Most proposed reconstructions of Christian origins make the idea of salvation the basal thought of the new religion. The validity of this assumption can scarcely be doubted. Christianity from the beginning was unquestionably and pre-eminently a religion of salvation-a salvation which is primarily of divine origin and which is revealed and mediated in the career of a Jesus who thereby becomes the unique object of men's faith and reverence. These are essential items in Christian thinking at a very early date.

What is the incentive which starts this new religion on its way? This is the question on which opinion divides. Usually it has been supposed that a unique historical personality, known in tradition as Jesus of Nazareth, made so strong an impression upon men that a new faith reared itself about his person. The critics whose views we are investigating propose a very different answer. They think it

90

absurd to imagine that any historical individual could be given so elevated a position in the thought of men with whom he had been personally associated. His supposed historical form is merely a fanciful portrait giving a concrete setting to the abstract notion that salvation is the outcome of the deity's own activity. Thus the modern radicals hypostatize the salvation-idea, making it of itself the creative force in the genesis of the new religion. The problem of Christianity's origin then becomes the question, How did this conception come into being, and where and when are its earliest "Christian" manifestations to be found?

Bauer and Kalthoff, it will be remembered, looked for the answer to these questions in the Graeco-Roman life of the first and second centuries A. D. Their solution is now generally discarded even by the radicals, who admit that in the third century Christianity is too strongly entrenched in the Roman empire to bring the date of its origin down as late as Bauer and Kalthoff proposed. Moreover the Jewish background of the new religion is too evident to permit of so unconditional a transfer of its birthplace to heathen soil. The solution more commonly offered nowadays finds the primitive

91

Christians' doctrine of salvation to be less a product of their own experience and more a loan from the contemporary heathen religions. It is pointed out that belief in a redeeming divinity was current at an early date and had found expression in nature myths, in the tenets and practices of secret cults, and in gnostic speculations. Christianity represents the result of a borrowing and recasting of this fundamental conception. The beginnings of the process can no longer be traced with certainty, but they are assigned with confidence to pre-Christian times. This evolution went on both in Palestine and in Hellenistic Judaism, and attained the status of an independent religion at about the time Christianity is traditionally said to have come into existence. Such, in outline, is the radicals' understanding of Christianity's origin.

If the kernel of Christianity, the salvation-idea, was thus merely a notion borrowed from the ancient faiths, why did it create for itself a new divinity in the person of Jesus, and whence did it derive its unique vitality? Those would seem to be crucial questions for the radicals' constructive hypothesis to answer.

Bauer and Kalthoff attempted to meet

92

similar problems by depicting a new set of human experiences as the source of Christianity's new thought and power. A new type of experience called forth the Jesus-portrait, while the timely elements incorporated in the picture assured his prestige. The later representatives of the radical school do not entirely discard this line of thought, though they find these new experiences to be the product of a different set of surroundings. The struggle of ideas in the life and culture of the ancient world are held to have made important contributions to nascent Christianity. Indeed, its success is ascribed in no small degree to its fortunate practice of gathering to itself the best elements in the thought of the time, yet fundamental to all this is the notion of a redeeming savior god, Jesus. He is not the product of this experience; belief in him was anterior to, and was the norm for determining the interpretation of, these new experiences, according to the more recent theory of Christian origins.

But if Jesus' career is mainly a replica, so to speak, of the career of Adonis-Attis-etc., why was his figure created ? Why posit a new god to embody an old idea? The radicals are now meeting this question by asserting that Jesus is

93

not a new god. Just as the various peoples of the Orient were wont to rebaptize old divinities with new or reconstructed attributes, so the Christian Jesus is merely a rehabilitation of Joshua, who is said to be originally the deified personification of the salvation-concept of the Hebrews. By thus admitting a substantial Jewish basis for the new religion, our question as to why Christian thought did not revolve about the person of some heathen deity is answered.

This Jesus-divinity accordingly antedates the Jesus of the gospels, and supplants him as the concrete focus about which that type of thinking, ultimately denominated "Christianity," first gathers. Here our second question, regarding the secret of the new religion's vitality, also would seem to find its answer. To insure effectiveness for the salvation-idea it must be attached to the career of a person. In other words it must be dramatized, even though the dramatis persona be a fictitious character. As evidence of this demand for personification, one may point to the figure of Adonis among the Syrians, Attis among the Phrygians, the Persian Mithra, the Babylonian Tammuz, the Egyptian Osiris. When the historical

94

Jesus, who is usually supposed to have played this role for Christians, disappears, his place is filled by this fictitious Joshua-Jesus character whose personality, it is maintained, supplies the vitalizing element for the primitive Christian faith. And by a happy combination, in this idealized person, of the best elements of Jewish as well as heathen thought, he thus becomes a uniquely powerful centrifugal force not only in the genesis but also in the expansion of the new religion, even though this new movement early grew to be a competitor in the same field with its assumed ancestral kinsmen.

Thus this pre-Christian Jesus-divinity is a figure of great importance for the modern radicals. It is true that not all writers of this school place equal stress upon his importance, for they do not all give equal attention to the minuter problems pertaining to a constructive theory of Christian origins. But just in proportion as they overlook him do they fail to make any serious attempt to show why primitive Christianity was so characteristically a religion of faith in Jesus the Messiah, while they also fail to supply in any plausible way a concrete initial force for the origin of the new religion. Nor do they provide any vital focus,

95

even theoretically, for the distinctive thought of early Christianity.

But what if it should turn out upon investigation that the doctrine of a pre-Christian Jesus-divinity never had any vogue in ancient times! Can the historicity of this belief be demonstrated? Or is the doctrine created by the modern skeptics in their search for a personal substitute-and most of them are now taking their problem seriously enough to realize the need of this personal substitute-for the alleged Jesus of gospel history? We shall not pronounce upon this question without a careful examination of the data. Therefore we present with some minuteness the supposed evidence for a primitive belief in a pre-Christian Jesus.

To begin with, there is no gainsaying the fact that the word "Jesus" is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew "Joshua." But this coincidence cannot of itself establish any connection between these individuals. If other men did not bear the same name the case might be different, but the name is a very common one among the Jews. According to Weinel,[1] it belongs to no less than twenty different persons in Josephus' narrative alone. Proof for the

[1] Ist das "liberale" Jesusbild widerlegt? p. 92.

96

contention that Jesus is the perpetuation of a Joshua-deity needs a more substantial basis than the mere identity of names. As a further argument it is urged, by Drews for example, that Joshua was a cult-god, and that the points of resemblance between his career and the life of Jesus, portrayed in the gospels, establish the identity of the two as originally a Jewish divinity. To illustrate, each name signifies "deliverer," "savior"; Joshua's mother (according to an Arabic tradition!) was Miriam, and the mother of Jesus was Mary (Miriam); Joshua led Israel out of distress in the wilderness into the land of promise where milk and honey flowed, that is, the land of the Milky Way and the moon, and Jesus also led his followers into the heavenly kingdom. All this is in turn traceable to an ancient cult of the sun, the Greek legend of Jason forming the connecting link. Jason = Joshua = Jesus. Jesus with his twelve disciples passing through Galilee came to the Passover feast at Jerusalem, Joshua with his twelve helpers passed through the Jordan and offered the Paschal lamb on the other shore, Jason with his twelve companions went after the golden fleece of the lamb, and all originally was the myth of the sun's wandering

97

through the twelve signs of the Zodiac. Thus Joshua-Jesus was an old Ephraimitish god of the sun and of fertility, worshiped among many Jewish sects as the hero-deliverer of ancient Israel and the future messianic savior.

This is a bold reconstruction, but it is fatally weak at some essential points. When one asks for explicit evidence of a Joshua-cult among the Jews he finds no answer. Again, is there anywhere in Judaism a clear intimation that Joshua was the hero about whom messianic hopes centered? Here also evidence fails. And as for resemblances between the Jesus of the gospels and this alleged cult-god, Joshua, they do not touch the main features in the career of either personage. Take even the notion of the death and resurrection of a savior-god, which is the item so much emphasized by the radicals, and there is no parallel in this respect between Joshua and Jesus. In fact the only real link between them is the identity of name, a feature of no consequence as we have already observed, when one recalls the frequency of this name among the Jews.

The most explicit statement that Jesus belongs to pre-Christian times is found in Epiphanius, and is corroborated by the Babylonian

98

Talmud. Epiphanius, arguing that the high-priestly office in the church is in the line of direct succession from David,[1] sees a prophetic significance in such scriptures as Ps.
132:11 f. and Gen. 49:10, which affirm that David's seed should continue to occupy his throne, and the scepter should not depart from Israel, until that final successor of David, in whom the people's hopes were to find consummation, should appear. On this basis Epiphanius interprets history as follows:[2]

The priesthood in the holy church is David's throne and kingly seat, for the Lord joined together and gave to his holy church both the kingly and the high-priestly dignity, transferring to it the never-failing [mh dialeiponta eis ton aiwna] throne of David. For David's throne endured in line of succession until the time of Christ himself, rulers from Judah not failing until he came "to whom the things kept in reserve belonged. And he was the expectation of the gentiles." With the advent of the Christ the rulers in line of succession from Judah, reigning until the time of the Christ himself, ceased. For the line fell away and stopped from the time when he was born in Bethlehem of Judea under Alexander, who was of priestly and royal race. From Alexander on this office ceased-from the days of Alexander and Salina, who is also

[1] Cf. a similar interest in Justin, Dial., LII, 3.

[2] Haer., XXIX, 3. Cf. LI, 22 ff.

99

called Alexandra, to the days of Herod the king and Augustus the Roman emperor.

After remarking upon the fact that Alexander was both king and high priest, Epiphanius continues:

Then afterward a foreign king, Herod, and no longer those who were of the family of David, put on the crown; while in Christ the kingly seat passed over to the church, the kingly dignity being transferred from the fleshly house of Judah and Jerusalem; and the throne is set up in the holy church of God forever, having a double dignity because of both its kingly and its high-priestly character.

In this argument Epiphanius' chief interest clearly is dogmatical rather than historical. Thinking, as he does, that Alexander Jannaeus (104-78 B. C.) was the last of the Jewish kings to combine in one person the offices of both king and high priest, he is led by his Old Testament proof-texts to assume that Jesus was the immediate successor of Alexander. Then Jesus must have been born during Alexander's reign.[1] This is the logic of dogma. But with magnificent inconsistency Epiphanius returns to history and speaks of a gap extending from the time of Alexander to the time of Herod. Why

[1] Cf. the anachronism of Justin, Apol., I, 31, making Herod and Ptolemy Philadelphus contemporary.

100

mention an interim whose ulterior limit is fixed by the names of Herod and Augustus? Doubtless because this limit marks the actual appearance of Jesus upon the scene, as Epiphanius is well aware. Indeed he is very emphatic in affirming that Jesus was born in the forty-second year of Augustus' reign.[1] By forcing Epiphanius to read us a new lesson in history, when he is primarily concerned to prove the kingly and high-priestly inheritance of the church in an unbroken succession from David, we do him a great injustice. We should remember that the major premise of his thinking is that no word of Scripture fails.[2] It is not at all improbable that he was well aware of the contradiction involved in placing Christ's birth in the time of Alexander-his language does not imply that he held any doctrine about the "hiding" of the Messiah-but he took refuge in the pious reflection that Scripture might be enigmatical but could not be erroneous.[3] Yet his inconsistency ought not to cause serious trouble for moderns, who

[1] Haer., LI, 22. Epiphanius apparently reckons the beginning of Augustus' reign from Julius Caesar's death in 44 B. C.

[2] oudemia gar lexiV ths agiaV tou qeou grafhV diapiptei.

[3] ou gar dihmarte ti twn apo thV agiaV grafhV ainigmatwn.

101

have discarded the ancient custom of using assumed Old Testament predictions as source materials for the writing of later history. Epiphanius clearly was trapped by the logic of his dogmatic into suggesting that Jesus was born under Alexander.

The Babylonian Talmud twice narrates the story of a certain Jeshu who lived in the days of King Jannaeus, and who is said to have practiced magic, and corrupted and misled Israel.[1] The Christian Jesus is evidently meant, since "Jeshu" is a common Talmudic designation for him. But the historical reliability of the story is very doubtful. It so happens that the older Palestinian Talmud contains a parallel to this story, [2] in which there is no mention of "Jeshu." An undesignated disciple of Jehuda ben Tabai stands in his place. Evidently the Babylonian form of the story has been worked up in the interest of Jewish polemic against Christianity. And since most of the Talmudic references to Jesus seem to have been inspired by some item of Christian teaching,

[1] Sanhedrin 107b and Sola 47a. For the full narrative see Strack, Jesus, die Häretiker und die Christen nach den ältesten jüdischen Angaben (Leipzig, 1910), pp. 10 f.

[2] Hag. 2, 2; cf. Strack, op. cit., pp. 9 f.

102

it is barely possible that just the sort of argument Epiphanius used to prove that the church was in the line of direct succession from David, thus connecting Jesus with Alexander, is behind this similar Talmudic tradition.

Epiphanius makes two further statements which are sometimes thought to point to a pre-Christian Jesus. He says that there were Nazarees (or Nasarees)[1] before Christ, and that Philo once wrote a treatise describing the early Christian community in Egypt.[2] If there was a well established Christian church in Egypt in Philo's day, and if the Nazarees were in existence in pre-Christian times, are we not to infer that Christianity was known in the first century B. C.? Epiphanius himself says that Christians were first known as Nazorees, so that the similarity of names suggests a close relation for the two bodies. Moreover Philo, who was a man of advanced age in 40 A. D. when he headed the Jewish embassy to Rome, can hardly

[1] He uses the form Nazaraioi in Haer., XVIII, 1-3, and XIX, 5, but Nasaraioi in XXIX, 6. Cf. Schwen in Protestantische Monatshefte, XIV (1910), 208-13 and Nestle in ibid., 349 f. On the genesis of Epiphanius' phraseology, cf. Schmidtke, Neue Fragmente und Untersuchungen zu den Judenchristlichen Evangelien (Leipzig, 1911), pp. 90 ff.; cf. Bousset in Theologische Rundschau, XIV (1911), 373 ff.

[2] Haer., XXIX, 5.

103

have seen Christianity, on the traditional view of its origin, so firmly established in Egypt as is implied in the treatise to which Epiphanius refers. Hence we are to look for the beginnings of the new religion in the first century B. C., so the argument runs.

On examining the data more closely it very soon becomes evident that Epiphanius has no thought of connecting Christianity with the Jewish Nazarite heresy. He places the latter's origin before the Christian era and classes it along with the Hemerobaptists, etc. On the other hand, he describes Christian heretics whom he designates Nazorees [Nazwraioi], distinguishing with perfect clearness between them and the Jewish non-Christian Nazarees. The difference is not merely one of name; they have very distinct characteristics. The Nazarees are distinguished for the unorthodoxy of their Jewish beliefs and practices; the Nazorees are pre-eminently rigid Jews who have added to their Judaism a smattering of Christian belief. Hence they derive their name from Jesus the Nazorite, the name by which the Christians were called before they received the designation "Christians" at Antioch. Epiphanius' thought is often very hazy, but on this

104

subject he is perfectly clear. There was among the Jews even before the Christian era a heresy of the Nazarees; then came the Christian movement, which at first was known as the sect of the Nazorees and which finds its proper continuation, as Epiphanius takes great pains to prove, in the catholic church; and finally there was a third class who took upon themselves the primitive Christian name of Nazorees but who adhered so rigidly to Judaism that Epiphanius curtly remarks, "they are Jews and nothing else."[1]

Whether there ever was such an array of sects bearing a similar name-and Epiphanius adds yet another, the Nazirees, represented by Samson in the Old Testament and later by John the Baptist[2]-may be questioned. Judging from the same writer's skill in splitting the original Essenes up into Jessees, Ossenes, and Ossees, we may wonder whether he did not occasionally invent a name, in his ardor to defend Nicene orthodoxy against every "hydra-headed serpent of error" that could ever possibly have existed whether commonly known or not. But one thing at least is clear. His

[1] Haer., XXIX, 7.

[2] Ibid., XXIX, 5.

105

statements about Nazarees, Nasarees, Nazorees, and Nazirees involve no ambiguity whatever as to the date of Christianity's origin. The traditional date is the only one suggested. Those who argue for a pre- Christian Jesus can find nothing for their purpose here except the bare mention of the early existence of a Jewish Nazarite heresy. To prove the reliability of this statement, and to show further that the sect was "Christian" in character, is another problem. Epiphanius supplies no argument for this. He does not even so describe the Nazarees as to suggest characteristics which show them to have been precursors of the Christian movement.

On the other hand, Epiphanius clearly states that there was in Egypt a Christian community about which Philo wrote. If this is so, then in all probability it existed before, or at least contemporaneously with, the Jesus of the gospels. Here it is a question of tracing and testing Epiphanius' sources of information. He was writing in the latter part of the fourth century, and we may suppose that he availed himself of the works of Philo, Josephus, and Eusebius. He may indeed have had other sources of which we now have no knowledge,

106

but on the basis of these alone some of his riddles can be unraveled.[1]

Philo, in his tractate Quod omnis probus liber, describes a sect of Jews called Essees ['Essaioi] because of their saintly ['osioV] character. These are readily recognized as the Essenes ['Esshnoi] mentioned by Josephus.[2] Their characteristics are too well known to need further comment.[3] In another treatise[4] Philo

[1] The character of Epiphanius' sources of information and the historical value of his statements are puzzling problems which need reworking. Cf. the still valuable works of Lipsius, Zur Quellenkritik des Epiphanius (Wien, 1865) and Hilgenfeld, Die Ketzergeschichte des Urchristentums (Leipzig, 1884). Tradition represents him to have been a man of great learning who had traveled much and read widely, yet it is evident that he was swayed by a tremendous zeal for orthodoxy.

[2] Philo had no scruples in deriving the name of a Jewish sect from a Greek source. But the variation of spelling seems to point rather to an Aramaic original, [ARAMAIC] and [ARAMAIC], which are plural forms from [ARAMAIC].

[3] See Schürer, Geschichte des jüdischen Volkes im Zeitalter Jesu Christi (Leipzig, 1904, II, 561-80. English tr., History of the Jewish People in the Time of Jesus Christ, New York, 1891, Div. II, Vol. II, 188-218); also article "Essenes" in the Bible dictionaries.

[4] The authorship of De vita contemplativa, so long debated, seems finally to have been decided in Philo's favor. See F. C. Conybeare, Philo about the Contemplative Life
(Oxford, 1895); Massebieau, "Le traité de la vie contemplative et la question des thérapeutes," Revue de l'histoire des religions, XVI (1887), 170-98 and 284-319; Wendland, "Die Therapeuten" in Jahrbücher für classische Philologie, XXII (Suppl.), 1896, 692-770.

107

describes a sect somewhat akin to the Essenes, but less widely diffused among the Jews and more distinctly monastic in its type of life. Its principal colony was on an eminence on the southern shore of Lake Mareotis near Alexandria. The members of the society called themselves Therapeutes [qerapeutai], either meaning "healers" of men's souls, or "servants" of God. In Eusebius' day, when the Christians had come to prize highly the monastic ideal, this early sect seemed to be the natural precursor of Egyptian encratic Christian orders of the late third century A. D. Accordingly it was assumed that at this early date Christianity had been planted in Egypt through the labors of John Mark. And to account for Philo's friendliness toward the movement-for he wrote of the Therapeutes in terms of evident approval-it was suggested that at the time he conducted the embassy to Rome he had met and been favorably impressed by Peter.[1]

When these materials pass under the magic touch of Epiphanius, what is the result? In the first place, the Essees (or Essenes) of Philo and Josephus disappear. Epiphanius' Essenes,

[1] Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., II, 16 f. According to later tradition Philo became a convert under Peter's preaching (Photius, Cod. 105).

108

who later become Ossenes and still later Ossees, are one of four subdivisions of the Samaritans. It may seem very strange that he should leave a lacuna in his array of heretics by removing the Essenes from among the Jews. But does he leave any vacancy by this removal? Has he not filled the gap with his pre-Christian Jewish heresy of the Nazarees, of which we have already spoken? In describing them[1] he made it one of their chief characteristics that they rejected the system of animal sacrifice connected with the Temple; and this was a notable tenet of the Essenes, as described by Philo and Josephus. The name "Nazarees" may have been suggested by the Old Testament Nazirees, whom Epiphanius is so careful to distinguish from the Christian heresy of the Nazorees. Thus the Essenes, who straightway become Jessees, Ossenes, etc., are reserved for a yet more important service. We may pass by the Ossenes-Ossees (was the spelling suggested by Philo's derivation of the name from osioV?) without further comment. Our interest is with the Jessees.

Epiphanius adopts the Eusebian tradition that Christianity was planted in Egypt by

[1] Haer., XVIII, 1-3.

109

Mark,[1] and that Philo's Therapeutes were the primitive Christians. But the title of Philo's treatise was, according to Epiphanius, Concerning Jessees [peri Iessaiwn]. In the opening paragraph of De vita contemplativa Philo speaks of the Therapeutes in a way to indicate that he regarded them as a type of Essees (Essenes). They were the Essees of the contemplative life in contrast with the Essees of the practical life. So it would not have been wholly incongruous to refer to his tractate as Concerning Essees [peri Essaiwn]. But whence came Concerning Jessees?[2] Epiphanius introduces the subject of the Jessees as a part of his argument for the continuation of the Davidic throne in the catholic church. Speaking of the early followers of Jesus before they were first called Christians at Antioch, he says:

They were called Jessees after Jesse, I think. Since David was descended from Jesse, and Mary was in the direct line of succession from the seed of David, the Divine Scriptures according to the Old Testament are fulfilled, the Lord having said to David, "of the fruit of thy loins I will place one upon thy throne."

[1] Haer., XXIX, 5; LI, 6.

[2] The regular title is peri biou qewrhtikou, or iketai h peri aretwn to d'.

110

After carrying through his argument along this line, Epiphanius comes back to the word "Jessees" and admits the opportunist character of his previous explanation. He still thinks it may have come from "Jesse," yet it may have come from "Jesus," "for Jesus in the Hebrew dialect signifies Therapeute [qerapeuths], i. e., physician and savior."[1] Why are we here introduced to the Therapeutes? Evidently because the objective basis of the author's thought in this connection is Philo's Therapeutes, coupled with the Eusebian tradition that these were primitive Christians. Epiphanius wishes to find them a more appropriate name, and this he has done to his satisfaction in the word Jessees. It answers his purpose in several directions. He can check it off theologically with Jesse, etymologically (through Therapeutes) with Jesus, analogically with Essees (the general class of which Philo speaks), and historically with Therapeutes (the specific term used by Philo).

Thus Epiphanius, as a witness for the pre-Christian date of Jesus and of Christianity, is a distinct failure. We have dwelt thus at length upon this subject because his assertion

[1] See Haer., XXIX, 1, 4.

111

that Jesus was born in the time of Alexander Jannaeus, his mention of pre-Christian Nazarees, and his suggestion of a connection between "Jesus" and "Therapeutes" seem to us to represent the most substantial data which the radicals have to offer in support of their position.

There are however a few other items of evidence which they regard as giving further positive substantiation to their hypothesis. Among the most explicit of these are two passages from a papyrus fragment containing formulas of exorcism. They run as follows:[1] orkizw se kata tou marparkouriq· nasaari· . . . (l. 1549) and orkizw se kata qeou twn Ebraiwn Ihsous· Iaba · Iah · . . . (ll. 3019 f.). The significant word in the first formula is nasaari, since it is thought to be a reference to the "Nazarite." But the import of the second passage is much more certain. Here Jesus is clearly mentioned: "I adjure thee by the god of the Hebrews, Jesus, Jaba, Jae, etc." If the formula is pre-Christian it would seem to be positive evidence for the

[1] The fragment is at Paris in the Bibliothèque Nationale (No. 574, Supplément grec). It has been edited by Wessely, Denk-schriften der philosophisch-historischen Classe der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Wien (1888, XXXVI, 27-208).

112

existence of an early Hebrew deity by the name of "Jesus" or even "Jesus the Nazarite." But the manuscript from which all this is taken is conceded to belong between 300 and 400 A. D. This fact of itself puts the document out of court as first-hand testimony for customs in the first century B. C., especially when we recall how easily magical formulas gathered to themselves all sorts of accretions quite regardless of rhyme or reason. The word "Jesus" is here evidently a pagan supplement made by a copyist who did not distinguish between Jews and Christians.[1]

Another piece of alleged evidence for a pre-Christian Jesus is taken from Hippolytus. This church father, who it will be recalled wrote in the early third century A. D., cites a hymn used by the gnostic sect of the Naassenes in which Jesus' name occurs. He is represented as

[1] Cf. Deissmann, Licht mm Osten (Tübingen, 1908), p. 186, n. 14. The heathen scribe may have been betrayed into the error of calling Jesus "God of the Hebrews" by the custom among Jewish magicians in the Diaspora of employing names borrowed from various sources. And that there was, indeed, some disposition among Jews in the rabbinical period to use the name of the Christian Jesus in magic, is seen in Jacob of Kephar Sama's proposal to heal R. Eleazar of snake bite "in the name of Joshua ben Pandera." Against objections raised by R. Ishmael, R. Eleazar contended that the act could be justified, but he died before the proof was completed. (Tosephta, Hullin, II
1:21-23).

113

asking the Father's permission to visit the earth in order to teach men the secrets of "gnosis" and thus to relieve their distressed condition.[1] Both Smith and Drews use this in support of their position, but without making any serious attempt to prove that the passage originated before the Christian era. Smith excuses himself from discussing the date, while Drews says "to all appearances pre-Christian," and cites a Babylonian parallel to the hymn, which, however, may only signify that Babylonian and Christian materials were used in its composition. When we turn to Hippolytus' own testimony we find no hint that the Christian elements in the Naassene system are "pre-Christian." In fact he explicitly affirms that the heretics themselves cited "James the brother of the Lord" as the source of their teaching.[2] Whatever the antiquity of the sect itself may be, as described by Hippolytus it is a heretical Christian sect, and the supposition that the reference to Jesus is a pre-Christian feature lacks support.

Two other points emphasized by W. B. Smith as having special evidential value are the

[1] Hippolytus, Refutation, v, 5.

[2] Ibid., v, 2.

114

statement in Acts 18:25 that Apollos was preaching "the things concerning Jesus" while he as yet knew only the baptism of John, and the use of "Nazarite" as an appellation for Jesus. From the former it is inferred that a "doctrine" concerning Jesus, sufficiently definite and vital to form the background of a vigorous propaganda, existed in pre-Christian times. But this can be maintained only by a very liberal reading between the lines in the narrative of Acts. The natural meaning of the passage is quite different. The writer of Acts, perhaps more from necessity than from choice, has left us in the dark regarding many phases of early Christianity. One of these obscure items is the early practice of baptism. Even Paul has very little to say upon this subject, yet he seems to have regarded the ordinance as typifying, if not effecting in some magical way, the believer's entrance "into Christ." Consequently it was naturally attended by the bestowal of the Holy Spirit.[1] Another idea early connected with the ordinance is the notion of repentance. While both repentance and the giving of the Spirit are connected with the rite in Acts, chap. 2, it is not improbable that

[1] Cf. I Cor. 12:13.

115

repentance baptism, such as John the Baptist and his followers preached, was the notion adopted by the first Christians. The "mystical union" interpretation, accompanied by the doctrine of endowment by the Holy Spirit, may have been a Pauline contribution to the history of dogma. On this understanding of the situation all becomes clear in Acts 18:25 ff. Apollos had been first introduced to Christianity by non-Pauline Christians. Later he was "Paulinized"-not christianized-by Priscilla and Aquila.

Smith's second point rests upon an argument from silence. No mention of the village of Nazareth, either before or in the early part of the Christian era, has been found anywhere except in Christian writings. Hence it is concluded that this place-name has been derived simply from the phrase "Jesus the Nazarite." Jesus was not, as is commonly supposed, called the "Nazarite" because his home was in Nazareth; an imaginary Nazareth was created because Jesus was called the "Nazarite." The real genesis of the title must therefore be sought in the Hebrew root N-S-R, meaning to watch, protect, etc. The Nazarite then is a primitive cult-god worshiped as the watcher, protector,

116

savior. It will be observed that this reversal of the ordinary interpretation of the data rests on the assumption that the village of Nazareth never existed,[1] a conclusion which in turn is derived solely from the silence of non-Christian writers. But this silence about a small Galilean town can hardly be so very significant. Recalling the apologetic difficulties caused by the statement that Jesus' home was Nazareth, when christological speculation felt compelled to connect him with David's city, Bethlehem, it seems quite unlikely that Christians would have invented, or at least have failed to challenge, so unprofitable a fiction.

A few similar "proofs," as presented by Drews, may be noted in passing. Evidence for a long history of the name Jesus is seen in the magical power attached to the name already "at the beginning of the Christian propaganda," "an entirely inconceivable fact if its bearer had been a mere man." But the ancients who used magic were not given to critical skepticism in such matters. It would be quite sufficient for them to know that Jesus' followers believed him now to occupy a place of authority in the

[1] Cf. the view of Cheyne (Encyclopaedia Biblica, art. "Nazareth") and of Mead, that Nazareth = Galilee, a theory which does not serve Smith's purpose.

117

divine realm. Moreover the date and extent of the magical use of Jesus' name is a more doubtful problem than is here assumed to be the case.[1] Another point is made of the type of Christology in the Book of Revelation and in the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles. The "Jesus" in these books is thought to have "nothing in common with the Christian Jesus" and to be "in all probability" taken over from a pre-Christian cult. But we have previously been told that the Christian Jesus also came from this source. Then why the variation in type? Not only does the assertion that they have nothing in common seem ill-advised, but the differences may easily be accounted for by conditions within the history of Christianity.

The above arguments may be designated "direct" evidence for the existence of Jesus as a pre-Christian cult-god. The effort to find a place for him among the Jews results in a few more arguments of a supplementary character. It is urged that the idea of a suffering Messiah

[1] Paul gives a hint of this practice in his day (Phil. 2:9 f.), and Acts, chap. 3, shows the early believers defending their right so to use Jesus' name. But how extensively this was done at an early date is not known. It was natural enough for the custom to arise, in view of contemporary ideas regarding the magical significance of a name. Cf. Heitmüller, "Im Namen Jesu" (Göttingen, 1903, pp. 132-222).

118

is not distinctively Christian but was earlier a Jewish doctrine, having been taken over from the heathen notion of a suffering, dying, and rising god. To be sure, nature myths personifying the death of winter and the revival to new life in the spring are common in the heathen mythologies of Asia Minor. Acquaintance with these on the part of the Jews is possible and even probable, but evidence that these notions formed an important part in the construction of their messianic hope is scanty. Certainly a mere collection of isolated points suggesting similarities of ideas is not sufficient proof of borrowing, particularly when the Jewish literature shows so little to confirm the supposition. Isaiah, chap. 53, is sometimes cited in this connection. But granting that its thought may be of heathen origin and its significance messianic[1]-both doubtful points-it is still true that official Judaism did not interpret the suffering servant of Isaiah messianically; nor did early Christianity, which ex hypothesi represents the unofficial side of Jewish thought, make extensive use of the passage. Paul, whom Drews will concede to be a historical

[1] So Gressmann, Der Ursprung der israelilisch-jüdischen Eschatologie (Göttingen, 1906), pp. 302-33.

119

personality of primal importance for the new movement, employs the idea of the offered victim in the Jewish sacrificial system rather than that of the "suffering servant." The gospels show that Jesus' personal associates were utterly unprepared for his death, and Paul says that the early Christian preaching about a dying Messiah was a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Greeks. This is a very strange situation if the notion was originally heathen and had been early adopted by Judaism. The primitive Christians had too much difficulty in defending their belief in a suffering Messiah to allow us to suppose that they found the idea current in Judaism, or even that the heathen notion of a dying and rising divinity was recognized as having any essential similarity with their preaching about "Jesus Christ and him crucified."

The attempt to locate a pre-Christian Jesus in orthodox Judaism is implicitly admitted by the radicals to be hopeless. Hence they resort to the hypothesis of secret sects whose worship, ritual, and dogma centered about this Jesus-god of the cult. That there were divers sects within Judaism in pre-Christian times is a fairly well established fact. Philo, Josephus, the New

120

Testament, the early Fathers, and the Talmud, all support, more or less strongly, this opinion. We hear of Samaritans, Pharisees, Herodians, Essenes, Therapeutes, to say nothing of groups of followers collected from time to time by messianic pretenders, and the possible pre-Christian origin of various heresies mentioned at a later date in the Patristic literature and the Talmud. From the time of Antiochus Epiphanes down to about the close of the first century A. D., the Jews were passing through turbulent experiences, when factions within and forces from without were strongly affecting their life and thought. It is not at all impossible that by the end of the first century A. D. there may have been in circulation a body of literature roughly answering to the seventy books of II Esd. 14:46.

But what value have these facts for the idea of a pre-Christian Jesus? Is he mentioned anywhere in connection with these sects, or in any of the non-canonical Jewish writings that have come to us from this period? He certainly is not. In what we know of the tenets and practices of these sects is there anything to indicate his existence? Here, too, specific evidence for an affirmative answer fails. It is

121

true that our knowledge of these movements is relatively meager and mostly secondary. Yet such descriptions as are given by Philo and Josephus are usually thought to be reliable, and nothing appears here to indicate that the worship of a special cult-god characterized any of the sects or parties then known. A recently discovered document published by Schechter is of great importance.[1] It gives us new information about one of these obscure Jewish movements, but there is not the slightest intimation that these sectaries worshiped a special cult-god. They looked back with reverence to a "teacher of righteousness" who was the founder of their society, and awaited the time when "the teacher of righteousness shall arise in the last days" and "the anointed shall arise from Israel and Aaron." Whether the teacher yet to appear was the same who had died is disputed,[2] but at any rate this individual

[1] Documents of Jewish Sectaries, I, Fragments of a Zadokite Work. Edited with Translation, Introduction, and Notes by Schechter (Cambridge University Press, 1910).

[2] The editor of the document thinks a resurrection is implied; G. F. Moore is of the contrary opinion ("The Covenanters of Damascus; a Hitherto Unknown Jewish Sect" in the Harvard Theological Review, IV [1911], 330-77). Cf. Kohler, "Dositheus, the Samaritan Heresiarch, etc.," in the American Journal of Theology, XV (1911), 404-35, who sees here an example of the Samaritan doctrine of the Messiah's disappearing and reappearing at will.

122

is no dying and rising Adonis-like savior-deity. Jehovah the God of Israel is the sole object of worship. So in general the thought-content of Jewish parties or heresies, as far as known at present, did not concern itself with the worship of any special deities, but with the best means of rendering acceptable service to the common god of their fathers. Thus the sectaries were often rigid separatists, but they were not worshipers of other deities.

The extremes to which the radicals are driven in their endeavor to make room for the pre-Christian Jesus of their hypothesis is illustrated in Drews's assertions regarding secret cults in Judaism. He says that not only have the world-views of Babylonians, Persians, and Greeks influenced Judaism polytheistically, but from the beginning, side by side with the priestly and officially accentuated view of the One God, went a faith in other gods, a faith which not only received constantly new nourishment from foreign influences but, above all, which seemed to be fostered in the secret sects. This seems to be a very injudicious statement of the situation. That the main line of Judaism contained syncretistic elements is now generally recognized, and the early and continued activity

123

of separatist parties of various types cannot be disputed, but the perpetual and widespread existence of secret polytheistic cults among the Jews is not supported by any substantial evidence.

Jesus' name can be connected with these sects, which are alleged to have worshiped him as a cult-god, only by a precarious process of etymologizing, a method by which one may usually argue much and prove nothing. Already we have noted the futility of the argument based on the equation, Joshua = Jesus. As a sample of the way he is discovered to have been the special object of reverence among the Essenes and Therapeutes, we are reminded that Philo indicates a kinship between the Essenes, whose name means "pious," "God-fearing," and the Therapeutes, meaning "physicians." Also "Jesus" signifies in Hebrew "helper," "deliverer." Then the argument proceeds: "The Therapeutes and Essenes looked upon themselves as physicians"-did the Essenes?-"especially as physicians of souls, accordingly it is not at all improbable that they worshiped their cult-god under this name," that is, the name Jesus. Can an argument of this sort establish even a shadow of likelihood, not to

124

mention probabilities? We are also told that the pre-Christian Nazarees mentioned by Epiphanius will unquestionably have worshiped the "Nazarite" whose attributes as protector, savior (Jesus), have already been derived from the Hebrew root N-S-R. In addition to this point of Smith's, Drews notes that the Hebrew word netzer, the "shoot out of Jesse" mentioned in Isaiah, is the symbol of the "Redeemer" in his character of a deity of vegetation and life, "an idea which also may have made itself felt in the name of the Nazarees." The futility of arguments of this sort is self-evident, even without noting their occasional absurdity from a purely linguistic point of view.[1]

When the doctrine of a pre-Christian Jesus is applied more specifically to the origin of Christianity, the inadequacy of the hypothesis becomes still more evident. As a concrete instance, we may take Drews's application of

[1] We can imagine that the Zadokite sectaries, to use Schechter's designation, by the application of a similar argument may also be made worshipers of the pre-Christian Jesus. For do we not find in their writings the statement that God "made bud for Israel and Aaron a root of a plant to inherit his lands"? To be sure, the Hebrew for root is shoresh, but the thought is very similar to Isa. 60:21, where netzer occurs. So we have the progression shoresh, netzer, "Nazarite," the cult-god Jesus. Ridiculous indeed, but hardly impossible, we should think, for one suffering from chronic "etymologitis."

125

the theory to explain the Christianity of Paul. In Tarsus, where heathen religious notions flourished, Paul had heard of a Jewish sect-god, Jesus. Paul's sympathies, however, were with official Judaism, and he studied to become a teacher of the law. The gospel of "Jesus," which was originally "nothing other than a Judaized and spiritualized Adonis-cult," was first preached by men of Cyprus and Cyrene, and Paul opposed this preaching because the law pronounced a curse upon everyone who hung upon a tree. Then suddenly there came over him a great enlightenment. The dying Adonis became a self-sacrificing god, surrendering his life for the world. This was "the moment of Christianity's birth as a religion of Paul."

This attempted derivation of Pauline Christianity from the cult of Adonis fails not only because it is too highly fanciful, but because of its serious omissions. On the one hand, important features in Adonis' career find no place in Paul's picture of Jesus-for example, the youthful god slain by the wild boar, and the mourning of his goddess sweetheart. But more significant is the failure of the Adonis legend to suggest some of the most specific and

126

important items in Paul's thought of Jesus, such as his human ancestry and family connections,[1] his association with disciples,[2] his righteous life[3] lived in worldly poverty,[4] his self-sacrificing service,[5] his heavenly exaltation as a reward for obedience,[6] the circumstances of his death,[7] the awakening of faith through his appearances,[8] and finally the stress Paul puts on the Messiah's future coming, and his present significance for the spiritual life of believers.

It is also doubtful whether the idea of a suffering deity is so genetically vital to Paul's thought as Drews assumes. Is it the God-man Jesus or the Man-god Jesus that stands as the corner-stone of the Pauline gospel? We must not forget that for Paul there is but one supreme deity, the activity of whose will is manifest in all things. Although Jesus was a pre-existent being who voluntarily surrendered his heavenly position, still it is God who sent him to earth, God raised him from the dead and

[1] Rom. 1:3; 1 Cor. 9:5; Gal. 1:19; 4:4.

[2] 1 Cor. 15:5; Gal. 1:17 f.. etc.

[3] Rom. 5:18 f.; II Cor. 5:21.

[4] II Cor. 8:9; cf. Phil. 2:5 ff.

[5] Rom. 15:3; II Cor. 10:1.

[6] Rom. 1:4; Phil. 2:9 f.

[7] I Cor. 11:23; and numerous references to his crucifixion.

[8] I Cor. 5:5-8; Gal. 1:12, 16.

127

delegates to him the conduct of the judgment, and to God at last he submits all things in order that God may be all in all. It is true that Paul speculates about the activity of Jesus in the angelic realm in subordination to God, but the significance of this activity in man's behalf lies not in the abstract thought of an incarnated redeeming divinity but in an actual human life terminated by a violent death. Not some hypothesis about his becoming a man, but the way he lived and the outcome of his career as a man, his success in contrast with the first man's failures, his restoration of the ideal of a perfect man, these are the phases of his activity which make him truly the savior of men. His resurrection and his present activity in the spiritual life of the community are the further assurance of his saving power. In all this the thought of pre-existence is never the stress point. The heavenly man, the earthly Jesus, the exalted Christ (Messiah), the heavenly Lord, are all features in Paul's system; but the point of supreme importance for his gospel, that which he makes the central item of his preaching, is the transition from the second to the third stage of this progression, from "Jesus" to "Christ and him crucified."

128

In like manner the application of the pre-Christian Jesus-theory to the gospels fails to take account of the actual situation there depicted. Again using Drews as an illustration, the point of departure for his treatment of the gospel material is a citation from Wrede to the effect that Mark was an apologetic treatise aiming to prove to gentile readers that Jesus was the Son of God. Even granting this, it is not the same as saying that Mark was primarily interested in showing that the Son of God was Jesus. Nor is Drews justified in his conclusion that "in the gospels we have to do not with a deified man but rather with an anthropomorphized god.'' This assertion needs qualifications. It does not truly represent the order in which gospel thought proceeds, nor the situation in which the early Christian apologists found themselves.

What troubled the first missionaries of the new religion was not the reluctance of their hearers to believe that a god had become a man, but their hesitation about believing that a man, especially an obscure Jew who had been ignominiously put to death, was really the Son of God. The oldest type of synoptic tradition does not connect either Jesus' activity or his

129

teaching with a deified past. At baptism he first appears as God's son, and his life history is interpreted constantly with reference to his future rather than to his past. His teachings are not of any angelic world out of which he has come, but of the earthly life to be lived in spiritual fellowship with God, and the future welfare of himself and his followers. Belief in the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus is the starting-point for theological elaboration in gospel tradition, and the interpreter's task is seen to be not the problem of reading the divine out of Jesus' career but of so narrating the story of his activity that it might fittingly relate itself to the later faith in him as the exalted Messiah. Only in the later stages of the tradition, as in the Fourth Gospel and in the nativity stories of Matthew and Luke, does the process of elevation reach back as far as the pre-earthly side of Jesus' career.

Consequently the idea of a pre-Christian cult-god, as the starting-point for the gospel religion, does not answer the requirements of the situation. A similar objection holds against Kalthoff's supposition that Jesus is merely the community's ideal personified to save it from perishing. On the contrary, gospel thought

130

moves in the opposite direction. It proceeds from the person to his idealization rather than from the ideal to its personification. The extent to which the evangelists' narratives are historical is another problem, but unquestionably this literary activity moves out from the idea of a historical Jesus who has become the heavenly Christ, and so is the object of unique devotion and reverence.

When all the evidence brought against Jesus' historicity is surveyed it is found to contain no elements of strength. All theories that would explain the rise of the New Testament literature by making it a purely fictitious product fail, and the arguments for a pre-Christian Jesus are found to lack any substantial basis. One of the serious defects of the negative procedure is the way in which the great bulk of testimony for the origin of Christianity is unceremoniously set aside in favor of a hypothetical reconstruction based upon obscure and isolated points. This results in a promiscuous forcing of all data into line with an otherwise unverified theory as to how the new religion might possibly have arisen. So it has happened that no advocate of the negative position, at least none since Bauer, has concerned

131

himself primarily and comprehensively with the principal data in the field, showing for example that the letters of Paul and the primitive gospel tradition are wholly spurious. A theory of Christianity's origin has been foisted upon our attention before the way has been cleared for it in a field already occupied.

Moreover when the credentials of the negative hypothesis, and its application to Christian origins, are minutely examined, their unsubstantial and fallacious character becomes evident. The chief strength of the whole negative position is the intangibility of the data on which it rests. It is built upon a few isolated points whose chief argumentative value lies in the fact that in their present setting there is some uncertainty as to their exact meaning. Thus they lend themselves to liberal hypothesizing. We have already observed that the detailed items advanced as evidence for a pre-Christian Jesus are of this character. But on closer inspection not only do we find no well-attested references to him but there is also no appropriate place for him in the history of the period where he is supposed to belong. The argument for his existence may sometimes have a semblance of plausibility but this is

132

because the data offered in its support are obscure either as to context or content, so that generous reading between the lines, liberal etymologizing, and the like, become the main stock in trade for these theorists. They can, to be sure, claim a certain degree of immunity from the weapons of adverse criticism. This fact, however, is not to be taken, as they would sometimes have us believe, as attesting the strength of their theory. It is just because of the intangible character of its premises that their argument cannot easily be submitted to detailed scientific rebuttal. As Weiss remarks, it is the most difficult task in the world to prove to nonsense that it is nonsense.

CHAPTER V PRAGMATIC PHASES OF PRIMITIVE TRADITION

The argument against Jesus' historicity has already been found to lack adequate support. Unless its advocates can offer more valid reasons for their skepticism, and can make the constructive presentation of their hypothesis agree more closely with all the data in the field of primitive Christian history, they can scarcely hope to find a substantial following. At present the prospects of success for the radical contention seem to be slight, and no necessity is generally felt even for asking, Did a historical Jesus ever live?

Yet when this question is asked can an affirmative answer be formulated sufficiently strong to prove, beyond the possibility of a reasonable doubt, that Jesus was a genuinely historical character? It may not be inappropriate to set forth some specific reasons for believing in his historicity, especially since those who adhere to the opposite view sometimes claim that they are not obliged to justify

134

their skepticism unless a valid argument for historicity is advanced. We shall not be concerned to determine the full amount of reliable information about Jesus now available; we confine attention to the single issue, Did Jesus ever live?

The radicals will not allow us to point as proof to the uniformity of Christian opinion today, or merely to cite the Christian tradition of the past. They insist, and quite rightly, that not the Jesus of history but rather the risen and heavenly Christ of faith has held the central position in believers' thought from the earliest times down to the present. It is pointed out that this state of affairs existed even as early as the time of Paul, who had relatively little to say of an earthly Jesus in comparison with his emphasis upon the heaven-exalted individual who was soon to come in judgment. To be sure, it may be difficult to imagine that the Christ of faith could in the first instance have come to occupy the place he did without the reality of an earthly Jesus, but to assume this connection as a presupposition would be to beg the question at issue. In fact, those who deny Jesus' historicity maintain that it is impossible to believe in the reality of his earthly

135

career just because of the very exalted place he occupied in the primitive theology. They say that memory of his human limitations would have prevented that idealization of him which is found in early tradition. Consequently we are asked to show that early Christian speculation has room for the actual career of an earthly Jesus.

On general grounds we may note that the deification of men was not unusual in this period of the world's history. And if it is objected that Jesus had done nothing to prompt belief in him as a heaven-exalted hero-that he was no world-conquering Alexander-one may say that his heroic suffering was the pathway by which he ascended to heavenly honors. If a-priori considerations are to be urged, is it not quite impossible to imagine a company of believers declaring themselves to have been companions of a fictitious person and reverencing him even to the extent of sacrificing their lives for his cause? There are two factors in this situation which distinguish it from the mythical anthropomorphizing of deities in general. The order of progress, which has already been seen to show itself in early Christian interpretation, is from Jesus the man

136

to Christ the heavenly Lord; and emphasis falls upon the proximity of the events. It is true that no New Testament book may be held to give us the exact views of a personal follower of Jesus, yet the great bulk of early tradition gives the reader the vivid impression that the unique phenomena behind the New Testament faith, and the person whom it reverences, are not projected into some remote past but have appeared within the memory of men still living. On the other hand we have to admit that the New Testament may contain features created by the pious fancy of the early believers, hence a request for more specific proof that the earthly figure of Jesus is not a mere product of this interest in interpretation is not out of place.

The obscurity of Christianity's beginnings makes our task a difficult one. While there is ample evidence that the new religion was in existence about the close of the first century A. D., there is no contemporary account of its beginnings, much less such an account of the life of its alleged founder. He left no written records of his teaching, and none of the New Testament writings can be assigned with absolute certainty to the pen of a personal disciple

137

of Jesus. At first the adherents of the new faith apparently had no idea of any prolonged propaganda, or of a time after the first generation of Christians should have passed away when written documents would be needed to supply information about the early days of the faith. It is now well known that the literature which purports to narrate the story of Jesus' career does not, in its present form, come from the first generation of Christians. Mark, though the earliest gospel, was written at a time when the author would be compelled to thread his way back to Jesus through from thirty to forty years of development in the thought and life of the church, and that too in a period when tradition was in its most fluid state. The other evangelists were under a similar necessity, the difficulty being perhaps greater in their case since they were chronologically farther removed from the original events. Paul's letters are the earliest extant Christian writings, yet they were not composed with any deliberate purpose of instructing posterity on questions of history, or even of expounding the content of contemporary thinking. They aim rather to meet special exigencies among the churches. Hence the modern historian

138

must rely upon secondary sources in his effort to recover the Jesus of history.

It is true that the gospels do distinctly emphasize the career of Jesus, but their portrait is soon discovered to be colored by the interests of developing dogma. This necessitates a critical handling of the material in order to distinguish earlier from later phases of tradition. Mark has been found to be the earliest of the gospels, while still earlier written materials, in addition to Mark, are thought to have been used by the writers of Matthew and Luke. The Fourth Gospel is now believed to have originated last, and to have been written more especially as an interpretative account of Jesus' personality. Thus our sources of information, in inverse chronological order, are John, Matthew, Luke (or Luke, Matthew), Mark, and the non-Markan sections of Matthew and Luke which have so strong a verbal resemblance that the use of earlier common-source material may be safely assumed. With these generally accepted results of modern gospel criticism before us it might seem an easy matter to discriminate, at least in the main outlines, between later accretions and the primitive historical data. Will not the earliest document be the

139

purest historically, while the other documents will be estimated according to chronological position?

This method is undoubtedly valuable as far as it goes, but it does not meet the ultimate needs of historical inquiry, inasmuch as the oldest source may quite likely be itself influenced by theological interests. The idea that there was a primitive period in the history of Christianity when doctrine was "pure," the recovery of which would give one the quintessence of Christianity, is now treated quite generally as a fiction; but is it not a kindred error to imagine an ideal period in the primitive tradition when only Simon-pure historical narrative about Jesus' life and teaching was in circulation? The earliest writer may indeed have had the best opportunity to learn the actual facts, and so his narrative will naturally be prized the most highly by historians, but what if the situation in which he found himself demanded an "interpretation" of the facts! This demand must have become evident almost at the beginning of the new community's life, and those who advocated the new faith must have early felt the desirability of rising to this occasion. Otherwise there would have been

140

little incentive for them to speak and still less likelihood that their words would have been remembered.

It does not follow that the early apologetic had no basis in fact, but we must recognize that the point of view from which the framers of the tradition presented their material, as well as the controlling interest in its selection and elaboration, were largely determined by their own historical situation. And so far as our evangelists are concerned, it is evident that they were by no means solely interested in writing the bare outlines of history. Their aim was to make the history they related count in favor of the type of faith which they preached, and which appealed to them as the true interpretation of the data. What the church found itself thinking and doing, as the result of the circumstances which molded its early life, this its theologians, in all good conscience, naturally endeavored to find warrant for in the life and teaching of Jesus. Had the evangelists failed to appreciate this demand of their times there would have been but slight occasion for them to write anything, and still less probability that what they wrote would be preserved. We must grant at the outset that

141

our present sources of information about Jesus are literary products framed subsequently to his career, and that they may indeed have been shaped to favor pragmatic interests. Therefore in using these documents today for purely historical purposes it is desirable to recognize at least some of the main pragmatic demands of that period.

What must the primitive Christians' gospel contain in order to insure its effectiveness in the thought-world of their day? In the first place, and above all else, it must offer an assurance of salvation. The notion of salvation did not originate with Christianity, nor was Jesus the first individual to be looked upon as a deliverer. The ancient religions of Egypt, Babylonia, and Persia all entertained the hope of salvation for humanity, and pictured more or less vividly the idea of redemption. The syncretistic faiths of the Roman world in Jesus' day show similar traits. Even the Roman poet, Vergil, voiced sentiments of this sort and seemed to think Augustus had ushered in the new age. Men everywhere hoped for deliverance, a deliverance ultimately to be effected by the deity. He alone could avert evils, destroy enemies, control fate, and give humanity a triumphant salvation.

142

Among the Jews this idea became highly specialized. God would one day deliver his chosen people from their enemies, either destroying all foes or else converting them into obedient subjects of Israel's sovereign. While the hope of political freedom was still strong, the golden age awaited the appearing of an ideal earthly ruler, the descendant of the hero-prince, David. But the period of temporary political independence under the Maccabeans proved so disappointing that in some circles less thought was given to the human mediator of the divine salvation and more emphasis fell upon the divine activity itself. God would, either in person or else through a messenger of his from the spirit-world, suddenly demonstrate his power to abolish all evil and to set up a new regime in a renovated earth. In the meantime it behooved men to wait upon the divine pleasure, and thus to insure for themselves if possible a favorable reception when God should act. While there was diversity in matters of detail, the main ambition of Judaism when Christianity appeared upon the scene was to win God's favor, thus establishing for man an assurance of salvation.

Under these circumstances thought of Jesus

143

after his death could scarcely have commended itself even to his disciples, much less to outsiders, had they not connected him in some substantial way with the hope of salvation. Otherwise a propaganda in his name would have been impossible. He would have been as unconditionally dismissed from further consideration as were Judas of Gamala and other discredited messianic aspirants. Nor was it possible for the first Christians to hold that Jesus' earthly life had given the actual demonstration of his saving mission, for he had died and deliverance had not yet been fully realized. In this his career was like that of Judas and the others; but he was unlike them in that the future held in store for him, so they asserted, the opportunity to effect the consummation of salvation. He was soon to return upon the clouds to establish the kingdom. However moderns may be disposed to regard this feature of early belief, it certainly was an indispensable item in the primitive interpretation of Jesus.

What had Jesus' earthly life to do with his saving mission? Seemingly very little in the earliest stages of interpretation. Even in the synoptic gospels the tardiness of his followers in attaining faith during his lifetime is everywhere

144

admitted. When they do at last confess their belief in his messiahship they are still unprepared to hear of his death, they do not comprehend the reference to his resurrection, and they disband seemingly without hope after his crucifixion, all of which surely implies that whatever type of messianic hope they may have entertained for Jesus during his lifetime, his death brought about a very substantial transformation of their faith. The realization of salvation now became more distinctly an other-worldly affair, awaiting Jesus' advent in glory. The chief evidences that Jesus was the coming Messiah were not found at first in history but in the present experiences of the Christians themselves. At least in Paul's interpretation-and we have little reason to think that at this point he differed widely from other early Christians-the primary proofs offered are (1) Jesus' resurrection and (2) the spiritual gifts displayed in the lives of believers, thus attesting Jesus' present lordship.

Belief in Jesus' resurrection is fundamental to Paul's faith. He defends this belief by pointing out that it is scriptural, by citing the testimony of persons still living who have witnessed visions of the risen Lord, and finally

145

by pledging his own word: "If Christ has not been raised then is our preaching void, your faith also is void; yea, and we are found false witnesses of God, because we witness of God that he raised up Christ."[1] On an earlier occasion, when defending the superiority of the new religion in comparison with the assurance which a legalistic religion offered, Paul throws out a test question: "This only would I learn of you, Received ye the Spirit by the works of the law or by the hearing of faith? . . . He therefore that supplieth to you the Spirit and worketh miracles among you, doeth he it by the works of the law or by the hearing of faith?"[2] Evidence of Jesus' lordship is thus proleptically displayed in these adumbrations of the new age soon to be ushered in by the Lord's "parousia." Hence, for Paul, to confess Jesus' lordship and to believe that God raised him from the dead guarantees salvation.[3]

It would seem, therefore, that Paul did not ask his hearers to go back into Jesus' earthly career at all for evidence of Jesus' messianic dignity. Paul did note features in Jesus' life,

[1] I Cor. 15:4-8, 14 f.

[2] Gal. 3:2, 5; cf. I Cor. 12:1 ff.; II Cor. 12:12; Rom. 15:18f.

[3] Rom. 10:9.

146

such as his Davidic descent and his death on the cross, which were important preliminaries in the coming savior's program, but these things in themselves did not officially authenticate him as the Messiah. By these marks alone no one could be expected to recognize in him the promised deliverer. True, Paul does think that Jesus was potentially the Messiah even before he appeared upon earth, but he did not receive the insignia of office and the final stamp of divine authentication until he was "declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection of the dead."[1] Almost identically the same interpretation is given in Acts 2:32 ff., where the disciples' witness to the resurrection, and the ecstatic life of the community in consequence of Jesus' exaltation, are cited as proof that "God hath made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom ye crucified."[2] Again in Acts 13:33 Jesus' resurrection is mentioned as a fulfilment of Ps. 2: "Thou art

[1] Rom. 1:4; cf. Phil. 2:9 f.

[2] Cf. Acts 3:13-15, where a miracle wrought by the disciples in Jesus' name is evidence that God "hath glorified his Servant Jesus," and where the disciples' testimony to the resurrection is again affirmed.

147

my son, this day have I begotten thee." These passages must represent an early type of thinking, even though they stand in so late a work as Acts. They will not have been created in an age when the notion had become current that divine sanction had already been officially set upon Jesus at the transfiguration,[1] or previously at his baptism,[2] or even before his birth.[3]

While the disciples, on the basis of their resurrection faith and the community's ecstatic life, may have been content to wait for further proof of Jesus' messiahship in what was yet to happen, others, and particularly Jews, must have demanded a more immediate basis for faith. How could the early preachers plausibly ask their hearers to believe that Jesus would come on the clouds with a divine commission to deliver Israel? We have already noted that some Jews at this time cherished the hope of a heavenly Messiah to be sent forth from God with miraculous power to deliver the faithful. Others were willing to connect the idea of

[1] Mark 9:7 = Matt. 17:5 = Luke 9:35.

[2] Mark 1:11 = Matt. 3:17 = Luke 3:22.

[3] Matt. 1:18-25; Luke 1:26-38.

148

messiahship with an earthly individual who would exemplify the characteristics of their idealized warrior-prince, David, and under God's guidance deliver Israel from political oppression. But Christians were asking the Jews to identify the heavenly Messiah of the future with an earthly individual who during his lifetime had satisfied none of the generally accepted tests of messiahship-an individual who had in fact been discredited by an ignominious death. If he had failed to meet messianic standards while on earth, it is hardly surprising that there was difficulty in anticipating for him any future display of messianic dignity. Therefore Christian interpreters were obliged not only to justify the heretofore unheard-of procedure of identifying the man-Messiah with the heavenly Messiah; but if Jesus was the Messiah to be, it was not unreasonable to demand some foreshadowings of this fact in his earthly life. These necessities, as we shall presently see, were met by exhibiting, in what must have seemed at first-at least to Jews if not to Christians-a non-messianic career of Jesus on earth, elements that had messianic significance; and this ultimately meant the transference of his saving work from

149

the realm of eschatology into the domain of history.

Paul remarks that it was characteristic of Jews to demand "signs" in proof of the Christians' estimate of Jesus.[1] Evidently it was Jesus' death to which exception was taken. This seemed to Jews a mark of weakness, so they demanded signs of Jesus' power. But instead of pointing out evidences of power in Jesus' historical person, Paul replied that Christ crucified is the power of God-witness the resurrection and the charismatic endowments accompanying the propagation of the new faith. Similarly in synoptic tradition the demand for a sign during Jesus' lifetime is left unmet, so far as the actual request is concerned. The Jewish authorities sought a sign-more specifically "a sign from heaven"-but Jesus turned away impatiently with the curt reply, "to this generation no sign shall be given." Some substitutes were suggested in the tradition, such as the sign of Jonah, the signs of the times, or the sign of Jesus' resurrection; but early Christian tradition uniformly recognized that the particular type of sign demanded by the Jews as evidence that the earthly Jesus was to

[1] I Cor. 1:22 ff.

150

be identified with the expected Messiah could not be historically produced.[1]

What was the real sign from heaven which Jesus so uniformly refused his own generation? It can hardly be that Mark, for example, thought the Pharisees were asking for a miracle of the sort Jesus had already performed. There would not be anything distinctive about this, for they had already witnessed Jesus' miracles on various occasions. Their request was rather for a special demonstration "from heaven" which should leave no doubt in their minds that he was the final minister of salvation, the Messiah. There was one pre-eminent sign that would satisfy the Jews, namely, for Jesus to present himself riding upon the clouds in glory. This was the one supreme test, regarded on all hands as final, for a messiahship of the type Christians were claiming for Jesus. But this proof was of course not available for those of Jesus' own generation. Christian interpretation could not make this a matter of history but must treat it as an item of faith. Thus in the narrative of Mark the "leaven" of disbelief on the part of the Jewish leaders sets off to

[1] Mark 8:11-13; Matt. 16:1-4; 12:38 f.; Luke 11:16, 29; 12:54-56.

151

greater advantage the disciples' belief-tardy and faltering as it is-in Jesus' messiahship,[1] notwithstanding the unmessianic character of his career when judged by the standards of popular expectation. In Matthew and Luke, Pharisaic disbelief is similarly condemned as the trait of a generation which is "evil and adulterous."[2]

But how could the Pharisees be fairly upbraided for disbelief if they were not given a sign in support of faith? Christian apologists recognized this need, and offered, in place of the as yet impossible sign from heaven, other data which were held by believers to justify identifying the earthly Jesus with the future savior from heaven. Negatively, those features in Jesus' career which seemed to contradict this hope were explained away as divinely foreordained; while more positive evidences of Jesus' uniqueness were found in other features of his career. Not only was God's special sanction of him seen in his resurrection and his spiritual lordship over the community-the main pillars of the first Christians' faith-but early interpretation was able to exhibit sanctions

[1] Mark 8:14-21, 27-33.

[2] Matt. 12:39; 16:4; Luke 11:29.

152

from God during Jesus' lifetime, and also attestations of uniqueness given more immediately by Jesus himself.

This brought about a real demand for a "Life of Christ." The earliest efforts in this direction probably were made on Jewish soil and in a Jewish atmosphere, and the items set in the foreground of the narrative were naturally those best suited to show that the earthly Jesus was worthy of messianic honors. While he was still pre-eminently the savior to come, he had also accomplished at least a preliminary saving work while on earth. But as his coming was delayed, and interest in the realistic Jewish eschatology waned, still more did Christians realize the importance of finding the chief manifestation of Jesus' saving mission in his earthly life. This evolution was a gradual one, but it is clearly observable in the New Testament. At the beginning stands Paul, with his vivid forward look warning converts that the day is far spent and the night is at hand when all shall stand before the judgment-seat of God.[1] At the other extreme is the author of the Fourth Gospel, whose faith takes a backward

[1] Rom. 13:12; 14:10; cf. I Cor. 1:7 f.; 3:13; 4:5; II Cor. 5:10.

153

sweep to the time when Jesus first came forth from God to save the world by his work upon earth: "This is life eternal, that they should know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou didst send."[1] In John, the Christians' gaze has been almost completely diverted from the Coming One to "the Way, the Truth, and the Life," which has already been revealed.

One of the first necessities of primitive interpretation was to counteract the popular belief that certain well-known features of Jesus' career were contrary to messianic faith. His death for instance must have occasioned much difficulty. Paul made this an essential item in God's scheme of salvation, the cornerstone of the gospel of redemption. He recognized that both Jews and gentiles took offense at this phase of the Messiah's career, but he personally saw in it a demonstration of the wisdom and power of God. His language implies that he was not the first to grasp this idea,[2] yet it is doubtful whether any of his predecessors had expounded it so vigorously. At first the disciples seem to have offered no apology for this event, other than to express

[1] John 17:3.

[2] I Cor. 15:3.

154

their conviction that it had happened in accordance with the divine will as revealed in Old Testament prophecy. Thus it was an integral element in the scheme of salvation, even though no one chose to phrase it as Paul did, in the language of the Jewish sacrificial system.

Perhaps a further intimation of its importance for early times is to be seen in the fact that about one-third of the Gospel of Mark is devoted to the closing scenes of the last week of Jesus' life. And this seems, too, to be a primitive phase of tradition. Jesus does not figure here even as a worker of miracles, displaying messianic powers already bestowed upon him at baptism; he is rather a messianic claimant whose credentials are to be produced in the future. Paul said, in substance, that by death Jesus performed the last act preliminary to entering upon the final part of his messianic program; according to the passion narrative of Mark, Jesus was put to death because he had while on earth expressly asserted his right to play this future part. In either case the event had saving significance, in that it was one act in the divinely arranged program of the Savior. When Jesus' death was thus disposed of, the

155

way was open for a similar disposition of every troublesome feature in his career.

But God's interest in Jesus was not confined simply to those features in his life which at first sight seemed incongruous with messianic faith. Divine approvals of a positive sort were to be found in the story of Jesus' life. Whether Paul knew nothing of these, or whether he merely felt it unnecessary to go back beyond the resurrection for proof of Jesus' messianic dignity, is difficult to determine at this late date. But there were theologians, and some of them probably were contemporary with Paul, who recognized the desirability, and found themselves equal to the task, of presenting evidence from Jesus' lifetime in support of their messianic faith. Instead of pointing merely to the resurrection as the occasion when God had explicitly authenticated Jesus, they gave an account of a "transfiguration" near the close of Jesus' career when a foretaste of his approaching resurrection glory was vouchsafed to a few chosen disciples, and when the divine voice proclaimed him to be God's beloved Son whom the disciples were to "hear." It was thought by other interpreters that God had given similar testimony at Jesus' baptism; and, by

156

the time the tradition contained in the infancy narratives had taken form, it was discovered that God had explicitly indicated his approval of Jesus' earthly mission even before his birth. Finally, the writer of the Fourth Gospel conceives Jesus to have been the incarnation of the pre-existent, divine logos, sent from God.

For Christians these were veritable signs from heaven, but they were not directly available for outsiders. They had to be mediated by believers. While Jews were familiar with the Old Testament prophecies in which foreshadowings of Jesus' death were found, there was a wide difference between the current and the Christian interpretations of these Scriptures. Furthermore, God's approval of Jesus at transfiguration and at baptism had, at least in the earliest tradition, to be taken purely on the testimony of believers. Only in later forms of the narrative are such evidences made available for the public, as in the Matthean version of the baptism, where the voice speaks about Jesus rather than directly to him as in Mark. Also in the Fourth Gospel, John the Baptist had been divinely instructed regarding Jesus' messiahship, and the multitude were the auditors when God announced the glorification of the Son in

157

John 12:28 ff. But even had these items been in circulation earlier, it is doubtful whether they would have satisfied the actual demands of the situation. Not only would opponents ask for more objective proofs of messiahship from Jesus' own personal life, but Christians themselves must have felt a similar desire when once it was believed that Jesus' messiahship had been divinely attested during his earthly life, and that certain features in his earthly career were an integral part of his saving work. One of the earliest passages expressing God's approval of Jesus contains the injunction "hear ye him."[1] This carried with it the idea of a unique message delivered by the Son. Nor could interpretation be satisfied with anything less than explicit statements from Jesus himself, if these could possibly be obtained, asserting his uniqueness. Furthermore, Jesus as the Son who already at baptism is the object of the Father's good pleasure must needs display in his career a special type of conduct. Hence more detailed evidences of Jesus' messiahship

[1] Mark 9:7; cf. Acts 3:22 f. It must have been an early interpretation which first placed God's authentication so late in Jesus' career, rather than at his baptism. It has indeed been suggested that the transfiguration story was originally a resurrection narrative (cf. Wellhausen, Das Evangelium Marci, Berlin, 1903, p. 77).

158

are found in (1) his prophet-like teaching, (2) his specific messianic claims, and (3) his mighty works. These items are all of the nature of self-attestations on the part of Jesus, in comparison with those authentications given more immediately by God.[1]

Evidently Jesus' teaching was brought forward at a relatively early date to demonstrate his supremacy. In a synoptic passage usually thought to come from the earliest common-source material used in the composition of Matthew and Luke,[2] when messengers from John the Baptist request Jesus to testify concerning himself, the climax of his reply is, "The poor have the gospel preached to them, and blessed is he whosoever shall not find occasion for stumbling in me." As these words now stand in our gospels their original force apparently has been somewhat weakened by taking literally the previous statements about giving sight to the blind, healing the lame, cleansing the lepers, curing the deaf, and raising the dead.

[1] The latter apparently were the earlier interest, e. g., with Paul (cf. also Acts 2:32; 3:15) God raises Jesus, but in Mark Jesus simply "rises"; in Acts 2:22 Jesus' miracles are works which "God did by him" (cf. Matt. 12:28 = Luke 11:20-a "Q" passage), but in Mark it is Jesus' own authority which stands in the foreground.

[2] Matt. 11:2-6 = Luke 7:18-23.

159

In the first instance this language probably was intended to describe the beneficent qualities of Jesus' message, like that of the prophet Isaiah cited by Jesus in Luke 4:18: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor, etc." Emphasis upon Jesus' prophetic preaching rather than upon his miracles, as the distinctive mark of his saving work, is characteristic of the primitive non-Markan source material. It is here that the men of Nineveh who "repented at the preaching of Jonah," and the queen of the south who came to "hear the wisdom of Solomon," are promised precedence over the men of Jesus' own generation in the day of judgment.[1] Similarly at the beginning of his public career, when it is suggested that he appeal to miracles in order to test his divine sonship, he emphatically refuses the challenge.[2] Not only are miracles of Jesus rarely mentioned in this section of gospel tradition, but his ability in

[1] Matt. 12:41 f.; Luke 11:31 f.

[2] Matt. 4:1-11 = Luke 4:1-13. It is noteworthy that Mark slurs over this phase of the tradition, evidently feeling it to be inconsistent with the prominence given to miracles in the Markan narrative. Even the temptation incident has been retouched by Mark, seemingly in favor of the miracle interest. At least the ministration of angels has been introduced, while in the earlier source Jesus had positively refused to invoke their aid.

160

this respect is implied to be not essentially different from that of other righteous men in Israel.[1] As proof of his superiority, mighty works did not appeal to the framers of this primitive type of tradition so much as did the spiritual and prophetic quality of Jesus' teaching. This is a perfectly natural situation, for Jews did not find the uniqueness of their great men primarily in their ability to work miracles, but in the fidelity with which they uttered the word of God.

A similar method of showing that Jesus was to be identified with the Messiah to come is seen in Acts, chap. 3. His earthly career had not been one of brilliant messianic display, and his death had taken place in accordance with prophecy (vs. 18). He had figured as the suffering servant of God, who was later glorified through the disciples' witness to his resurrection and through miracles wrought in his name (vss. 13-15). In heaven he now awaited God's pleasure in bringing about the time for him to appear in his full messianic rôle (vs. 20). His earthly life had been "messianic" only in the sense that he was the prophet like unto Moses whose coming the great lawgiver had foretold. His mission, therefore, was to speak to Israel

[1] Matt. 12:27 = Luke 11:19.

161

the word which should prove a blessing by turning them from their iniquities. It was Israel's fatal mistake not to have hearkened unto "that prophet" (vss. 23 and 26). Here again the very content of the tradition forbids that we credit the author of Acts with its first composition. The use of a source has to be assumed for this as for similar primitive elements in the Third Gospel.

The necessity of placing Jesus beside Moses and the prophets must have been early felt, particularly in Jewish circles. This interest is served by picturing Christianity's natal day as a time when the earth trembled and the Spirit, like fiery flames, came upon believers, with the result that all foreigners in Jerusalem at the time heard the gospel preached in their several tongues. The prototype of this scene is Mount Sinai trembling and aflame when the law is delivered to Israel, and when, according to Jewish Midrashim, the law had been proclaimed in seventy different languages to as many different nations, though accepted by none but Israel. Thus God acts as marvelously in the founding of Christianity as in the establishment of Judaism; and Moses figures much less significantly than does Jesus, whose heavenly

162

exaltation is itself the basis of the Spirit's activity. But even in Jesus' lifetime Moses and Elijah-representing the "Law" and the "Prophets"-appear in conversation with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. Here Peter, who has been spokesman for the disciples in their recognition of Jesus' messiahship, now proposes to make three tabernacles, "one for thee, one for Moses, one for Elijah."[1] When the new religion became conscious of its own existence, its founder of necessity took precedence over the ancient Hebrew worthies.

This phase of Christian thinking inevitably grew in importance as Christianity remained for some time in close contact with Judaism. It was desirable to recall that Jesus' teaching had been superior to that of the rabbis, and that he had in fact excelled all scribes, sages, prophets, and lawgivers of old. It could be said of the scribe: "He will seek out all the wisdom of the ancients, and will be occupied in prophecies. He will keep the discourse of the men of renown, and will enter in amidst the subtilties of parables. He will seek out the hidden meaning of proverbs, and be conversant in the dark sayings of parables."[2] Yet more

[1] Mark 9:4 f. = Matt. 17:3 f. = Luke 9:30-33.

[2] Sir. 39:1-3.

163

could be said of Jesus. He was not merely an interpreter of other men's proverbs and parables, but was himself the author of teachings so subtle that even his own disciples understood him with difficulty and outsiders were completely mystified.[1] Other teachers might expound the wisdom of the older sages, but Jesus excelled even Solomon, the most highly esteemed of the Hebrew wise men.[2] Jesus' understanding of the prophets was not only superior to that of contemporary teachers, but he was himself the fulfilment of prophecy and the author of a new dispensation in which even the more lowly members were greater than the last and greatest of the prophets of Israel.[3] He was also an authoritative expounder of the law, even to the extent of criticizing its enactments regarding, for example, sabbath observance and divorce.[4] Yet many early Christians did not feel that the new faith meant the abrogation of the law, and they regarded as least in the kingdom all who, like Paul, taught men to discard Mosaic injunctions. On the other hand, Jesus was the new messianic lawgiver

[1] Mark 4:9-12.

[2] Matt. 12:42 = Luke 11:31.

[3] Matt. 11:9-11 = Luke 7:26-28.

[4] Mark 2:27; 10:5 f.

164

who, by way of fulfilling rather than abrogating the Mosaic dispensation, placed his word above that which they of old time had spoken.[1] Hence Jesus was naturally described as exemplifying many superior traits of personality, surpassing even Moses. Josephus probably represents current Jewish opinion when he describes Moses as a prophet whose like had never been known, so that when he spoke you would think you heard the voice of God himself; while his life was so near to perfection that he had full command of his passions, and knew them only by name as perceiving them in others.[2] Ultimately Christian tradition was able to say of Jesus that "never man spake as this man" and no one was able to convict him of sin.[3] Christian interpreters were, from an early date, under pressure to give Jesus first place in the gallery of Israel's greatest worthies.

As a foreteller of coming events Jesus figures quite uniquely. It was very desirable that he should be thus presented to men of that age. The same Deuteronomic passage in which the primitive Christians found Moses' prediction of

[1] Matt. 5:21-48.

[2] Ant., IV, viii, 49.

[3] John 7:46; 8:46.

165

Jesus also provided a test for determining the validity of any individual's claim to be the promised prophet: "When a prophet speaketh in the name of Jehovah, if the thing follow not, nor come to pass, that is the thing which Jehovah hath not spoken; that prophet hath spoken it presumptuously, thou shalt not be afraid of him."[1] It had to be shown that Jesus met this test, else it would have been vain for Christians to present him to the Jews as the fulfilment of Moses' prophecy. Accordingly gospel tradition notes that he predicted his death, his resurrection, the destruction of the temple, disaster for the Jewish nation, and his own return in glory-all items closely connected with his messianic program.

The desirability of presenting evidence of Jesus' predictive powers may have been enhanced by the siege and fall of Jerusalem. As Josephus looks back upon that disaster he notes many premonitory signs, and blames the Jews for not giving heed to these.[2] Among other things he affirms that soldiers had been seen running about among the clouds, which, he naïvely remarks, might seem doubtful were it not that those who actually saw the thing

[1] Deut. 18:22.

[2] War, VI, v, 3.

166

bore testimony to its occurrence. There was also at Pentecost one year a quaking of the earth and a great noise followed by a supernatural, warning voice. But clearest and most terrible of all was the utterance of one Jesus, son of Ananus, who, four years before the war began, proclaimed woe upon Jerusalem, and upon the people, and upon the holy house. This he continued to cry for seven years and five months "without becoming hoarse or growing tired," until finally he was killed in the siege. Then Josephus concludes: "Now if any man will consider he will find that God takes care of mankind, and by all ways possible foreshadows to our race what is for their preservation." This doubtless was current belief in Josephus' day, though many Jews might not accept his specific application of the principle to reflect discreditably upon their leaders whom he describes as "men infatuated, without either eyes to see or minds to consider" the denunciations made to them by God.

We may say that Josephus found his signs and made his interpretation to suit his needs, but Christians also passed through the trying experiences of those days and were none the less under the compulsion of adjusting their

167

thinking to the historical events-events so terrible that they seemed to presage the end of the world. Since Jesus was believed to have stood in unique favor with God, and was the one to bring in the new age, it was very desirable that Christians, during the momentous events attending the siege and fall of Jerusalem, should recall such words of Jesus as seemed to point to this event and to indicate the manner in which history would issue. It was fortunate for believers that they were able to recall Jesus' predictions of disasters, and to assure themselves that he believed these disasters to be merely preliminary to the consummation of his own kingdom. We have already observed that Jesus' mighty works are not greatly emphasized in the early non-Markan tradition. They do, however, occupy a prominent place in the Gospel of Mark, particularly in the account of the Galilean ministry. While the specific need which first prompted a rehearsal of Jesus' miracles is somewhat uncertain, the pragmatic interest which they serve in the Markan narrative is quite evident. After baptism Jesus shows himself to be the Spirit-filled Son of God, who first resists Satan's attack and then goes forth to display his triumph over the forces of

168

this evil age by casting out demons, healing the sick, and transcending the limitations of nature generally. In this he is not merely exhibiting traits suggested by comparison with Old Testament worthies like Moses and Elijah. These individuals were on occasion granted the exercise of miraculous powers, but in Jesus' case this ability is more distinctly his own prerogative. There are intimations that in some of the tradition Jesus' power was less immediate. Peter at Pentecost describes Jesus as "a man approved of God unto you by mighty works and wonders and signs which God did by him in the midst of you,"[1] and again in the Beelzebul incident Jesus affirms that he casts out demons "by the finger of God."[2] But in Mark's representation Jesus' self-sufficiency stands in the foreground, the only conditioning factor being that of "faith." Nor are Jesus' miracles here put forward primarily as "signs" to stimulate belief. In the Fourth Gospel they are precursors of faith; in Mark they are regularly the consequent of faith. Thus for the Second Evangelist Jesus' miracles are not merely messianic credentials, but are a beneficent outflowing from the person of the Messiah

[1] Acts 2:22.

[2] Luke 11:20; cf. Matt. 12:27.

169

whose presence already brings the blessings of the new age within the reach of believers and near-believers. The disciples do not always understand the significance of Jesus' activity, but the demons do, for they perceive with alarm that God's deliverer is at hand. In the "temptation" he conquered their leader, Satan, and now he proceeds by exorcism, healings, and various triumphs over nature's limitations, to despoil Satan's domains.

This conception answers in a general way to the Jewish notion of the blessings to attend the Messiah's appearing, but it is phrased more immediately in terms of Christian experience within the primitive community. Paul believes that this present evil world is coming to naught through the victory of the Spirit in the lives of Christians, and that its final collapse will take place when the Messiah comes in glory. According to Mark the fatal shock was felt when Jesus began his saving ministry after his baptismal endowment by the Spirit.[1] At a time when

[1] Cf. the Lukan tradition, which represents Jesus as seeing the earnest of this victory in the miracle-working career of his disciples. When they return and report their success in exorcism-though significantly enough tradition merely generalizes on their activity in this respect prior to Jesus' death-he replies: "I was beholding [eqewroun] Satan falling as lightning from heaven" (Luke 10:17-20).

170

men thought themselves victims of all sorts of evil powers, it meant much to feel that the new religion gave the Spirit-filled believer victory over these foes. And the Markan representation of Jesus' activity will have served a most beneficial purpose in reminding the later generation that the spiritually endowed Messiah had exemplified ideally this conception of victory over the powers of the evil one.

While Jesus' significance for salvation is clearly the central interest of early interpretation, there doubtless were many subsidiary interests at work even in the early period. The individual bias of various writers, current Jewish as well as heathen religious notions, Christian use of the Old Testament, the political events of the age, the problems raised by the gentile mission, the developing organization of the church, the appearance of heretical teachers, these and similar forces will have left their stamp upon the growing evangelic tradition. For an accurate historical estimate of details in the gospel narratives, these items would need to be scrutinized more closely. But for the more general question of Jesus' existence they need not detain us, since they were clearly secondary and contributory to the

171

main interest of showing Jesus to be the well-authenticated mediator of the divine salvation. Whether primitive interpretation does or does not allow a place for the historical Jesus may be determined from a consideration of this central feature of early thinking. In comparison with this, other items are of minor importance.

Summarizing the results of the above survey, it appears that interest in recording fully the events of Jesus' career did not manifest itself at the very beginning of the new religious movement. At first, thought was directed mainly toward the future when Jesus would come to introduce the new age. Christian preachers announced the approach of the end, the transitoriness of present relationships, the near advent of the heavenly Messiah. But since they identified this coming one with Jesus, making belief in his messiahship the test of admission to the new community, they could not altogether dispense with the historical background even in their dogma. Especially was this true when they entered upon an evangelizing propaganda. For those whose belief rested upon a personal vision of the risen Lord, historical proofs were more a luxury than a necessity. But these individuals were relatively

172

few in number and belonged at the very beginning of the new religion. The spiritual gifts in the life of the community were more widely observable, and seem to have been put forward at an early date as attestations of the new faith. But all these experiential evidences needed to be supplemented, especially for outsiders. Accordingly reflection upon Jesus' earthly career enabled interpreters to claim for him evidences of the divine approval, and to set forth traits of his own which had high self-attesting worth. At the same time his genuinely saving activity became more and more closely associated with his career upon earth. Thus ultimately the historical horizon of interpretation was broadened to take in Jesus' entire life from the manger to the tomb.

It has seemed desirable to dwell at some length upon these pragmatic phases of early Christian thinking, since sometimes it is assumed that a full recognition of these interests necessarily carries with it a strong probability against, if not an outright denial of, Jesus' historicity. But the results of our inquiry point in a very different direction. In the first place they serve as a warning against the error of supposing that the framers of

173

Christian tradition in the early days always recorded all they knew about Jesus. We may sometimes be tempted to read our desire for full historical information back into the minds of the New Testament writers, and thus unjustly to affirm that they knew only so much of a historical Jesus as they recorded. This argument from silence is a most precarious one. Moreover, variations or inconsistencies in different interpretations of Jesus do not necessarily imply non-historicity for his personality. Even if one could justly claim that the gospel picture of him is so truncated and distorted as to be impossible in reality, it would not follow that he never actually lived but only that primitive pragmatism was using him to serve its own interests. It is too much to expect that we can find a full and perfectly uniform portrait of the earthly Jesus in our present sources; nor, on the other hand, do these deficiencies compel us to pronounce the entire tradition historically worthless. The primitive theologians selected and preserved those features of the history which best served the interests of their day, even though the result was an incomplete picture of Jesus, from the standpoint of historical perfection.

174

Indeed it is very probable that interpreters in the early period would be compelled to adhere rather closely to history, in so far as they dealt with items which had come under the observation of their contemporaries. Only as time removed the actual occurrences into the shadows of the past could freely idealizing tendencies be brought into play. But it does not follow that Christians themselves would be deterred by this fact from taking a reverential attitude toward the risen Lord. They were not making the earthly Jesus the object of their worship; this they were rendering to the heavenly Christ, who had become what he was through the direct agency of God. Furthermore, the early believers found the ground for their own faith in personal experience rather than in historical data. It may be psychologically necessary to presuppose for them a high estimate of the earthly Jesus as a basis for the resurrection faith, but it is not absolutely essential for this estimate that they should previously have been conscious of Jesus' deity, nor does primitive tradition suggest that they were. The failure of the disciples to perceive in Jesus' personality while he was with them on earth the significance which they later attached

175

to it is quite generally recognized in the earliest parts of the gospels. In the first stage of the post-resurrection faith reverence was justified mainly by God's attestations of Jesus, and not until later reflection had done its work did believers come to appreciate that Jesus during his earthly career had really displayed qualities which made him worthy of the later faith. Then the disciples understood that they had been slow to comprehend his significance-a fact which they candidly admitted.

It follows therefore that they had a distinct recollection of an earthly individual with whom they had associated, yet without placing upon him at that time the particular form of interpretation which was later evolved under the inspiration of belief in his resurrection. We are not to infer that this individual had not strongly impressed himself upon the memory of the disciples, and that he was not held in high esteem by his associates, though this esteem may not have been fundamentally doctrinaire in type. Of course the earthly Jesus' personality may well have prompted some "doctrinal" reflections among his followers in those days of vivid messianic expectations, and the subject may have been discussed by Jesus himself, but any

176

conclusions to which such reflections may have led seem to have been pretty generally shattered by Jesus' death. That which remained with the disciples was the recollection of his words and the memory of his individuality, and these ultimately proved sufficiently substantial to support the superstructure of the resurrection faith and the doctrine of the heavenly Messiah.

While gospel tradition, arising under these circumstances, might seem to be primarily a history of early Christian doctrine, there were forces working both within and without the community compelling interpreters to adjust their thinking to the actual Jesus of history. Opponents of Christianity would not permit them to ignore the data of history, especially such items as could be made to reflect unfavorably upon the new faith. And within the community, where there was less need to prove doctrinal tenets, believers, in their daily fellowship with one another, naturally found themselves recalling scenes from the life of Jesus and words spoken by him while he had lived in personal association with those disciples who were now the inspiration of the new community-life.

It is therefore not intrinsically improbable that we shall be able to find important historical

177

information about Jesus in our present gospels, no matter how generally we admit the possibility of pragmatic influences at work in the period when the gospel tradition was taking shape. When, in our modern use of the New Testament writings, we are merely concerned to discover historical data regarding Jesus, we must attach most importance to those features of tradition which seem to have occasioned early interpreters difficulty, or which are not closely linked with the peculiar doctrinal interests of the primitive apologetic. If our aim were to ascertain every available historical item in Jesus' career it would be necessary to make detailed application of this test to the whole gospel history, but since our immediate purpose is merely to obtain historical evidence for belief in Jesus' actual existence, only the more primitive phases of the tradition-Paul's letters and the earliest gospel materials-need be examined minutely.

CHAPTER VI THE PAULINE EVIDENCE FOR JESUS' EXISTENCE

The genuineness of the principal Pauline epistles is among the most generally accepted conclusions of what may be called modern critical opinion.[1] The evidence for this acceptance is usually regarded as exceptionally good. For instance, Clement of Rome, writing to the Corinthians in the last decade of the first century A. D., not only calls Paul a "notable pattern of patient endurance" but exhorts his readers to peruse again "the epistle of the

[1] The status of present opinion is too well known to need detailed statement here. The extreme views of B. Bauer and of the Dutch school are quite generally discarded. Steck (Der Galaterbrief, Berlin, 1888), though he admits the possibility of a few Pauline fragments in Romans, has not won adherents for his skeptical opinions. The partition hypotheses of, e. g., Volter (Die Komposition der paulinischen Briefe, Tübingen, 1890) and R. Scott (The Pauline Epistles, New York, 1909), are not looked upon with even partial favor among specialists in this field. The results of the Tübingen criticism, reworked to meet the requirements of later investigation, leave not only Galatians, I and II Corinthians, and Romans as unquestionably Pauline, but also Philippians and I Thessalonians. Colossians, Ephesians, and II Thessalonians are nowadays less widely rejected than formerly, and even the Pastorals are thought to contain some Pauline elements.

179

blessed Paul" which he wrote them in "the beginning of the gospel," and in which he charged them to avoid all party spirit.[1] Here is clearly a reference to our canonical First Corinthians. Furthermore, Clement's letter often shows in thought and language very strong resemblances to Paul's writings.[2] The evidence of Ignatius, from the first quarter of the second century, is less specific; but Marcion, a few years later, is a most significant witness. He attached so much value to the principal Pauline letters that he would make them his main scriptural authority; and the rest of the church, while it regarded Marcion as a heretic, did not dispute his high estimate of these writings, although it did not hold to them quite so exclusively as Marcion did. By the end of the century several available sources of information

[1] Clem. 5:5 ff.; 47:1 ff.

[2] As an example compare Paul's thought and phraseology in I Cor., chap. 13, with Clem. 49:1-5: O ecwn agaphn en Cristw poihsatw ta tou Cristou paraggelmata. ton desmon ths agaphV tou qeou tis dunatai exhghsasqai; to megaleion ths kallonhV autou tiV arketoV exeipein; to uyoV eiV o anagei h agaph anekdihghton estin. agaph kolla hmaV tw qew: agaph kaluptei klhqoV amartiwn: agaph panta anecetai, panta makroqumei: ouden banauson en agaph, ouden uperhfanon: agaph scisma ouk ecei, agaph ou stasiazei, agaph panta poiei en omonoia: en th agaph eteleiwqhsan pantes oi eklektoi tou qeou: dica agaphs ouden euareston estin tw qew.

180

bear similar testimony to the Pauline authorship of this part of the New Testament.

Yet this external evidence which appeals so strongly to many investigators is easily set aside as itself spurious by those who deny the genuineness of the literature traditionally connected with Paul's name. Doubtless this procedure seems arbitrary and subjective to one who is accustomed to weigh all the historical evidence with care, nevertheless the type of argument which is usually directed against the historicity of Jesus and of Paul does not seem sensitive to statistics of this sort. Consequently any attempt to meet this skeptical argument on its own ground must proceed mainly from considerations, perhaps more or less general and a priori, based upon the content of the literature in question. Here lie before us certain documents which purport to belong to a definite historical setting. On the strength of the internal evidence do the probabilities seem to favor the genuineness of this representation, or does close examination show that the picture is a later fabrication depicting an idealized period in the past? We may present a few considerations which seem to us to turn the scales decisively in favor of genuineness.

181

One of the first canons of a pseudonymous writer is that the individual impersonated shall take the point of view and think the thoughts of the actual writer, and of the age to which he belongs. His primary motive is to claim the support of a great name for his own opinions. Now the Pauline literature contains elements which do not answer to this situation. In the first place, the realistic eschatology credited to Paul, whose active career is pictured as belonging near the middle of the first century A. D., will hardly have been invented at a later date when subsequent history had proved the falsity of such expectations. Yet this idea is pervasive in the writings which are assumed to be put forward here in Paul's name. The Romans are told that the night is far spent and the day is at hand when all shall stand before the judgment seat.[1] Marriage is discouraged among the Corinthians because of the shortness of the time;[2] they are commended for their attitude in "waiting for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ," and are exhorted to refrain from judging one another in view of the near approach of the final judgmentÂ-"judge nothing

[1] Rom. 13:12; 14:10; cf. II Cor. 5:10.

[2] I Cor. 7:29ff.

182

before the time, until the Lord come."[1] In the closing words of the first letter they are reminded of the immediateness which characterized the primitive hope as expressed in the phrase marana tha. Speaking of the Philippians, Paul is confident that God who has begun a good work in them "will perfect it until the day of Jesus Christ," further Paul expects them to remain "void of offence unto the day of Christ" and encourages them to stand fast confident that "the Lord is at hand."[2] The Thessalonians are called to serve the true God and to "wait for his son from heaven which delivereth us from the wrath to come," and they are advised to live a holy life that they may stand blameless before God "at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints," for his coming will be sudden like that of a thief in the night. The hope is for those that are now alive who are to be caught up in the air to meet the Lord, and Paul closes his letter with the pious wish that their "spirit and soul and body be preserved entire without blame at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ."[3] History

[1] I Cor. 1:7 ff.; 4:5.

[2] Phil, 1:6, 10; 4:5.

[3] I Thess. 1:10; 3:13; 4:15-18; 5:2, 23.

183

proved that these vivid expectations of the end of the world were not to be realized, and an impersonator will hardly have created for his hero ideas that would discredit him in the eyes of a later generation.[1]

Against the hypothesis of pseudonymity we may set also the minute biographical details of the epistles. Sometimes data are given purposely to tell the story of Paul's life, as when the

[1] Belief in the immediateness of Jesus' return gradually became less vivid as time wore on. Even within the New Testament period this change is marked. Paul looks for the coming soon, expecting, until toward the close of his life, at least, to see it in his own day. Mark thinks "some" of Jesus' personal followers will live to see the day (9:1;
13:30), but before it comes the gospel must be preached to all the nations (13:10). Though no one may know the exact time, the tribulation attending the siege and fall of Jerusalem is a premonition of the end which is to come suddenly (13:24-37). The writers of Matthew and Luke have a similar idea, though a little farther postponed. The former changes Mark's "in those days after that tribulation" to "immediately after the tribulation of those days" (Matt. 24:29), while in Luke a period of some length subsequent to the fall of Jerusalem must be awaited "until the times of the gentiles be fulfilled" (Luke 21:24). The writer of II Peter
3:8-10 apologized for the delay by asserting that "one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." In the Fourth Gospel the idea of a literal return has disappeared and the coming of Jesus in spiritual form as the Paraclete has taken its placeÂ-an idea which later interpreters have often tried to read back into the Synoptic Gospels and the Pauline letters. This whole progression of thought throws an interesting light on the primitive character and the genuineness of the notions credited to Paul.

184

Galatians are informed of his career from the time of his conversion until the meeting at Jerusalem;[1] but more commonly the mention of his doings is entirely subordinate to the main line of thought. For example, he briefly notes in closing his letter to the Romans that he is on the point of going up to Jerusalem with a gift for the saints, and after fulfilling this mission he hopes to proceed to Rome.[2] He also tells the Corinthians in a few closing words that he hopes to come to them by way of Macedonia, though at present he is in Ephesus where he will remain until Pentecost.[3] The list of these details could be enlarged, if necessary, and they are all the more significant because they usually come in quite incidentally and show no disposition on the part of the author to give a full account of the apostle's career. Had an impersonator wished to make Paul tell his own life-story we can easily imagine that he may have been sufficiently skilful to invent details, but under those circumstances the information would surely have been more uniformly distributed and its lifelike quality less pronounced. The very incompleteness of

[1] Gal. 1:15Â-2:1.

[2] Rom. 15:25.

[3] 1 Cor. 16:5-9.

185

the material as a whole, together with the exactness of detail at certain points, even where the information conveyed is relatively unimportant, seems a strong credential for the genuineness of these letters.

A similar inference may be drawn from the realistic elements in the general historical situation. How strongly one feels the heartthrob of reality in Paul's passionate appeal to the Galatians not to apostatize from the true faith; or in the more extensive Corinthian correspondence regarding living problems in the primitive church! The personal element is particularly pronounced. One has only to place the Pauline epistles beside Acts, to feel the difference in spirit between Paul's own representation of the events and the description of his activity by a subsequent narrator. Having once met Paul in his capacity as a Christian missionary in Acts one knows what to expect of him on all future occasions; he moves on with stately tread, always presenting to view the same somewhat stereotyped features. There is variety, to be sure, but it is the type of variety one finds in the colors of a portrait rather than in the changing aspects of real life. In Paul's letters, on the other hand, there is

186

no conventionalized portrait of his personality. He appears there as one who is vitally influenced by actual experience, making a normal response through the free play of changing moods.

To illustrate this point, according to Acts he goes up to Jerusalem at the instigation of the church in Antioch to discuss the problem of the gentile Christians' obligations to the law; the facts of the gentile mission are calmly rehearsed, the decision is made in favor of Paul's position, he retires to Antioch, and then moves on quietly to further evangelization. We are given no hint of the anxiety he felt on this occasion, nor do we appreciate the personal energy he expended on the problem. But turn to Galatians and how different is the situation! Anxiety for the future welfare of his brethren in the gentile churches prompts him to push the question to a decision in Jerusalem; in order to make the problem pointed, and thus to avoid future misunderstandings, he puts Titus forward as a test case; with nervous energy he presses the issue almost to the point of belligerence; he wins the decision, but his joy is short-lived, for, on returning to Antioch, new conditions develop which result not only

187

in a break with Peter but in the severance of relations with his friend and former traveling companion, Barnabas. We are left at last with no picture of an ideal victory for Paul but with a very realistic situation: his efforts had at first seemed successful, in the flush of victory new troubles broke out, the result was not only the antagonism of the Jerusalem church but separation from Peter and Barnabas, and to what extent Paul was able still to hold the sympathies of the Antiochian church may be questioned. Here is no idealization in favor of either party, but a break which shows its raw edges just as we are wont to find them in real life. So it is throughout Paul's entire career as portrayed in his letters.

To a remarkable degree his personality, as revealed in these writings, rings true to reality. He represents himself as possessing a strongly emotional temperament; he is exceptionally efficient in speaking with tongues, he is on occasion caught up into the seventh heaven, visions and revelations of the Lord are often his privilege. And this is the type of person he proves to be in the ordinary relations of daily life. On hearing of the trouble in Galatia his emotions are deeply stirred, he calls down

188

anathemas upon the disturbers and upbraids the Christians for their fickleness, then he pleads in gentle tones with his "little children" for whom he is again in travail. The same interplay of feelings is even more strongly marked in the story of his relations with the Corinthians. Now he threatens the rod, but in the next breath he expresses the hope that they will permit him to come to them "in love and a spirit of gentleness"; and when the crisis becomes exceptionally critical instead of visiting them in severity he writes a letter "out of much affliction" and "with many tears." At one time he commends himself in extravagant language, and then his sensitive nature seems to recoil and he pleads with his readers to bear with him "in a little foolishness," since circumstances compel him to defend his rights as an apostle. Later in his career, when his own fate seems to be hanging in the balances, he alternates between despair and hope in truly normal fashion and, as he reflects upon the possibilities for the future, two conflicting desires rise within him: to depart and be with Christ is better for him, yet to abide in the flesh is more needful for the churches. In all this one sees not a made-up character of the stage but an

189

actual person who traversed wide ranges of human experience.

Finally, the realistic character of Paul's work, the vigor of his thought, and the uniqueness of his letters show him to have been a genuinely vital factor in the propagation of the new religion. If the Pauline letters are spurious, we must assume a character of the past known to the real author and to his constituency as worthy of the role here assigned Paul; or we must suppose the real author possessed a creative genius which would surely leave its mark on the life, as well as on the literature, of the time. But where do we find all this more fittingly than in a genuine Paul himself? The task of fabricating the material which lies before us in chapter after chapter of these letters, where the definiteness and vividness of an actual situation show behind every sentence, is quite inconceivable.[1] The force

[1] Speaking of the failure of the extreme negative criticism to supply an adequate historical setting for the phenomena, J. Weiss says: "Woher diese Stoffe und Gedanken, wer hat denn die Person des Paulus und seine Briefe ersonnen, wer war dieser Genius? Eine plotzliche anonyme Produktivitat erhebt sich, ein Konfluxus von Geist und Begeisterung wachst aus dem Boden, man weiss nicht, woher er kommt. Und das alles muss in wenigen Dezennien fertig geworden sein, denn es ist dann da und lasst sich nicht mehr ableugnen." Further: "Man sollte einmal diesen Radikalen die Aufgabe stellen, ein oder zwei Kapitel, etwa 2. Kor. 4 oder 10, aus der Seele eines Falschers heraus Wort fiir Wort zu erklarenÂ-dann wiirden sie schon merken, wie unmoglich das ist, wie ganzlich unschablouenhaft und ungekiin-stelt, wie springend und augenblicksmassig hier alles ist."Â-Jesus von Nazareth, pp. 94 and 100.

190

of one strong and distinctive personality predominates throughout the main part of the Pauline literature, whether this individual is viewed from the standpoint of his activity, or in his capacity of thinker and writer. That an impersonator should create a character so unique, and yet so verisimilar in all the relations of life, that minute yet sometimes insignificant details about him should be told without any attempt to depict his career in full, that he should be assigned some phases of thought which history in the next generation was compelled to set aside, is scarcely within the range of possibility. The historicity of Paul and the genuineness of the principal Pauline letters are supported by the data of both external and internal testimony; and if, say, only the letter to the Galatians, or one of the Corinthian epistles, is genuine, the existence of a historical Jesus would seem to be amply attested. But it may be urged that Paul had no personal

191

knowledge of the earthly Jesus, and that his contact with the early Jerusalem community of Christians was so slight that he would not really know whether their preaching about Jesus concerned a historical person or an anthropomorphized god. In fact it is asserted that Paul himself is the real founder of Christianity, which, on this view, is essentially a speculative system paying little attention to the earthly Jesus. This opinion, as illustrated in Wrede's Paulus,[1] is triumphantly reiterated by those who wish to depreciate the significance of Paul as a witness to Jesus' existence.

Certainly Paul claimed to be preaching a gospel which looked to no human source for its authentication, but which had been received by him directly from the heavenly Christ. Yet this bold claim to independence was made at a time when the apostle was under fire from his opponents who were ready on the slightest pretext to interpret his contact with earlier Christians as evidence of inferiority. Here clearly it is doctrine and practice as taught by Paul, and not the amount or reliability of his information about an earthly Jesus, that are the subject of discussion, and there is nothing

[1] Tübingen, 1904; English tr., Paul, (Boston, 1908).

192

in Paul's assertion of independence to exclude the possibility of his having derived a large stock of information about Jesus from the first disciples. His debt to them may have been much greater than he himself realized, since whatever he received had been thoroughly assimilated by means of his own vigorous spirituality. For the first seventeen (or fourteen) years of his career as a Christian he seems to have lived in harmonious relations with the earlier Christians, and he certainly was well enough aware of their way of thinking, and of the value attached by Christendom to their teaching, to realize the desirability of coming to an understanding with them on missionary problems.

Yet it is said, If he had information about Jesus why did he not use it? How do we know that he did not? The occasions which called forth his letters were not such as to demand detailed exposition of the life of Jesus. Wrede takes Paul's failure to appeal, in his controversy with opponents, to Jesus' free attitude toward legalism, as evidence that Paul knew nothing of Jesus' antilegalism. This inference is hardly justified. Jesus' criticism of rabbinism was not aimed primarily at the abolition

193

of traditional ordinances, and in fact the real precedent of Jesus on the question in debate in Paul's day was against Paul, who knew and made it an item in his interpretation that Jesus had been subject to the requirements of the law. Paul may indeed have felt that he was following a line of conduct which harmonized with the true spirit of Jesus' ethical criticism of current legalism; but on the practical issue, as it came up on the missionary field, Paul was breaking new ground. Unquestionably his type of dogma in general, and the needs his epistles were written to serve, did not call for emphasis upon the life-history of the earthly Jesus, but to interpret this silence as meaning utter ignorance is not justified. A similar argument would make the author of Acts ignorant of Jesus' earthly career, but we happen to know that this same writer composed the Gospel of Luke.

And is Paul so completely silent? Drews thinks so, and goes to the extreme of saying that a reader who had not prejudged the question would not be likely to suppose that the apostle ever thought of an earthly Jesus. A few passages from the more important Pauline writings may show the impropriety of this

194

statement. Sometimes "the Lord" is referred to in a way that suggests knowledge of events and teachings in the lifetime of Jesus.[1] Furthermore Paul speaks of Jesus as "born of the seed of David, according to the flesh."[2] In contrast with Adam, whose disobedience brought condemnation upon his descendants, Jesus is the "man" through whom God's grace abounds toward believers.[3] He was crucified, and this fact became for Paul the cornerstone of interpretation.[4] Specific events in connection with his deathÂ-the last meal eaten with his disciples and his betrayalÂ-were remembered.[5] Paul also knew of a company of followers whose sadness was turned into joy by an experience which they regarded as evidence of Jesus' resurrection;[6] and these events had taken place in recent times, Paul having personal acquaintance with relatives and friends of this Jesus.[7] The reality of an earthly Jesus, according to these sample passages, seems to be an indisputable presupposition of Paul's thinking, a reality both for him and for his contemporaries.

[1] 1 Cor. 7:10, 12, 25; 9:14; 11:23; 1 Thes. 4:15.

[2] Rom. 1:3.

[3] Rom. 5:12 ff.

[4] I Cor. 2:2.

[5] I Cor. 11:23 ff.

[6] I Cor. 15:5 ff.

[7] Cf. I Cor. 15:6; Gal., chap. 2.

195

Although he speculates boldly upon the question of Jesus' significance, emphasizing on the one side his pre-existence and on the other his heavenly exaltation, nevertheless Jesus' appearance upon earth in truly human form, the lowliness and naturalness of his life, and his submission to death on the cross are basal historic facts without which Paul's interpretation of Jesus would have been impossible.

But may not Paul have been misled by his predecessors in the new faith, and so have wrongly imagined that they spoke of an earthly Jesus? Notwithstanding alleged independence on Paul's part, his life touched that of the primitive community at too many points to allow us to suppose that he was not accurately acquainted with their belief on this point. The evidence of this contact is furnished by Paul's own letters, and this testimony is all the more significant because it comes for the most part from a time when his relation to the primitive church was being taken by his opponents as prima facie proof of his inferiority. As Paul tells us, before his conversion he had persecuted the Christians most bitterly, a fact which implies his familiarity with their life and

196

thought. It has sometimes been inferred that his claim to have "seen Jesus our Lord"[1] and his incidental remark to the Corinthians that "we have known Christ after the flesh"[2] are proof that he had actually seen the earthly Jesus.[3] This of course is not intrinsically impossible, but Paul will hardly have claimed authentication for his apostleship (I Cor. 9:1) from acquaintance with Jesus at that time; while "we have known Christ after the flesh" may imply no more than such knowledge of Christ's earthly career as Christians in general possess.

Paul's first friendly contact with the early followers of Jesus was probably in Damascus. There he seems to have remained for some time, in association with those Christians who had previously been prominent enough to attract his attention as a persecutor. Then followed his first journey to Jerusalem, where for two weeks he visited with Peter in particular and the Jerusalem church in general. When later he moved on into the regions of "Syria and Cilicia" his connections with the Palestinian community

[1] I Cor. 9:1.

[2] II Cor. 5:16.

[3] J. Weiss, in his Paulus und Jesus (Berlin, 1909; English tr., Paul and Jesus, London and New York, 1909), contends vigorously for this interpretation of II Cor. 5:16.

197

were by no means entirely severed. The Judean churches learned of and rejoiced in his work. Later he was associated in missionary activity with Barnabas who seems to have been intimately connected with the first disciples. Then Silas, another member of the early Jerusalem church, became Paul's traveling companion. The Jerusalem council and Peter's visit to Antioch again brought Paul into intimate contact with those who had known Jesus personally. John Mark, whom tradition connects so closely with Palestine, was also Paul's fellow-worker at a later date. With these individuals of note, and a host of others unknown to us by name, Paul came into most intimate contact, a contact which must not only have given him an intimate acquaintance with the early tradition, but which must also have made it impossible for him to mistake a primitive doctrine about an anthropomorphized god for belief in the actual existence of a historical individual.

We must admit that Paul stood too near to the age which professed to know Jesus, to be successfully hoodwinked on the historical question. If Jesus never lived it is not at all probable that even the most enterprising propagandists could have succeeded in persuading

198

Paul of the reality of this mythical person within the generation to which Paul himself belonged. But another possibility presents itself. Did he not deliberately create this historical character to suit his own scheme of interpretation; instead of being deceived was he not playing the part of a myth-maker? The absence from his letters of any effort to argue for the historicity of Jesus, which would surely be a matter of dispute at least with the opponents of Christianity, together with the prevailing acknowledgment that a historical person had been known by certain leaders of the new movement before Paul's conversion, seems an overwhelming objection to this supposition. Not only does Paul everywhere take for granted the existence of a Jesus whose memory is fresh in men's minds, but a good part of his attention is given to resisting opponents who claim superiority over him because they have been, or have received their commission from men who had been, personal companions of JesusÂ-a fact which Paul never denies, though he disputes the legitimacy of the inference regarding superiority which they deduce from the fact. Paul would scarcely have engaged so seriously in the controversy

199

with the legalists, or have had so much anxiety for the possible outcome of the Judaizers' efforts to undo his work on gentile soil, if the chief credential of the "pillars," namely, their claim to have known Jesus personally, was all a fiction.

Another important fact, bearing upon the present problem, has been brought out by the recent Paul versus Jesus controversy. We can no longer treat Paul as a theologian only, nor was his Christianity merely an elaborate scheme of dogma. Beside these we must place Paul the religious individual, and the Christian life of personal piety in which the apostle and his predecessors share a common heritage from Jesus' own personal life.[1] Indeed in the pious life of Jesus' first disciples may Paul have seen for the first time the demonstration of that power which ultimately conquered his Pharisean hatred and won the devotion of his heart and life. To cite Wellhausen, whom the radicals are fond of quoting as a champion of skepticism in matters of gospel criticism:

Jesus continued to live not only in the dogma but also in the ethics of his community, and their pious life in imitation of him had perhaps even more attracting

[1] Cf. Jülicher, Paulus und Jesus (Tübingen, 1907); A. Meyer, Wer hat das Christentum begründet, Jesus oder Paulus? (Tübingen, 1907); J. Weiss, op. cit.

200

power than the preaching about the crucified and risen one. Before this one appeared to him at Damascus, Paul had, no doubt from the impression which the persecuted Christians made upon him, already in his heart the goad against which he was vainly trying to kick.[1]

From all these data we are able to deduce but one conclusion. Not only is Paul a genuine personality who strongly impressed himself upon the life of his time, and some of whose thoughts are preserved for us in fragments of correspondence with his churches, but the historicity of Jesus is also a prerequisite to Paul's Christian life and work. While the apostle freely interpreted, and at times no doubt greatly idealized, the person of Jesus, there never was a time when to deny the reality of Jesus' earthly career would not have been a fatal shock to Paul's entire interpretative scheme. But such a disaster was in that day out of the question, for the age to which Paul belonged held the generation which had witnessed the career of Jesus and had experienced the force of his personality in its own life. Consequently his personal conduct became the model and the inspiration for conduct in the new community. Nor was this influence confined

[1] Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien (Berlin, 1905, p. 114).

201

to those who had associated with him on earth; it was felt by future converts, of whom Paul was a conspicuous example. He strenuously emulated this type of life himself and strove constantly to inculcate it among the new converts to the faith. His exhortation to the Corinthians, in speaking against the self-seeking spirit, "be ye imitators of me even as I also am of Christ,"[1] is expressive of that spirit of service for "the profit of the many" which characterized Christianity from the first, and which was consistently traced back to the life of its founder who, on calling disciples, had not offered them enticing rewards, but had given them an opportunity to become fishers of men, and had inspired them with the ideal of self-giving service: "Whosoever would become great among you shall be your minister, and whosoever would be first among you shall be servant of all."

[1] I Cor. 11:1.