place in society and
cast out demons that caused destructive individualism.
Jesus did not scorn the Jewish calendar, but certainly did not follow
it. He did not follow the Sabbath tradition at all times, though he did
observe the Passover. In the Synoptic communities, inexplicably, there is
little hint of a new calendar (Mark 16:9 would be much later).
Although the Synoptic communities did not share the Roman attitude

202
The Jesus Tradition and the Formation of Christian Culture 203

toward (proper) women, neither do the churches seem to have broken

from general Jewish culture. Women played an important role, but not
often as leaders. Luke mentions the presence of women frequently, while
only Matthew has women present on occasions where in Jewish and
Roman cultures they might not have been (Matt. 14:21; 15:38; 22:30).
It is difficult to ascertain nongraphic symbols. They are surely present
in Synoptic Jesus tradition. The symbol of water took on unusual mean-
ing at the baptism of Jesus, though it does not occur later in the story
(no real origin for water baptism has been established). The symbol re-
mained a part of early Christian symbolism (whether as cleansing agent
or as alien force). The Synoptic tradition does not negate the Passover
symbols, but nevertheless, the meal symbolism shifts to bread and fish.
Bread always symbolizes community formation. The shift from meat,
that is, taxonomic order, to fish follows the meaning of the water — exis-
tence in alien environment. In early Christian symbolism healing scenes,
prophetic existence in water, and eating together dominate the subject
matter.

The Pauline Jesus Tradition

There are strong differences between the Pauline tradition and Synoptic
tradition. Paul seldom advocates jettisoning either Jewish or Roman cul-
ture, but he consistently relativizes cultural values and practices. The hos
me passage of 1 Cor. 7 states the case perfectly: take your place in society,
but do not take it seriously. One might call it an eschatological suspension
of culture. At the same time, Paul faces the need for a Christian culture,
so in his letters one sees a constant leaning toward the establishment of
a new order, neither Jewish nor Roman, with new values.
Congruent with the Jesus tradition, Paul also uses the meal as a means
of forming the new community. Unfortunately we cannot determine just
who ate at the tables. One could assume there were all classes of partic-
ipants, but the Jesus tradition of eating with sinners is not repeated in
the letters of Paul. Nevertheless, the meal is the key agent for building
community. In Gal. 2 Paul recounts his attack on Peter for failing to eat
with the non-Jews present. From this dramatic incident arose the central
Pauline teaching about justification: it is not custom or law that makes us
right before God. On the other hand, Paul was nonchalant about meals
in general. Because idols had no real existence, eating meals at idolatreia
was a relative matter. It was not to be taken seriously (1 Cor. 8). Even-
tually Paul's sociological awareness caught up with him. Relativity of
idols not withstanding, meals did create community, so later in the same
204 Conclusion

Corinthian letter Paul recognized how critically important it was for the
faith community to eat together (1 Cor. 11).
The churches mentioned in the letters of Paul met in houses rather
than temples or synagogues. The house church was not only practical, but
reflected the family orientation of the Pauline communities. Leadership in
the Pauline churches derived from the house churches. Owners or hosts
of the houses also served as ministers (diakonoi) of the local church.
There is no indication that Paul chose to ignore the Sabbath. If it
were not for the rare reference to first day of the week (1 Cor. 16:2),
the reader would suppose that Paul and his communities still met on
the Sabbath. But Paul realizes that the new community is neither Jewish
nor Greek. He chastises the Galatians for being tempted to celebrate
the Jewish calendar, yet obviously he will not endorse the Roman. Paul
offers no new suggestion.
As in the Jesus tradition, women play an important role in the life
of the new community. They preach (prophesy), they serve as ministers,
they have apostolic rank. Men and women act as equal partners in sex-
ual bonding. Daughters of Christians are encouraged to make marriage
decisions for themselves. Nevertheless, it would be difficult to say that
men and women were treated with equality. Paul did not want the faith
communities to appear subversive. He asked women to cover their heads
when they spoke and perhaps even asked them not to disrupt the wor-
ship with ecstatic chatter. Normal sex standards were made relative; that
is, men and women were treated equally unless it seriously upset current
cultural expectations. In Christ there were not to be separate standards
for male and female.
The Jesus tradition of healing seems strangely absent from the letters
of Paul. There are no references to Jesus healing, to Paul healing, or
anyone else for that matter. We know that healing occurs, because he
speaks of xapto~|!aTa iajiaxcov ev xcp evi Ttvetiuxxxi (1 Cor. 12:9; see also
12:28, 30). Despite the absence of healing narratives, the formation of
the Pauline faith community occurs in a way quite parallel to the Synoptic
tradition. While healing in the Jesus tradition brings trust, restoration to
community, and faith community roles, in Paul's theology the gift of God
in Christ and the Spirit do the same thing. At the heart of Paul's faith
is the restoration to trust {dikaiosune by the loving act of God in Jesus
(Rom. 8:2). The life-giving Spirit (6 yap VOUADC, TOO) nvevyiaxoc, ir\q t^cofjc;
ev XptaTCQ Tnaoft f|A,e\)9epcoaev ae &7td TO$ vduxyo %r\c, duxxpriac; Kai tou
Gavatou [Rom. 8:2]) directs the faith community and raises up those
roles necessary for community life and mission (1 Cor. 12:4-7).
The relativity of social classes, as well as of gender roles, affected the
church, but not society. True to his unwillingness to attack the larger
The Jesus Tradition and the Formation of Christian Culture 205

social structure, Paul has nothing to say about slavery as such. He as-
sumes that in the Lord there is no distinction between master and slave
(Gal. 3:28; Philemon). Making relative or suspending a culture value or
institution can have devastating results. In this case it did. As the later in-
scriptions show, the early Christians did not make standard nomenclature
distinctions between slaves, freed, and free.
Again, symbols are hard to determine. Water takes on a powerful
meaning in Rom. 5. By being baptized the convert dies with Jesus on the
cross. Entering the water signifies an encounter with the past that results
in death and an anticipation of new life. There is no mention of the
loaves and fishes in Paul. Although he uses the paschal lamb as a symbol
(1 Cor. 5:7), he does not mention a Passover menu for the early Christian
meals. Paul's primary symbols are bread and wine. The bread signifies the
participation in the new community (body of Christ; see 1 Cor. 10:14-
22) and the openness of the new community (broken; see 1 Cor. 1 1 : 2 3 -
26). The wine signifies the Spirit of the new fellowship as well as the
blood of the broken (open) body that gives new life. Both symbols were
highly significant in early Christian art. The life-giving brokenness of the
body was accomplished on a cross. Paul surely expressed that centrality.
Early Christian literature continued to state the centrality of the cross
symbol, even though the more popular early Christian art did not.

The Johannine Jesus Tradition

Writing toward the end of the first century, the author of the Gospel of
John approached inculturation in quite a different way. In contrast to
the Synoptic Jesus tradition, which brought new life in terms of Jewish
values, or the Pauline, which, in search of a new way, relativized or sus-
pended the Jewish and Roman cultures, John tried to deculturize Jesus.
We cannot know the extent to which John intended, or was able, to decul-
turize. Obviously, any written document about any given event in history
cannot possibly do away with culture. So the Fourth Gospel is written
in Greek in the context of Jewish and Hellenistic culture. But the author
wishes to present a Jesus who is free of Jewish and Roman cultural prac-
tices— or more, perhaps, present a Jesus who, as nearly as possible, can
be transported from place to place without cultural translation. That was
accomplished primarily by shifting cultural values to symbols, healings
to signs, and downgrading or eliminating basic cultural items.
There are meals in the Gospel of John. The reader would be hard put
to find community formation in them. The wedding at Cana does not
involve persons who reflect the new community of faith; the meal at the
well in Samaria actually occurs off stage; the final supper in Jerusalem,
206 Conclusion

with Peter refusing to participate and Judas doomed to "betrayal," could

hardly be called a paradigm of community formation. Even the feeding
of the five thousand, a replacement for the Passover in the Gospels, is dis-
placed by the symbol of Jesus as the bread of life. Johannine characters,
and therefore the readers of the Fourth Gospel, are chastised for seeking
food and drink that does not satisfy (4:13-14;6:26-27), when the sym-
bolic bread of life and living water are available to them. The symbols of
bread, water, and wine reference the divine presence available in the Jesus
of history. These are available only from Jesus, not in an actual meal.
There is no indication of community building in the meals. The issue is
always assimilation of the divine presence. That assimilation is described
in terms of love or intimacy. At the great dinner for Jesus (12:1-8) Mary
of Bethany becomes "beloved" by washing the feet of Jesus with her
hair. At the dinner described in chapter 13 Peter refuses the intimacy of
washing feet, while the disciple designated as the Beloved Disciple reclines
in the bosom of Jesus. It is not clear how Mary Magdalene became a
"beloved disciple," though she also is portrayed as an intimate disciple.
What is true about food and meals is equally true about healing. The
healing stories have become setneia. The healing of the official's son was
a second sign that led people to see the divine presence (4:46-54; cf.
2:11). The healing of the man lame for thirty-eight years actually served
to attack the calendar (5:1-18). And, of course, restoring sight to the man
born blind is a narrative carefully constructed to show, symbolically, that
restoration of sight and reception of the divine presence are parallel to
faith development. There is no hint of community development or faith
community leadership.
The author of John appears to repudiate the calendar even more than
does the Jesus tradition itself. The healings deliberately make the "work"
of the Father available on the Sabbath (see 5:17). The festivals of the
Jews serve as literary devices to set the stage for conflict with the Jews
(2:13-22; 5:1-8; 7:10-52; 10:22-39; and the final Passover narrative).
At times it seems like the author is playing calendar games with us. He
frequently tells us the time and often gives us a succession of days ("and
on the next day"). It leads to nothing. His date for the Passover has
confounded readers from the second century on. Despite the seeming
cavalier attitude toward calendar, it is not that simple. Mary Magdalene
came to the tomb trj 8e uiS TGOV aaPP&toov; the disciples met that evening
for the first time. Eight days later they met again. In the Gospel of John
we have the beginning of a Christian calendar.
In fact, beginning on the first day of the week after the resurrection, we
see the hints of inculturation. A Christian calendar is established and a
minimal liturgy described. Although intimacy was the method of sharing
The Jesus Tradition and the Formation of Christian Culture 207

the divine presence, Thomas, who wants to touch Jesus, does not need to.
Jesus ends with a blessing on those who can believe without the physical
presence. The additional chapter 21 continues the process of incultura-
tion. The disciples share a breakfast with the risen Jesus that consists of
bread and fish — the food of the feeding of the five thousand and the food
consistently portrayed in early Christian art. Peter is rehabilitated. Escha-
tological thinking is recognized without criticism. After the resurrection
the Spirit leads the faith community in the process of inculturation. But
the deculturized Jesus still remains in the Fourth Gospel — available for
impacting other times and other cultures.
Gender may be a moot point in the Fourth Gospel. Men and women
equally fall short of genuine discipleship. Some readers suppose that
John's concern for the mother of Jesus, for the Samaritan woman, for
Mary and Martha, and for Mary Magdalene indicates a tradition where
women are treated with respect and equality. The argument does not
hold up. Jesus' treatment of his mother is not even polite. The Samari-
tan woman fares badly at the hands of Jesus at the well. Martha does
not "catch on." Only the female "beloved disciples," Mary of Bethany
and Mary Magdalene, receive the approbation of the author. Intimacy
creates genuine appropriation of the divine presence in Jesus. Because
Jesus is male and the two (?) Marys are female, the intimacy appears
very sensual. There is no hint of that in the Johannine narratives. Appar-
ently faith intimacy is identical for men and women. Failure to receive
the divine presence also reveals no gender differentiation.

Jesus Tradition Trajectories

There are a number of areas where the Jesus tradition has impacted
Roman culture. Exploring all of them seems impractical at this time,
so we have selected a few trajectories that will illustrate the process of
inculturation.

Symbols
Although Jewish symbols did not impact Roman culture, the Jesus tra-
dition entered and altered the meaning of several Roman symbols. The
new symbol system stressed community hospitality, life in an alien cul-
ture, community foods, and peace. These new symbols clearly picked up
the Jesus traditions of community openness and his prophetic critique of
the dominant culture. After the peace of the church most of the basic
symbols were either altered in meaning or referenced concrete events.
The Good Shepherd became Jesus; the fish became an acrostic; bread
208 Conclusion

and wine referred to the Eucharist; the boat became the ark. Symbols
that dealt with cultural tension disappeared (anchor, Orante).

Art
Jewish art was too insignificant to be a factor in this discussion. The
Jesus tradition utilized elements of contemporary Roman art to express
primary Christian concerns. Stories from the Hebrew Scriptures were
used to express deliverance from an oppressive culture, state, and even
the environment. The Greco-Roman Orante figure often signified that
deliverance. New Testament stories reflected healings, communal meals,
birth, baptism. Jesus appeared as a Hellenistic divine healer or miracle
worker. About the time of Constantine, pictorial representations shifted
from symbolic art to illustrations. The illustrations (e.g., in Maria Mag-
giore, Rome; or Ravenna) could be used for ecclesiastical propaganda,
educational purposes, or theological persuasion. Jesus became an em-
peror who ruled and judged the world. The loss of living symbols and
symbolic art meant that the church could no longer live out of the Jesus
tradition, but had to expand and defend its own self-inflicted artistic con-
cretizations. The Jesus tradition permeates Christian art, but no longer
as an effective force for inculturation.

Architecture
For pragmatic reasons (availability) and for communal reasons the
church of the first centuries almost invariably met in house churches.
For much the same reasons, Jewish meetings were held in homes that
eventually evolved into more formal halls. Both were family-oriented.
The early Christians kept the family orientation through the first three
centuries and, somewhat in contrast to the Jews, deliberately kept house
architecture. However, both traditions were reluctant to shift from the
more communal square buildings to those longitudinal buildings that af-
forded hierarchical leadership. Because of the familial organization of
the church, meals for the dead played an important role in the life of the
church. Such meals were held in triclinium-like cemetery rooms, or circu-
lar edifices like the Greek heroon. These martyria were elongated, by the
addition of naves, to accommodate larger groups of families. At the same
time, the square house churches were also elongated to accommodate
larger congregations. The two developments eventually ended in longi-
tudinal churches with apses, sometimes domes, and sometimes cruciform
wings at the end. The element of the extended family — the remains of
faith community heroes, the martyrs — was centrally placed before the
apse beneath the table/altar. Although the Jesus tradition of communal
life permeated early Christian architecture and even helped create the
The Jesus Tradition and the Formation of Christian Culture 209

fourth-century Christian basilica, still, the formation of Roman Chris-

tian culture changed the family nature of the early church's built form
into a hierarchical structure.

Meals
The primary function of meals in the material under discussion is to es-
tablish community. Obviously, meals serve to maintain health and life,
but that does not come under consideration. Jewish meals not only solid-
ified Jewish community but also tended to exclude non-Jews. In order to
preserve the meaning of food, strict dietary laws evolved. It was the di-
etary laws that prevented table fellowship with non-Jews. Along with the
keeping of the Sabbath and circumcision, the dietary laws then became
primary marks for what it meant to be a Jew. It is difficult to determine,
then and now, whether the dietary laws serve to affirm a certain symbolic
faith, or whether they define Jewish identity (or both).
In contrast to Judaism, the meals and food of the Roman world served
much more as a sign of class. The nature of food itself signaled class
distinctions. Soft, perishable food indicated upper class, while hard, dry,
and preserved food indicated low class. In the higher class meals social
favor was even more sharply defined by position at the table.
In the Jesus tradition the Jewish meal was radically altered. Bound-
ary lines were dropped. Dietary laws were abolished. Non-Jews came to
the table. Men and women ate together, although that might be more
of a break with Greco-Roman custom than with Jewish. The primary
food shifted to bread, wine, and fish. Bread and wine were elements of
common meals, and both were basic foods for developing community.
Bread, wine, and fish were the elements of the early Christian common
meal, as seen in the story of the feeding of the five thousand and in early
Christian art. At the same time, bread and wine were the elements of the
major early Christian ritual, the Eucharist. Bread and wine marked the
formation of community (1 Cor. 10:14-22), and they also, in terms of
semiotics, became symbols of the death and resurrection of Jesus (1 Cor.
11:23-26). As for the fish, also common to Mediterranean meals, it too
became a much used symbol. For the more elite it became an acrostic
referring to Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior, but for most early Chris-
tians it signified, along with the anchor and boat, the gift of life in an
alien environment.
The impact of the Jesus tradition on meals resulted in new traditions.
Meals became inclusive means of establishing and continuing the Chris-
tian community. The basic foods remained symbols of redemption (fish)
rather than creation (meat). Types of food did not distinguish classes,
and placement at the table did not establish social status. Even though
210 Conclusion

the fellowship meal coalesced with the larger meal for/with the dead,
and even though that became, after Constantine, the more public meal,
the Mass, still, participation in the meal was democratic and symbolic
of the redemptive act. Eventually, of course, society reestablished so-
cial distinctions and exclusivity, but nevertheless, the Jesus tradition did
permanently alter Jewish and Hellenistic meal traditions.

Calendar
As far as festivals were concerned, the Jews followed a lunar calendar,
although some elements of the calendar were based on solar movements.
At the same time, the Romans followed a solar calendar, which frequently
had to be adjusted. At the time of the Roman Republic the Romans made
an effort to shift to a lunar calendar. Eventually a compromise was made
that proved fairly satisfactory. Meanwhile, the Jesus tradition tended to
make the Sabbath observance subservient to more humane considera-
tions. Nevertheless, there is little indication that the lunar calendar was
rejected. There are slight hints in the New Testament period that the
Christian calendar would become a lunar one based on the first day of
the week. Early in the life of the church, leaders (Paul) were aware that
the first Christians dare not follow either a Jewish calendar or a Roman
one. Their earliest calendar did follow a lunar system, but the primary
day became the first day of the week rather than the Sabbath. It would
also appear that the Romans, for unknown reasons, followed the Jewish
calendar and named the seventh day a day of rest. The situation then was
set for a public Christian calendar based on the "first day of the week."
Nevertheless, in their public struggle with the sun god the first Christians
took over solar festivals to create primary festivals such as Christmas
and Easter. The Jesus tradition had infiltrated Jewish and Roman calen-
dars in such a way as to create a new cultural basis for keeping time and
ordering festival days.

Gender
Gender issues in the early Christian period have been so variously in-
terpreted that a confident statement becomes nearly impossible. In the
Greco-Roman world women had to remain private or be known as
"prostitutes." That severe role for women was altered at the end of the
Roman Republic so that women could, in a limited way, take part in
public life. The Jewish background remains even more difficult to ascer-
tain. Women surely did not enjoy equality, yet there is little indication
that public appearance was totally inappropriate. At the time of the New
Testament period, Jewish women were patrons of synagogues, and even
leaders, while non-Jewish women joined Judaism as "God-fearers." The
The Jesus Tradition and the Formation of Christian Culture 211

Jesus tradition may not be all that different from contemporary Judaism.
In fact, some modern readers assume that so-called early Christian in-
equality derived from its predecessor Judaism. But it is not that simple.
There is little in the Jesus tradition to indicate that women were not
treated evenhandedly. To be sure, often there is no mention of special
or equal treatment. It would appear that women were not named or
mentioned in order to protect them from possible misunderstanding in
the Greco-Roman world. In the letters of Paul we find an eschatolog-
ical expectation that gender does not matter, while in fact women do
take an equal role in the faith community. Paul has men and women
equal in matters of marriage, and calls for more freedom in the marriage
process.
As the church became more and more public, church writers called
for a community structure that would be acceptable to the Greco-Roman
world. The submission of women to men, or at least wives to husbands,
was made clear. This was the public stance. The private practice might
have been something else. Inscriptions show no differentiation between
men and women, or slaves and masters. Early Christian art does not show
a preference for male figures and certainly not for male-based narratives.
In early Christian art women were shown officiating at meals.

Healing
According to the Jesus tradition, Jesus was known primarily as a healer.
That tradition stands in contrast to other Jewish leaders and prophets,
who could call upon divine power to heal, but did not engage in healing
ministries. Indeed, healing stands in contrast to the two other major Jesus
traditions: wisdom teacher and eschatological prophet. Healing had one
function: to restore the ill and diseased to their rightful community. The
lame, blind, and hard-of-hearing were given back those functions that
made them whole members of society. On the other hand, according to
the Jesus tradition, Jesus also struggled with demonic forces, the power of
divine unity transformed by human society into divisive spirits. By casting
out demons Jesus restored people to their rightful place in society, but
also transformed social structures. In either case, the first Christians saw
the tradition of healing as one that not only expressed caring, but made
community (society) possible.
For that reason many of the healing stories deal either with persons
returning home, or, more likely, with the formation of faith community
roles such as preaching, teaching, and serving. The tradition of eating to-
gether created new communities without boundaries, led by persons who
offered hospitality (elders and bishops). Healing also broke boundaries
and resulted in healed persons who found a place in the new com-
212 Conclusion

munity (ministers, teachers, deacons). The healing tradition continued

through the first centuries. Christians cared for children, disabled, im-
poverished in such a way that the Roman culture sensed the contrast.
In many ways the Christian care for others created cognitive disso-
nance in the dominant culture. As a side issue, Christians leaders also
battled with demonic forces and with other healers who claimed supe-
rior powers. According to Christian narratives the Christian leaders won
those battles and, after Constantine, gained the consequent allegiance of
the populace.
Private (caring) and public (exorcism) traditions of healing were both
central to Christianity, and they continued into the later centuries. How-
ever, a price was paid. The Judeo-Christian understanding of health and
wholeness, as a divine gift, left no room for the more observational style
of the Greek physicians. That rich heritage went underground until the
sixteenth century.

Conclusions
The Jesus tradition continued with power, primarily the power of the
Spirit, into the life of the earliest faith community. It was variously used,
though not necessarily contrary to the original. Boundaries were broken,
people were cared for, new open communities of faith were formed, so-
ciety was challenged. Although the Jesus tradition remained powerful,
eventually alterations did occur. Primarily at the end of the third century
and the beginning of the fourth, when the heretofore private faith com-
munity became public, significant developments can be seen. The church
building became a longitudinal basilica. Some symbols became reified
(e.g., the Good Shepherd became Jesus), while others were dropped (the
Orante). Art no longer reflected the role of the faith community in an
alien culture, but became illustrative for educational and promotional
purposes. Meals that had been used for family and community cohesive-
ness became liturgical celebrations. Although the Jesus tradition of caring
remained central to the fourth-century church, the casting out of demons
became a public competition for adherents.
The Jesus tradition was not destroyed, as has been suggested. In its
earliest form it altered the Jewish culture in which it found itself. When
a Jesus movement culture was needed, early Christians tried to create
something new by weaving between what was Roman and what was
Jewish (Paul). One early religious genius (John) recognized the dangers of
a new Christian culture and attempted to eliminate cultural specifics from
the story of Jesus. The Jesus tradition eventually did become concretized
in specific (Roman) cultural garb. The mistake then, and from time to
The Jesus Tradition and the Formation of Christian Culture 213

time the mistake now, is to identify the Roman form of Christianity with
the Jesus tradition itself. To offer to non-Christians a so-called orthodox
Christianity is to offer them a Roman Christian culture inculturated by
the Jesus tradition rather than the Jesus tradition itself. By tracing how
this was done we have an opportunity to see the Jesus tradition before
it became concrete.
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White, L. Michael. The Social Origins of Christian Architecture. Vol. 1, Build-
ing God's House in the Roman World: Architectural Adaptation Among
Pagans, Jews and Christians. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press,
1990. Reprint, Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1996.
. The Social Origins of Christian Architecture. Vol. 2, Texts and Monu-
ments for the Domus Ecclesiae in Its Environment. Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity
Press International, 1997.
Wiefel, Wolfgang. "The Jewish Community in Ancient Rome and the Origins of
Roman Christianity." In The Romans Debate, ed. Karl Donfried. Peabody,
Mass.: Hendrickson, 1991.
Wilken, Robert L. The Myth of Christian Beginnings: History's Impact on Belief.
Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1971.
. The Christians as the Romans Saw Them. New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1984.
Willis, Wendell Lee. Idol Meat in Corinth: The Pauline Argument in 1 Corinthi-
ans 8 and 10. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1981.
Winter, Bruce W Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and
Citizens. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994.
Wire, Antoinette. The Corinthian Women Prophets: A Reconstruction through
Paul's Rhetoric. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990.
Wood, Roy C. The Sociology of the Meal. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press,
1995.
Wrede, William. The Messianic Secret. Trans. J. C. G. Greig. London: Clarke,
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Zias, Joseph. "Death and Disease in Ancient Israel." BA 54 (1991): 146-59.
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 Index of Texts

HEBREW SCRIPTURES 17:10-14 140

19:10 172
Genesis 23:22 172
1:1-2 133 23:39 124
1:14 120 27:20 149
1:26-27 176
1:30 139 Numbers
1:31 23 11:5 147
2:9 139-40 15:5 137
3:17-19 140
4:17 134
Deuteronomy
6:5-7 134
5:8-9 99
6:17 134
7:4 134 5:12-15 120
8:3-4 120 6:4 176
9:1-6 140 8:3 132
9:3-4 130 14:22-23 149
14:18 137 23:12-14 190
18:1-8 152 32:8 197
18:1-15 157 32:39 189
19:3 152
19:31-38 177 Joshua
29:21-30 177 5:10-12 24, 45, 120, 125
44:32 141
Judges
Exodus 11:39-40 168
2:20 131
3:14 50 Ruth
12:1-11 152 2:14 152
12:33-13:10 120
12:47 157 2 Samuel
13:19 168 9:11 153
15:24 146 11:11 153
15:25-26 189 12:1-6 98
16:3 146 13:1-14 153
16:4 131
16:12 147
1 Kings
16:32 130
22:27 133
17:2 146
17:2-6 133
20:4-5 99 2 Kings
20:8-11 120 5 191
23:11 172
23:12-13 120 2 Chronicles
23:25 133 29:17 124
29:2 131
Job
Leviticus 1:4 157
7:13 131 1:7-8 130
11:1-26 141 42:11 157

231
232 Index of Texts

Psalms Micah
74:13-15 133 4:4 136
80:8 136
89:37 120 Zechariah
104:19 120 3:10 136
104:27-29 130
116:13 137

Proverbs APOCRYPHA,
9:1-6 132 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA

Ecclesiastes 1 Enoch
8:15 152 72-82 120

Song of Solomon Jubilees

4:16 1:7-8 130
153
Judith
Isaiah
12:1-2 154
3:1 133
1:7-8 130
5:1-7 97, 136
17:12-13 134 2 Maccabees
25:6 138 6:18-22 141
25:6-8 131 7:1-9 141
30:20 132
35:5-6 21, 23, 190 Sirach
41:18 132 34:21 172
43:1-2 135 34:25 172
53:4-6 190 38:11-15 192-93
58:11 132, 133
66:10-11 131 Tobit
1:17 172
Jeremiah 2:10 191
2:13 133 11:10-14 192
8:14 133 11:14-15 192
16:7-8 168 12:14 192
17:8-14 190
25:15-17 137
31:15 168
35:6-7 147 JEWISH LITERATURE

Daniel Joseph and Aseneth

1:8-10 141 7:1 154
1:8 153
Letter ofAristeas
2:28-29 35
181 154
4:28-33 191
4:37 191 Dead Sea Scrolls
CD 12:11-13:7 193
Hosea HQTemple 120
10:1 136 4Q521, Col. 2 22
11:3 189 4QprNab 193
Joel Philo
1:15 124 Moses 2:232 [42] 10

Amos Josephus
6:4-7 147 War 2:134-36 193
Index of Texts 233

Mishnah 4:40 194

'Abod.Zar.5 138 5:1-18 23
'Abod.Zar.5.5 139, 156 5:1-20 194
Kelim 1.1-3 193 5:18-19 21
Ker. 1.3-7 177 5:19 194
Ketub. 4.4-5 177 5:25-34 194
Yad. 1-2 149 5:34 181, 193, 194
5:36 194
5:41 181, 193
6:l-2a 121
NEW TESTAMENT 6:4 20
6:13 193, 194
Matthew 6:14-29 148
3:4 147 6:30-44 19, 94, 169
5:44-45 134 6:41 23
6:5-6 121 6:45-52 94
6:16-18 121 6:46 23
9:10-13 156 7:1-3 148
9:14-15 121 7:14-15 141
10:5-6 21 7:14-23 149
10:42 134 7:24-30 21, 194
11:18-19 121 7:31-37 23, 194
13:57 20 8:22-26 23, 194
14:13-21 161 9:14-29 194
14:14 194 9:19 194
14:21 203 10:2-9 183
15:32-39 161 10:5-6 21
15:38 203 10:35-40 150
20:1-16 74, 136 10:42-45 151
22:1-10 156 12:1-11 136
22:30 203 14:14-15 202
22:34-40 19 14:22-25 67
23:15 10, 17 14:25 131
23:23 149 14:51-52 23
23:25-26 149 15:40 181
24:20 121 15:40-41 181
25:34-40 198 15:47 181
26:6-13 160 16:1-8 181
26:29 137 16:2 122
28:19 21
Luke
Mark 1:1-4 64
1:8 43, 135 1:15 147
1:11 43 2:41 177
1:14-15 43 3:38 25
1:21-28 121, 159, 195 4:16 121
1:21-45 194 4:24 20
1:29-31 159, 195, 202 4:38-39 159
1:32-34 195 5:13 193
1:40-45 194, 196 5:17 159
2:1-12 159, 193, 194, 196-97 5:27-32 19
2:2 23 5:30 156
2:5b-9a 23 7:22 22
2:11 19 7:33-34 135, 148, 181
2:23-28 121 7:35 160
2:27 121 7:44-46 135
3:1-6 121 8:1-3 181
3:7-12 194 9:10-17 161
234 Index of Texts

Luke (continued) 6:31-34 131

10:38-41 162 6:35 125, 149
10:38-42 202 6:41 149
13:10-17 121 6:42 42
14:1-6 121 6:48-50 131
14:1-14 151 6:51-58 67, 125, 149
14:12-14 172 6:53 149
14:16-24 156 6:56 149
15:11-32 74 7:27 42
16:19-31 148 7:37-38 49
16:24 134 7:37-39 134
16:31 172 8:19 50
17:11-19 19 8:42-44 52
19:1-10 172 9:1-41 44, 45-46
24:29-30 202 9:3 52, 194
24:30 131 9:22 39, 46, 50
24:33 202 9:34 39,46
10:1-8 98
John
10:17-18 52
1:1 49
10:30 50
1:10-11 49
1:11-14 43 10:31 52
1:14 50 10:34 51
1:19-28 125 11:1-44 44,46
1:29 52 , 98, 125 11:24 24, 46, 185
1:29-34 43 11:25-26 41,46
1:36 52 11:25-27 50
1:39 46 11:34-35 46
1:40 185 12:1 125
1:40-42 40 12:1-8 160-61, 173,206
2:1-11 44 12:3 41, 186
2:4 185 12:12 125
2:9-10 44 13:1-10 125
2:13-22 206 13:1 52
2:15-19 48 13:2 52
3:3-4 44 13:8 41
3:5 44.48 13:23 40, 161, 186
3:6 48 13:23-24 151
3:14 50 13:29 173
3:14-16 52 14:1-7 49
3:18 52 14:12 49
4:1-26 44,48 14:17 49
4:13-14 134, 149, 206 14:27 118
4:15 50 14:27-28 49
4:29 185 15:1 137
4:35-37 42 15:1-11 97
4:39 40 15:5 137
4:44 20 15:12-14 42
4:46-54 44 -45, 206 15:13 53
5:1-9 44 ,45, 206 15:25 51
5:1-18 206 15:26 49
5:16 52 16:13 49
5:17 206 16:21 42
6:1-14 44, 45, 125, 149, 162 17:14-16 42
6:9-11 144 17:17-19 42
6:15-21 44,45 17:26 40
6:26 47, 149, 173 18:6 52
6:26-27 206 18:36 52
Index of Texts 235

19:7 52 9:14-29 26
19:25 41 9:30-32 26
19:26 185 11:7 26
19:30 42,49 11:11-16 26
20:1 122 11:25 26
20:11-18 41 12:1-2 29
20:16-17 186 12:1-3 138
20:17 49 13:1-7 29, 33, 35
20:19 118, 122 13:8-10 33
20:26 122 14:1-4 34
20:28 50 14:1-23 29,34
21:2 40 16:1-2 32, 182
21:9-13 144 16:3-4 182
21:20-24 40 16:5 111, 182
21:20-25 185 16:7 32, 183
1:11 31
Acts
2:42 131, 169 1 Corinthians
2:42-47 67, 124 1:26 34
6:1-6 159, 163, 173 2:7 35
8:7 199 2:8 35
8:9-13 199 3:5-9 136
9:36 179 4:9 26
10:1-11:18 11-12 5:1 32
10:2 11 5:3 183
13:1-3 25 5:7 98, 205
13:12 199 6:9-11 34
13:16-41 64, 178, 179 6:12-13 149
13:44-46 124 7:1 183
13:50 180 7:1-16 27
14:8-18 200 7:2 184
15:1-35 12-13, 70 7:3-4 183
15:20 156 7:4 31
16:6-10 25 7:5 184
16:13 180 7:6 31
16:13-14 11 7:8 30, 31, 184
16:14 14
16:15 29 7:10-11 30
16:16-18 200 7:14 31
17:4 180 7:17-24 33, 182
17:30 26 7:20 182
18:7 14.29 7:21 33
18:26 14 7:22 182
19:9 108 7:25-38 27
19:13-17 200 7:26-28 184
20:7 36, 124 7:29 31
20:8 108 7:29-31 27
21:23-24 29 7:30 122
7:32-35 31
Romans 7:36-38 31, 184
1:1 28 8:1 142
1:26-27 37 8:5-6 170
4:1 78 8:7-13 170
5:9 142 8:10 142
6:1-4 135 8:12-13 29
6:17 72 9:1 26
8:2 204 9:5 30
8:3 78 9:15-18 26
236 Index of Texts

1 Corinthians (continued) 3:28 32, 205

9:19-23 28 4:8-11 123
10:1-2 135 5:2-12 36
10:14-17 67
10:14-22 170, 205 Ephesians
10:16-17 170 2:14 118
10:17 183 2:20-22 66
10:18-22 170 5:21-6:9 187
10:20 146 5:23-24 176
10:21 34 5:26 135
5:32 66
10:23-30 156
10:25 170 Philippians
10:25-30 142, 143 3:5 25
10:31-11:1 29 3:6 29
11:2-16 182, 184 3:8 29
11:4 33 4:2-3 183
11:5 32
11:10 184 Colossians
11:11 183 2:16 37
11:14 33 2:16-17 123
11:16 34 3:18-4:1 187
11:17-22 34 4:15 111
11:20 124 1 Thessalonians
11:23-24 34 1:9 26
11:23-26 205 5:2 124
11:23-27 67, 122
11:27-32 183 2 Thessalonians
11:29-30 132 2:1-12 62
11:30 122
12:9 204 1 Timothy
12:12-31 183 2:8-15 187
14:23 34 4:3-4 135
14:26-33 34 4:14 65
11:26 67 5:1-2 187
12:4-7 204 5:23 135
14:33-36 34 6:1-2 187
14:34-35 184 6:12 72
15:5 186 2 Timothy
15:9 26 1:6 65
15:20-24 64 1:13 72
15:51-54 38 4:19 182
16:2 36, 204
16:2-3 122 Titus
16:22 67 2:1-10 187
3:1 187
2 Corinthians
4:16 37. 78 Philemon 33, 205
5:18-19 74 16 182
22 29
Galatians Hebrews
1:1 26 6:19 93
2 139, 142, 153, 203 10:35-39 62
2:11-21 13,34
3:5 142 James
3:27-28 182 2:15-16 172
Index of Texts 237

1 Peter Trail. 3:1 66

2:5-10 65 Trail. 7 82
2:11-3:12 1S7
Martyrdom ofPoly carp
2 Peter 18 166
2:13 173
3:8-9 62

1 John EARLY CHRISTIAN

4:13 186 WRITINGS
2 John
Acts of Peter
9 72
19-29 200
Jude
Acts of Peter and Paul
3 72
41 105
12 173
Augustine
Revelation
1:10 124 Conf. 6.2 112
5:6 98 Clement of Alexandria
18:11-14 ISO Paed. 2.1 150
21:6 134 Paed. 2.2 97
22:1 134
22:17 134 Cyprian
Unit. eccl. 6 94

Eusebius
APOSTOLIC FATHERS Hist. eccl. 4.22 60
Hist. eccl. 8.1.5 108
1 Clement
40 69 Hippolytus
44:2 81 Trad. ap. 26 174
2 Clement Justin Martyr
14 66 Dial. 80 78
Didache Minucius Felix
1:1 74 Octavius 32.1 108
10:6 67
Paulinus of Nola
Hermas Epist. 13.11 95
9-16 66
Tertullian
Ignatius Apol. 39 174 , 198
Eph.9 66 Bapt. 1 94
Eph. 18:2 135 Praescr. haer. 7 60
Eph. 20:2 67 Pud. 8 150
Magn. 4 81-82
Magn. 6:1 66
Magn. 13:2 62
Rom. 4:1 166 GRECO-ROMAN WRITING
Smyrn. 6:2b 174
Smyrn. 6:2c-7:l 174 Tacitus
Smyrn. 8:2 66 Hist. 5.5 10
 Index of Names

Achtemeier, P., 105 Bryant, C , 152

Aleith, E., 86 Bultmann, R., 63, 65, 61,16,11, 85,
Allison, D. C , 20 87
Alter, R., 130, 139 Burkett, D. R., 46
Arens, E., 30
Arrupe, P., 4 Campenhausen, H. von, 83
Avalos, H., 189 Carcopino, J., 117, 146
Carson, D. A., 124
Bacchiocchi, S., 36, 126 Chadwick, H., 28
Bagnall, R. S., 138, 147 Chadwick, O., 58, 59
Balch, D., 27, 29, 158, 187 Childe, G., 2
Banana, C , 1 Childs, B., 72, 73
Banks, R., I l l Collins, J., 9
Baron, S., 10 Congar, Y. M.-J., 58
Barr,J.,73 Conzelmann, H., 25, 64, 65
Barrett, C. K., 51 Corley, K. E., 148, 158, 159, 162,
Barth, E, 155 177
Bartlett, D., 194 Costa, R. O., 1
Batstone, D. B., 4 Cremer, H., 73
Baur, F. C , 68, 69, 70, 74, 75, 78, Crossan, J. D., 18, 2 1 , 22, 87, 104
79, 82, 85, 87 Crouch, J. E., 187
Beckwith, R. T., 119 Cullmann, O., 41, 63, 78
Benoit, A., 135 Culpepper, A. R., 47, 50, 185
Beskow, P., 176
Best, E., 17 Daille, J., 58
Boman, T., 72 Dalbert, P., 10
Borg, M., 20, 87, 148 Dalby, A., 144
Borgen, P., 45, 131, 132 Davidson, J. N., 138, 146, 156
Boring, M. E., 20 Davies,J. G., 107
Bosch, D. J., 1 Davies, S. L., 18, 86, 187, 197
Bossuet, J. N., 57 Detienne, M., 144
Bourguet, P. du, 163 Dhavamony, M., 2, 4
Bousset, W., 77, 83, 84 Dibelius, M., 85
Brandon, S. G. E, 17 Diel, P., 46
Brehier, E., 73 Dillow, J. C , 49
Bremen, R. van, 179 Dinkier, E., 117, 118
Brooten, B. J., 179 Diski,J., 135
Brown, P., 164, 168 D'Onofrio, S., 168
Brown, R., 51 Douglas, M., 129
Bruston, E., 62 Downing, E G., 122
Bruun, P., 93, 118 Drower, E. S., 135

238
Index of Names 239

Duke, P. D., 47 Harrington, H. K., 193

Dupont, E, 145, 146 Hatch, E., 71, 72, 76, 80, 82
Durkheim, E., 129 Hendrickx, H., 195
Dyggve, E , 109, 164 Herrmann, W., 71
Herskovits, M. J., 2, 3
Edwards, R. A., 18, 86 Hilary, M., 13
Eisenman, R. H., 22 Hill, C. C., 155
Erling, B., 74 Hills, J., 105
Esler, P., 139, 153, 156 Hodgson, P. C., 68
Hogan, L. P., 193
Fee, G., 34, 36 Hollenbach, P., 197
Feeley-Harnik, G., 130 Holtzmann. H. J., 77, 78
Feldman, D. M., 193 Hommel, H., 15
Feldman, L. H., 9, 10 Horsley, R., 17
Ferngren, G., 201 Hull, J. M., 194
Fieldhouse, P., 131 Humbert, P., 189
Filson, E, 41
Finn, T. H., 15 Idowu, B., 2
Fortna, R. T., 43 Ilan, T., 177
Frankfurter, D. T. M., 105, 106
Friedrich, G., 73 Jeremias, J., 30, 168
Frymer-Kensky, T., 177 J e r v e l l J , 178
Funk, R., 86 Jewett, R., 109
Johnson, L. T., 25, 51
Gager, J. G., 15 Johnson, W. A., 74
Gallagher, E. V., 201
Gartner, B., 131 Kajanto, I., 116
Geertz, C , 2 Kasemann, E., 20, 59, 63, 64, 65,
Goldstein, J., 9 66,84
Gooch, P. D., 143 Kegley, C. W., 74
Goodenough, E. R., 92, 96 Kettler, F.-H., 66
Goodman, M., 9, 10, 16 Klassen, W., 52
Goppelt, L., 85 Klauck, H.-J., I l l , 143
Gore, C , 81 Klauser, T., 112, 164
Gowers, E., 145, 152 Kloppenborg, J., 18, 86
Grabar, A., 164 Knox, W. L., 78
Grant, R. M., 65 Koester, H., 63
Gunkel, H., 82 Konikoff, A., 92
Gutierrez, G., 4 Kotting, B., 166
Guyon, J., 168 Kraabel, T.14, 15
Kraemer, R. S., 179
Haenchen, E., 17, 64 Krautheimer, R., 164, 167
Hall, B., 28 Krentz, E., 187
Hamman, A., 132, 174 Kretschmar, G., 86
Hanson, A. T., 79 Kysar, R., 51
Hanson, J., 17
Harnack, A. von, 60, 71, 72, 74, 76, Laeuchli, S., 86
77, 80, 81, 82, 83 Lampe, P., 109
240 Index of Names

Leon, H. J., 115, 117 Nighswander, D. L., 32

Lessing, G. E., 75 Nygren, A., 74
Levinskaya, I., 16
Levison, J. R., 4 Osiek, C., 115, 117
Levi-Strauss, C , 129 Otterloo, A. H. van, 130
Levy-Bruhl, L., 72 Over beck, R, 64
Lietzmann,H., 67, 169
Lieu, J. M . , 4 5 , 185 Pagels, E., 187
Lifshitz, B., 15 Patai, R., 135
Lightfoot, J. B., 80 Pedersen, J., 72, 169
Lindemann, A., 169 Perelmuter, H., 51
Linton, O., 80, 81 Petersen, N., 33
Ludemann, H., 77, 78 Pfleiderer, O., 69
Lundberg, R, 135 Piper, R. A., 18
Lundsteen, A. C , 75 Plaskow, J., 176
Pope-Levison, P., 4
Maccini, R. G., 185
Rajak, T., 115, 117
Macdonald, A. B., 82
Redfield, R., 2
MacDonald, M. Y., 179, 185
Reicke, B., 45, 167, 174
Mack, B. L., 18, 86
Reimarus, H. S., 75
Mackinnon, J., 77
Reimer, I. R., 178, 180
MacRae, G., 48
Rensberger, D., 39
Malina, B., 32, 131
Reumann, J., I l l
Martin, T. W., 123
Reynolds, J. M., 16
Martyn, J. L., 51 Richardson, C. C., 62
Marucchi, O., 164 Riesner, R., 17, 20
Massimo, G., 21 Ritschl, A., 70, 71, 72, 74, 75, 79,
Mauss, M., 129 82
Meeks, W., 18, 39, 40 Robbins, V., 17
Mennell, S., 130 Rordorf, W., 36, 121
Merton, R. K., 129 Rorem, P., 58
Meyer, M., 18 Rothe, R., 79
Milburn, R., 108 Rothkrug, L., 164, 165
Moberly, R. C., 79, 81 Rutgers, L. V., 1 3 , 9 2 , 1 1 7
Moxnes, H., 129
Mozley, J. K., 77 Sabatier, A., 83
Mueller, D. L., 70 Sanders, E. P., 20, 139, 155
Munck, J., 69 Sanders, J. N., 51
Murcott, A., 130 Sanneh, L., 2
Mussies, G., 116 Schelstrate, E., 58
Schineller, P., 2
Neusner, J., 13, 91 Schleiermacher, P., 70, 74, 75, 76, 83
Newman, J. H., 58, 59 Schlier, H., 66
Neyrey, J., 32 Schneiders, S. M., 4 1 , 186
Niditch, S., 177 Schottroff, L., 177, 180
Niebuhr, R. R., 75 Schreiter, R., 2
Index of Names 241

Schiissler Fiorenza, E., 4 1 , 162 Torjesen, K. J., 188

Schwegler, A., 85 Torrance, T. E, 84
Schweitzer, A., 18, 61, 62, 63, 64, Townsend, J. T , 51
75, 76, 87 Trebilco, P. R., 15, 178, 179
Schweizer, E., 77, 82 Tresmontant, C., 73
Scott, E. E, 82 Trigger, B. G., 2
Seager, A. R., 15 Troeltsch, E., 28, 84
Shorter, A., 2
Sillistone, T., 83 Unnik, W. C. van, 64
Smith, D., 141, 150
Vernant, J.-R, 144
Smith, R., 152
Verner, D. C., 187
Snyder, G. E, 28, 30, 34, 40, 50, 65,
Vielhauer, R, 64
99, 111, 117, 164, 167, 184, 1
Sohm, R., 81, 82, 83, 84 Wahlde, U. C. von, 43, 51
Soler, J., 130 Ward-Perkins, J. B., 109, 164
Song, S., 10, 11 Waser, O., 171
Stacey, W. D., 78 Weiss, J., 60, 61, 62, 75
Stark, R., 198 Werner, M., 62, 63
Stern, M., 11 Westermann, C., 189
Strauss, D. E, 76 White, M., I l l
Strzygowski, J., 107 Wiefel, W , 115
Subilia, V., 59 Wilken, R. L., 57, 60, 199
Sundberg, A. C , 51 Willis, W. L., 143
Swanson, T. D., 48 Winter, B., 27, 35, 36, 158, 188
Wire, A., 32
Talbert, C. H., 75 Wise, M., 22
Tannenbaum, R. E, 16 Wood, R. C., 130
Taussig, H. E., 141, 150 Wrede, W , 76
Taylor, V., 84
Theissen, G., 18 Zias,J., 189
Tilborg, S. van, 4 1 , 185 Ziegler, R , 79
 Index of Subjects

Entries to plate numbers refer to photographs

appearing between pages 88 and 89.

Acculturation, 2 - 3 , 86, 187-88 and shrines, 166

Adam and Eve, 140 vocabulary for, 117-18
Agape meal, 94, 96, 163, 169, 171,
173-74, plates 26-28 Cain and Abel, 140
Agape to eros, 73-74 Calendar, 210
Anchor, 93-94, 101, 135, plate 2 early Christian, 126-28
Andrew, 40 Fourth Gospel on, 125-26, 206
Angels, 197 in Jesus tradition, 202
Aphrodisias, 16 Jesus' rejection of, 120-22
Apocalypticism, 20, 6 0 - 6 2 Jewish, 120
in Fourth Gospel, 4 2 - 4 3 lunar and solar, 119
martyrs in, 128
Architecture, 208-9
Paul on, 36-37, 122-24, 204
antecedents to built forms, 108-9
Roman, 126
for burials, 112-14
Capitolina, Claudius, 16
symbolism in shapes of, 107 Catholic church, 57, 81-82. See also
synagogue, 108 Early Catholicism
see also Churches Celebrations. See Calendar
Art, representation. See Christian Cemeteries, covered, 113, 167
art; Jewish art Chaos, 133-35, 144
Assimilation, 2 Christian art, 208, plates 23-24
Daniel cycle, 100, plates 9-11
Baptism of Jesus, 101-2, 135, plates healing tradition in, 103-5, plates
13-14 12-16
Bar-Jesus, 199 miracle catenae in, 105-6
Beloved Disciple, 4 0 - 4 1 , 161, St. Peter excavations, 127, plates
185-86 21-22
Biblical theology, 72-73 use of vine in, 137
Birth of Jesus, 4 3 - 4 4 , 125, 127-28, water narratives, 101-3
plate 24 Christian burials, 117-18
Bishops, 79, 81, 166 Christian calendar, 126-28
Blood, 130, 137, 140-42, 148, 170 Christian inscriptions, 116-17,
Boat, 94, plate 3 plate 21
Bread Christianity
in meals, 131-32, 143, 144, 209 calendar of, 36-37
symbolism, 96-97, 131-32, 144, and other cultures, 1
205, plates 5-6 symbolism, 93-98
Burials see also Church transformations;
buildings for, 112-13 Jesus tradition
for martyrs, 167 Christian orthodoxy, 5

242
Index of Subjects 243

Christology, 50-51 Disciplina arcanum, 58

Churches Divorce, 3 0 - 3 1
call for caring in, 198 Dogma, 68-69, 71-72
house, 108-9, 110-12, 208 Dove, 95-96
Pauline tradition on, 34, 204
see also Architecture Early Catholicism, 57, 68, 70
Church transformations cause of, 70
agape to eros, 73-74 and dogma, 68, 69
approach to New Testament, and ecclesiasticism, 65
72-73 and loss of Spirit, 82, 84
collapse of eschatology, 6 0 - 6 8 Early Christianity. See Christianity;
debate on, 57-60 Jesus tradition
and dogma, 68-69 Easter, 64, 127-28
and dualistic anthropology, 77-78 Ecclesiasticism, 65-67
faith to dogma, 71-72 Elijah, ascension of, 127, plate 27
gospel to law, 84-86 Enculturation, 2-3
and loss of charisma, 82-84 Eschatology
ministry hierarchy, 78-82 collapse of, 6 0 - 6 8
of Spirit to Law, 69-70 in Fourth Gospel, 41-42
and understanding of Jesus, 75-77 Eucharist, 45, 67, 9 4 - 9 5 , 169
Circumcision, 36, 141, 148 Eustathios, 16
Clergy, 79
Coemeteria subteglata, 112-14, 128, Faith to dogma, 71-72
167 Family
Community and architecture, 110-12
healing and, 195-97 and gender roles, 183-84
Paul on, 32-34 Paul on, 30-32
through meals, 151-53 Feeding of the five thousand, 1 6 1 -
Cornelius, 11-12, 14 62, 206, plate 19
Cult of the martyr, 166 and agape meal, 169, 171, 174
Cult of the saints, 165-66 fish in, 94
Cultural domination, 3, 4 in Signs Source, 45
Culture, 2, 5. See also Inculturation Fish
Cynics, 121-22 in meals, 143-44, 145, 209
symbolism, 9 4 - 9 5 , plate 2, plate 6
Daniel in the Lions' Den, 100, 103. Fisher, The, 101
Plate 9 Food
Dead Jesus tradition on, 141
burial practices for, 112-14 methods of studying, 129-30
meals for, 112, 113-14, 164-71, Paul on, 141-43
208 symbolism, 130-41
Deculturization, 42, 48, 53, 205 see also Meals
Deliler, 16 Fourth Gospel
Demons, casting out, 197, 201 as anti-Judaic, 51-52
Diakonia, 198 author of, 4 0 - 4 1
Dietary laws, 11, 12 birth narrative in, 4 3 - 4 4
Disciples on calendar, 125-26
as agents of inculturation, 42 death/resurrection of Jesus in,
beloved, 4 0 - 4 1 , 161, 185-86 42-43
and Fourth Gospel author, 40 deculturation of Jesus in, 42, 48,
and Jesus' God-consciousness, 75 53, 205
washing of hands by, 148-49 eschatology in, 41-42
244 Index of Subjects

Fourth Gospel (continued) and concern for caring, 198

feeding stories in, 162 Fourth Gospel on, 206
on feeding the poor, 172-73 in Hebrew Scriptures, 189-91
on food, 149 in Jesus tradition, 159, 193-97,
gender roles in, 1 6 0 - 6 1 , 185-86, 202
207 Pauline tradition on, 204
on healing, 206 in Second Temple Judaism, 191-93
miracle catena in, 23-24 in Signs Source, 4 4 - 4 6
place of origin, 3 9 - 4 0 see also Health and healing
Signs Source in, 4 4 - 4 6 Healing of the Paralytic, 103-4
see also Johannine tradition Health and healing. See healing
Hellenism, 61-62, 70
Gender roles, 210-11 and approach to New Testament,
in early church, 186-88 73
in Fourth Gospel, 185-86, 207 and cultic Spirit, 83
Greco-Roman, 177 dualistic anthropology of, 78
Jesus tradition on, 180-81, 202-3 and faith, 71
in Judaism, 177-80 and God-consciousness, 77
Pauline tradition on, 204 symbols, 99-100
see also Women Historicization, 6 3 - 6 5
Gender symbolism, 175-77 Hospitals, 201
Gentiles House churches, 108-9, 110-12,
calendar of, 36, 37 208
conversion to Judaism, 10 Household codes, 186-88
eating with Jesus, 141-42
eating with Jews, 153-55 Idols
Noachic code for, 12-13 eating with, 142-43
Paul on, 25-26 meat offered to, 169-70
see also God-fearers Incarnational theology, 62-63
Gnosticism, 65, 66, 68 Inculturation, 4 - 5 , 206-7
God-fearers, 14-15, 210 and calendar, 126
inscriptions of, 15-17 Jewish, 1 0 - 1 1 , 13-14
and women, 178, 180 John on, 39
Good Shepherd, 97-98, 198, plate 7 Paul on, 25-27, 28-30
Gospel and sharing meals, 155
authenticity of, 86-87 Inscriptions
to law, 84-86 Christian, 116-17, plate 21
see also Fourth Gospel; Synoptic of God-fearers, 15-17
Gospels Jewish, 115-16, plate 1
Gospel of John. See Fourth Gospel
Greco-Roman culture, 1, 9 1 , 92 Jesus
gender roles in, 177 absolute and history in, 68
gender symbolism, 175, 176 and anti-Judaism, 50, 51-52
and healing, 194, 199, 201 and apocalypticism, 60
meals, 138, 143-44 and Beloved Disciple, 4 0 - 4 1
women in, 158 birth of, 42-44, 125, 127-28
see also Roman culture deculturization of, 42, 48, 53, 205
as healer, 193-94, 195-97
Healing, 211-12 language spoken by, 115
and community formation, 195- and Mary, 41
97 at meal with Mary and Martha,
competition in, 199-201 162-63
Index of Subjects 245

miracles by, 21-24 eating with Gentiles, 141-42

in Palestinian culture, 17-18 and God-fearers, 14-17
persecuted by Jews, 51-52 inscriptions, 115-16, plate 1
portrayed in art, 101-2, 176-77 missionaries, 9-13, 17
as prophet, 2 0 - 2 1 see also Jewish meals; Jewish
relationship with women, 185-86 symbolism; Judaism
as teacher, 18-19 Johannine tradition, 49-50, 205-7.
washing of feet, 4 1 , 1 6 0 - 6 1 , 186, See also Fourth Gospel
206 John. See Fourth Gospel; Johannine
see also Jesus tradition tradition
Jesus Seminar, 86-87 John the Baptist, 147-48
Jesus tradition Jonah Cycle, 102, 103, plate 15
on community, 34 Judaism
competition in healing, 199-201 and church transformation, 70
feeding of the poor in, 172-74 gender roles in, 177-80, 210-11
on food, 141, 148-50 health and healing in, 191-93
gender roles in, 180-81, 186-88 and Johannine tradition, 51-52
God-consciousness of, 75-77 at time of Jesus, 13-14
healing in, 193-97 universalizing, 2 6 - 2 7
impact on Roman culture, 207-13 see also Jewish meals; Jewish
and inculturation, 4 - 5 symbolism; Jews
and Jewish calendar, 120-22 Judas, 173
Johannine, 205-7. See also Fourth Julian calendar, 123
Gospel
on marriage, 30, 31 Kashrut, 139, 143
and mission of Jews, 9 Laity, 79
nature in, 37 Lamb, 98
Pauline, 2 0 3 - 5 . See also Paul Language, spoken by Jesus, 115
sharing meals in, 156-57 Last Supper, 34, 67, 137, 151
Synoptic, 202-3 Lazarus, 41
table arrangement in, 150-51 raising of, 46
women in meals, 159-63 in representation art, 103, 104
see also Jesus Leadership, women in, 31-32,
Jesus Walking on Water, 101 178-80, 182-83
Jewish meals, 146-48, 209 Liberation theology, 4
as builder of community, 152-53 Lord's Supper, 122
for the dead, 168-69 Luke
eating with Gentiles, 153-55 feeding stories in, 161
for the poor, 171-72 and God-fearers, 14
Jesus tradition on, 149-50 and Noachic code, 12
women in, 157-58 use of history, 6 3 - 6 4
Jewish symbolism, 91-93, 130-31 on women, 159, 160, 178
bread, 131-32 Lunar calendar, 119, 120, 126-27,
gender, 176-77 210
meat, 139-41 Paul on, 123-24
water, 132-36 Rome and, 126
wine, 136-39
Jews Magic, 199-201
art, 99, plate 8 Mark, 159, 160
burials, 117-18 feeding stories in, 161
calendar, 120-22, 124, 126-27 miracle catena in, 23
246 Index of Subjects

Marriage, 27, 183-85. See also Moses Striking the Rock, 102,
Family plate 16
Martha, 4 1 , 162-63, 185 Myth, 2
Martyria, 112, 113, 128,208
Martyrs Names, 115-17
burials for, 112-14 Nature, 37-38
in calendar, 128 Noachic Code, 12-13
meals for dead, 166-67 Noah's Ark, 101, plate 12
Mary, 4 1 , 162. See also Mary
Magdalene; Mary of Bethany Olive branch, 95
Mary Magdalene, 49, 161, 186 Orante figure, 100, 101, 102, 208,
and Beloved Disciple, 41 plate 4, plate 15
intimacy with Jesus, 206-7
at meal with Jesus, 162-63 Panticapaeum, 15
Mary of Bethany, 4 1 , 185, 207 Parousia, the, 62, 63, 64, 65
washing Jesus' feet, 160, 186, 206 Passion narrative, 47
Matthew, 159, 160, 161 Passover meal, 121, 122, 125-26,
Mausolea, 112 168-69
Meals, 209-10 Paul
community as function of, 151-53 on calendar, 36-37, 122-24
for the dead, 112, 113-14, on community, 32-34
164-71, 208 conflict with Peter, 69
early Christian, 143 on family, 30-32
eating with idols, 142-43 on feeding of the poor, 172
fish in, 94 on food, 141-43, 149, 150
in Fourth Gospel, 205-6 on gender roles, 182-85
Greco-Roman, 138, 143-44 as healer, 199-200
in Jesus tradition, 148-51, 1 5 6 - on inculturation, 25-27, 28-30,
57, 202 53
Jewish, 146-48 on marriage, 27
Jews/Gentiles sharing, 141-42, on meals for the dead, 169-71
153-55 on nature, 37-38
Paul on, 67, 2 0 3 - 4 on Roman Empire authority,
for the poor, 171-74 35-36
Roman menu, 145-46 as synagogue preacher, 14
women in, 157-58, 159-64, 177, Pauline Jesus tradition, 2 0 3 - 5 . See
plates 25-28 also Paul
see also Food Peter, 11-12, 40, 69
Meat, 145 Philip, 199
in Jesus tradition, 148 Physicians, 192-93
offered to idols, 169-70 Poor, meals for, 171-74
symbolism, 139-41 Priests, 80
Memoria apostolorum, 167 Prostitutes, 158, 181, 210
Men. See Gender roles, marriage Protestants, on church trans-
Miletus, 15 formations, 57, 58, 59,
Ministry hierarchy, 78-82 68-69
Miracle catenae, 21-24, 103, 105-6
Missionaries, 1 Q tradition, 18, 22, 86
and cultural domination, 3
Jewish, 9-13, 17 Roman basilica, 109-10
types of activity, 16-17 Roman calendar, 126
Index of Subjects 247

Roman culture wine, 136-39

impact of Jesus tradition on, see also Christian art
207-13 Synagogue, 108
menu, 145-46 presence of God-fearers in, 15-17
Paul on authority of, 35-36 Synoptic Gospels, 121, 159, 172
see also Greco-Roman culture seminar studying, 86-87
use of vine in, 136-37
Sabbath day, 11 see also Fourth Gospel; Gospel
Jesus on, 120-21 Synoptic Jesus tradition, 202-3
and Jewish calendar, 120, 124
and Saturn, 126, 127 Table arrangement, 146
Sacramentalism, 67-68 in Jesus tradition, 150-51,162-64
Saints, cult of, 165-66 Temple, cleaning of, 47-50
Sardis Synagogue, 15 Three Young Men in the Fiery
Second Temple Judaism, 191-93, Furnace, The, 95, 96, 100,
197 plate 10
Shamanism, 201 Tralles, 16
Shona history, 1
Shrines, 166 Vase, 97, plate 5
Signs Source, 4 4 - 4 6 Vernal equinox, 127-28
Simon, 199 Vine and grapes, 97, 136-39,
Slavery, 28, 33, 205 144-45
Social matrix, 2, 3 Washing of Jesus' feet, 4 1 , 1 6 0 - 6 1 ,
Solar calendar, 119, 120, 210 186, 206
Paul on, 123, 124 Water
Spirit, 42, 44, 48-50 in Fourth Gospel, 44, 48
substituted by church, 82-83 in representation art, 101-3
to law, 69-71 symbolism, 132-36, 144, 205
wine and 139, 145, 205 walking on, 45
St. Peter's excavation, 127, plates Wine
21-22 changing water to, 44
Suburban villa, 109 in meals, 209
Susanna and the Elders, 100, plate 11 symbolism of, 136-39, 144-45,
Symbolism, 207-8 205, plate 5
in architecture, 107 Winter solstice, 127
bread, 131-32 Woman at the Well, 102-3
early Christian, 93-98, plates 2-7 Women
gender, 175-77 equality of, 33-34
Greco-Roman gender, 175 in Greco-Roman world, 158
Hellenism, 99-100 in Jesus tradition meals, 1 5 9 - 6 3 ,
in Jesus tradition, 203 plates 25-28
Jewish, 13, 91-93 at Jewish meals, 157-58
meat, 139-41 see also Gender roles; Marriage
Pauline tradition on, 205
water, 132-36 Zimbabwe, 1, 3