These updates have been growing fewer and further between over the last several months. I will try to get back on track. This is a really short piece, and the next will only be slightly longer. Perhaps this will put me back on schedule.
1 Καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ ἐλθεῖν αὐτὸν εἰς οἶκόν τινος τῶν ἀρχόντων [τῶν] Φαρισαίων σαββάτῳ φαγεῖν ἄρτον καὶ αὐτοὶ ἦσαν παρατηρούμενοι αὐτόν. 2 καὶ ἰδοὺ ἄνθρωπός τις ἦν ὑδρωπικὸς ἔμπροσθεν αὐτοῦ. 3 καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν πρὸς τοὺς νομικοὺς καὶ Φαρισαίους λέγων, Ἔξεστιν τῷ σαββάτῳ θεραπεῦσαι ἢ οὔ; 4 οἱ δὲ ἡσύχασαν. καὶ ἐπιλαβόμενος ἰάσατο αὐτὸν καὶ ἀπέλυσεν. 5 καὶ πρὸς αὐτοὺς εἶπεν, Τίνος ὑμῶν υἱὸς ἢ βοῦς εἰς φρέαρ πεσεῖται, καὶ οὐκ εὐθέως ἀνασπάσει αὐτὸν ἐν ἡμέρᾳ τοῦ σαββάτου; 6 καὶ οὐκ ἴσχυσαν ἀνταποκριθῆναι πρὸς ταῦτα.
And it happened in him coming to the house of a certain ruler of the Pharisees, on the sabbath to eat bread and they were watching him closely. (2) And, behold, a certain man who was a dropsy (sufferer) approached him. (3) And Jesus asked towards the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, “Is it allowable on the sabbath to heal or not?” (4) And they were silent. And taking him (the man) he (Jesus) healed him and he went away. (5) And towards them he said, “Who of you, a child or a cow will fall into a well, and not immediately raise him up on the day of the sabbath?” (6) And they did not have the power to respond to him.
This is another of those “lift and load” modules that constitute much of what the evangelists tell us about Jesus. Each gospel contains dozens of these little modules. I’m not sure how much this is discussed, but what it indicates is that there were bunches of these single episodes floating around that the evangelists collected. Or, in some cases, they probably created their own. This story is more or less in both the other two gospels, but neither of them are quite like this. It’s the theme that matters, IMO, not the actual wording, Too much time is spent counting “kai vs de” instances and using this as the basis to determine how much one gospel owes to a predecessor. This is nonsense. Matthew and Luke were both accomplished writers, and in neither case was the intent to repeat what had gone before. Instead, the intent was to put the story in a new way, to reinterpret, or even add something to it.
Here’s the problem. Christians have The Bible, literally The Book. We have become accustomed to there being one, single, and absolutely authoritative document that has All The Answers. This is not how myth works. Many people who get past the most basic retellings of Greek myth are a little bewildered when they find out that different authors tell the stories a bit differently. There is no real, single creation myth, for example. It changed, evolved. The idea of there being chaos (or Chaos) at the beginning didn’t come into existence until something like the time of Hesiod. And really, it has been pointed out that Genesis is actually two separate stories mashed together. This is how myth works.
Myth is not a single story set in stone, unchanging and unchangeable. Myth is a process. The analogy continues to be the Arthur legend. As it became increasingly popular, it grew in scope. New heroes were added as it sort of amalgamated tales that originally were of more local provenance. Gawaine would probably be a good example. So the cast of characters grew to include Guinevere, and Uther Pendragon, and Launcelot. Then in the 13th century Wolfram von Eschenbach added the stand-alone work Parzival, which was written in (what would later be part of ) Germany in High German, and that character was incorporated and Percival was part of the cast collected by Thomas Mallory. This is what the evangelists were doing: they were adding and reinterpreting, and doing it consciously.
Unfortunately, having The One True Book has led to a mindset that there was One True Story that all of the evangelists were trying to tell. This is where lots of clumsy circumlocutions and Rube Goldberg-type connexions between the gospels are created in a vain attempt to synthesize them into a single, unitary story. The result is that the different tellings of stories, or the way themes are handled differently are compared under an electron microscope and ever-so-slight differences in grammar are considered to be major variations that prove–mostly disprove–the dependence of one text on another. Usually, small cracks are touted to demonstrate the impossibility that Luke knew and used Matthew. Such analysis while fine on its own terms, is misguided, or perhaps distractive. It misses, I think, the forest because the individual trees are different, and even two pine trees have minor discrepancies in their appearance.
So this story falls under the rubric of “Jesus vs. the established religion”. This theme is perhaps the most common in the gospels providing story after story to “prove” that Jesus was executed because the establishment felt threatened and/or jealous by/of Jesus. This, of course, is the orthodox understanding and explanation, one that has been pushed for 2,000+ years and one that is rarely, if ever, questioned. There are different interpretations of how Jesus saw himself and how he was seen by contemporaries, from the Cynic Sage of Burton Mack to the Zealot of Reza Aslan. The one thing these interpretations have in common is that they see Jesus at the head of some sort of a group which posed this threat. I am currently reading a book Witchcraft and Magic in Europe, a multi-volume work covering a span of several thousand years. The volume I’m reading covers the Classical World, which means Jesus comes into its purview. The section I’ve just read treats Jesus as one of many public magicians, on the order of Apollonius of Tyana. Magic was a capital offense under Roman law, so it would provide a sufficient charge to warrant Jesus’ execution. I find this very compelling; in fact, I’m writing a special topic essay to present my argument in more detail. Other than that, there isn’t much that’s novel about this particular section. So we’ll just move on.
1 Et factum est, cum intraret in domum cuiusdam princi pis pharisaeorum sabbato manducare panem, et ipsi observabant eum. 2 Et ecce homo quidam hydropicus erat ante illum. 3 Et respondens Iesus dixit ad legis peritos et pharisaeos dicens: “ Licet sabbato curare an non? ”. 4 At illi tacuerunt. Ipse vero apprehensum sanavit eum ac dimisit. 5 Et ad illos dixit: “ Cuius vestrum filius aut bos in puteum cadet, et non continuo extrahet illum die sabbati? ”. 6 Et non poterant ad haec respondere illi.
The chapter opens with Jesus talking about people who were killed, either by Pilate during a riot (of sorts) or by sudden accident when a tower collapsed and fell on them. The interesting part is that Jesus appears to threaten his followers with this sort of unexpected and violent death if they do not repent. In fact, he repeats the warning. Of course, we have to stop and ask whether Jesus is referring simply to physical death. To confuse the matter, Jesus asks his crowd if they believe that this death was a punishment because they were more wicked than others.
A quick look at the compiled commentaries indicates that many of these authors saw the story of the tower as prophetic. They see this reference to something that Jesus indicates had happened to be a foreshadow of something that was yet to happen: the destruction of Jerusalem. In the latter event, the city was more or less razed, and doubtless many died as walls–and tower–collapsed upon people. Of course, Luke wrote after this event, but in the narrative Jesus is uttering these words before the event. If we assume that Luke accurately records words of Jesus spoken before, then of course they are prophetic, and they provide proof of Jesus’ divine foreknowledge. If you ask how Luke–and Luke alone–had record of Jesus saying these things, and conclude it to be unlikely that he did say the words, then we get another perspective. Of course, for our purposes here, we have to assume that Luke is simply putting words in Jesus’ mouth. As such, the focal point of our inquiry is not whether Jesus was uttering a prophecy, but what message Luke intended to put across to the community of believers 50 or 60 years after the events supposedly took place.
There are two sorts of ideas being yoked together here. Do we die a horrible death because we are being punished for our sins? There was certainly a school of thought in the Jewish tradition of such a quid-pro-quo punishment in this lifetime–one that ended this lifetime. Nor was this attitude restricted to Judaic thought, or to the ancient world. The second idea is whether Luke intends for Jesus to be taken literally, thereby buying into the first idea. Here we have to ask whether 2,000 years of Christianity has likely warped our understanding, or at least seriously influenced the way we read something like this. Reading this, I suspect most Christians would take it on faith that no, Jesus should not be taken literally; rather, losing one’s life in this world is symbolic for losing the prospect of eternal life in the next.
The question with this interpretation is whether or not it’s anachronistic. When did the standard Christian doctrine of eternal life after death really become fixed in the belief system? Answering this question was a major part of the reason I undertook this task of going through the NT line-by-line. At this point, it’s still not entirely clear that this is what Luke believes. If Luke doesn’t believe this, it will not appear in his gospel. Why else does he need to speak metaphorically here? Or maybe why does he speak metaphorically here? To hedge his bets? Or to put the point across by way of parable? Taken on its own, it’s difficult to say; in the context of the rest of the chapter, I think the implications become clearer.
Before continuing with that, I would like to set something down as a datum upon which we should build, which I believe will help clarify my question. In the late 6th Century BCE (the 500s), the Greek philosopher was promising punishments in the afterlife to fraudulent magicians and wonder-workers. As such, the idea of reward or punishment in the afterlife was not new–and it was apparently not a Jewish idea, at least in genesis. But books of the HS, some canonical, some apocryphal, written during the Hellenistic period (300 BCE and on) start to adopt this idea. So it was not something Jesus, or even Christians, invented. They did, perhaps, systematize it clearly and explicitly at some point in the late First/early Second Centuries CE. That should help us answer the question.
Moreover, the rest of the chapter reinforces this. The next section deals with Jesus healing a woman in the synagogue on a sabbath. So it is made fairly explicit that the woman’s illness was not a matter of being wicked, just as those Galileans killed by the falling tower were not more wicked than other Galileans. But let’s compare this to the healing of the paralytic, who was lowered down to Jesus through a hole in the roof of the house where Jesus was teaching. Jesus did not say “get up and walk”, at least, not at first. That is what he tells the woman here: you are released from your illness. Rather, he told the paralytic “your sins are forgiven”, which, of course, caused a stir among the onlookers because it could be taken as blasphemous. What is the difference? Why the difference?
First, let’s note that Luke does not include the story of the paralytic. This seems to be another of those instances where he felt that M&M had covered it in sufficient detail. But this goes a step further. In that story there was at least an implicit connexion between the man’s sins and his paralysis. Once the sins are forgiven, the man’s physical ailment is removed. That step is skipped in the story of the woman in this chapter. Jesus did not first forgive her sins and then heal her; he cut to the chase and healed her. In doing so, he severed the connexion between sin and bodily affliction. Affliction is not the result of sin. And so, too, the Galileans were not killed by the falling tower because they were wicked. The were killed because the tower fell on them. So that Jesus threatens his audience with sudden and horrible death if they do not repent, it seems fairly clear– upon reflection, at least– that he is talking about eternal life.
This is further reinforced in the remaining sections of the chapter. Immediately following the hubbub created by Jesus for healing the woman on the sabbath, he is questioned about being saved. Here Jesus launched into an oblique narrative about the narrow gate, and the competition to enter that narrow gate. At first, the idea of competing towards salvation seemed a bit…capitalist to me. But we need to bear in mind the oblique approach. The competition is not amongst individuals; it is amongst peoples. Specifically, Jesus is addressing this speech to the Jews. After all, they are the ones whom the master will shut out of the wedding feast, the ones who ate with him and the ones he taught. This relationship will avail them nothing, however; they will be left on the outside, wailing and gnashing their teeth. (Sorry; love that phrase.)
Then, in a stroke true brilliance, Luke concludes the chapter with Jesus, again obliquely, predicting his own death. He’s not afraid of the Herodians even though warned that “that fox” wants to kill Jesus. Rather, he has to go to Jerusalem to meet his fate. It is worth noting that Jerusalem was not part of Herod’s tetrarchy, which included Galilee. Jerusalem was part of Judea, an it was ruled directly by the Romans through Pilate. So, by going to Jerusalem, Jesus would be leaving Herod’s jurisdiction behind, effectively removing himself from Herod’s power. Later, when Pilate sends Jesus to Herod, Pilate is, again effectively, extraditing Jesus back into Herod’s jurisdiction. The brilliance of this passage comes from it’s context, following the story of the Galileans killed by the tower. Just as they were no more guilty than anyone else, but killed nonetheless, so Jesus is going to Jerusalem to be killed, even though he is blameless. Such were the prophets treated of old. \
This last bit is important because it gives Jesus a pedigree. I’ve often mentioned that the ancient Greeks and Romans were not impressed by novelty; they were impressed by antiquity. The Latin term for “revolution”, in the political sense, was res novae; literally, new things. New things were not good things; quite the opposite. Of course, this was the view of the conservative authors & politicians who had vested interest in maintaining the old things. The point here, is that by putting himself in the long line of prophets who had been killed in Jerusalem, Jesus was placing himself in their line. IOW, he was connecting himself to that ancient tradition that Judaism claimed, and the age of that tradition is what drew so many pagans to Judaism, pagans like Matthew.
Just a word about a word. I used the word “oblique” as a description for Jesus’ speech a couple of times. The first was descriptive; any that followed were rhetorical, a repetition when other words could be used. Why was Jesus so oblique? The answer to this has some connexion with the idea of the mysterion of ancient Greco-Roman culture. This, of course, is the root of “mystery”, especially as it relates to “mystery religions”, such as the rites of Eleusis or Isis. Such religions maintained secrets that were only divulged to those who became initiated into the cult. Jesus, and especially his later followers, adopted this approach, at least to some limited extent, and at least at first. This idea of secrets continued to develop into what became known as Gnosticism, based on a hidden gnosis, or knowledge. Mark in particular has undertones of a gnostic attitude; the parables are the clearest example of this. After all, Jesus spoke in parables to the public, but revealed the meanings in private to his disciples.
There are debates about whether Gnosticism pre-dated Christianity; many would argue that it did. I am not one of these. Marcion became a Christian heretic by advocating Gnostic ideas, and the Gospel of Thomas has a fairly explicit Gnostic aspect. Prior to Jesus, however, Gnosticism is not really on the radar. It’s not necessary to say that Gnosticism derived from Christianity; indeed, I believe that would be greatly overstating the case. Rather, it seems that Christianity and Gnosticism both derived from a pre- or proto-Gnostic milieu, which itself was a development on the idea of the mystery religions. Part of my argument for a later date for Gospel of Thomas derives from these explicitly Gnostic elements; they are too fully developed as such to date from the 50s, as the Q people want us to believe. There are simply no real precursors (to the best of my knowledge; I need to look into that) to ideas like those expressed in Gospel of Thomas at that early date. As such, a date from the mid-Second Century or later seems more appropriate. But that is an entirely different discussion.
Well, this is my mistake. Had I realized how short the remainder of the chapter was, this next section would have been tacked on to the end of the last.
In the last section, we were discussing the narrow way, and that only a few would be saved. This is something of an appendix to that. So, on to the
31) Ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ὥρᾳ προσῆλθάν τινες Φαρισαῖοι λέγοντες αὐτῷ, Ἔξελθε καὶ πορεύου ἐντεῦθεν, ὅτι Ἡρῴδης θέλει σε ἀποκτεῖναι. (32) καὶ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Πορευθέντες εἴπατε τῇ ἀλώπεκι ταύτῃ, Ἰδοὺ ἐκβάλλω δαιμόνια καὶ ἰάσεις ἀποτελῶ σήμερον καὶ αὔριον, καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ τελειοῦμαι. (33) πλὴν δεῖ με σήμερον καὶ αὔριον καὶ τῇ ἐχομένῃ πορεύεσθαι, ὅτι οὐκ ἐνδέχεται προφήτην ἀπολέσθαι ἔξω Ἰερουσαλήμ. (34) Ἰερουσαλὴμ Ἰερουσαλήμ, ἡ ἀποκτείνουσα τοὺς προφήτας καὶ λιθοβολοῦσα τοὺς ἀπεσταλμένους πρὸς αὐτήν, ποσάκις ἠθέλησα ἐπισυνάξαι τὰ τέκνα σου ὃν τρόπον ὄρνις τὴν ἑαυτῆς νοσσιὰν ὑπὸ τὰς πτέρυγας, καὶ οὐκ ἠθελήσατε. (35) ἰδοὺ ἀφίεται ὑμῖν ὁ οἶκος ὑμῶν. λέγω [δὲ] ὑμῖν, οὐ μὴ ἴδητέ με ἕως [ἥξει ὅτε] εἴπητε, Εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου.
At that moment (lit = ‘hour”) some Pharisees came up to him, saying, “Go away and depart from here, the Herodians want to kill you.” (32) And he said to them, “Going away, you tell that fox, ‘Behold, I cast out demons and healings I complete today and tomorrow, and on the third (unspecified) I will be finished’. (33) Except it is necessary for me today and tomorrow and on the one coming (the next day) to go away, that it is not allowed to the prophet to die outside Jerusalem. (34) Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city having killed the prophets and having stoned (lit = thrown stones) those sent to her, how often have I wished to gather upon your children in which way a bird her brood under her wings, and you did not want this. (35) Look, your home goes away from you. [But] I say to you, you will not see me until [it has arrived (i.e., the time has arrived) that] you say, ‘Blessed is the one coming in the name of the lord’.”
There is a fair bit that could be said just about the Greek. In the last verse, the bracketed part about the time arriving is not in many mss traditions, so you may not see that in some translations. The ESV and the NIV do not have it; the KJV and the NASB do. As always, I’m agnostic about this; I do not have the chops to have an intelligent opinion on textual traditions and/or emendations. That’s way above my pay grade. One point worth making is the word I’ve rendered as “bird”. The Greek is “ornis”, which is the root of “ornithology”, the study of birds. All four of the translations mentioned render this as “hen”; however the Greek word is more generic. It doesn’t even translate to “fowl”, which identifies a subset of birds. And if it does refer to a chicken in Classical usage, it more often means “rooster” rather than hen. Now, the context makes it pretty clear that we are talking about a hen rather than a rooster, but I’m prickly enough that I want to remind everyone just how not-settled and inexact a lot of these words and terms are.
And aside from the actual Greek, some of the phrases used could be commented; especially coming to mind is calling Herod a fox. Luke is the only one to have Jesus saying this. Why? Perhaps by the time Luke wrote Herod had been dead long enough that he had passed, more or less, into folklore. The problem with this is that there was still a Herod with political power in Judea. This would be Herod Agrippa II, the grandson of the Herod who executed John the Dunker–usually called Herod Antipas, one of the tetrarchs, and the son of Herod the Great. So, not sure what to make of this. Perhaps the two are not mutually exclusive. Either way, it’s curious, and it is a virtual certainty that the use of the term does not trace back to Jesus. Luke may have picked it uo from Jesus’ lament that ‘foxes have their dens’, but the son of Man has nowhere to lay his head. Or, Luke could certainly have come up with this on his own.
A few words should be said about the today and tomorrow section. The exact meaning of the Greek is a bit slippery. Anytime we see “the third” in conjunction with “days”, we generally leap to the idea of the third day, as in the Resurrection. I am not sure that is what Jesus is meant to mean here; but, if not, I’m not sure what it is meant to mean. He’s doing things today and tomorrow, but on the third he will…be finished, or go away. Of course “today & tomorrow” are metaphorical, meaning now and in the immediate future, whereas the third day is still some distance away, and then Jesus will no longer be on the earth. Again, nothing really earth-shattering, but, again, an indication of just how unsettled some of this verbiage is. It makes it difficult to accept the words as literally true if you’re not entirely sure what those words actually mean.
But overall, the point of this section is delivered in the last two verses. Jesus is going to Jerusalem because he is to die. More, it is the only place that a prophet can be killed. So this implies that he is a prophet, which is kind of interesting. A prophet was never a divine individual, so for Jesus to call himself a prophet is for him to step down from divinity to the merely human realm. Of course, he’s being metaphorical again, which brings us back to the whole literal interpretation. But all of that is beside the point to some extent. The passage is meant to foreshadow Jesus’ coming death. We get a lot of this in all the gospels so that the audience can feel assured that Jesus understood the trial coming to him, and that the eventual outcome will be his death; followed, of course, by the Resurrection.
We also need to recognize that the lament of Jerusalem is also intended to explain, or at least address, the fact that so few Jews became followers of Jesus. The latter wants to gather the children of the city, the Jews, under his protective grasp. Unfortunately, Jerusalem does not want this. Instead, the city kills prophets and stones those sent, just as the city will shortly (?–what is the time frame between the “now” of this section and the coming crucifixion?) kill the latest of the prophets and the latest one sent. And there is a bit of a prophecy–if not a curse–at the end. Jerusalem will not see Jesus until they say the words that the one coming in the name of the lord is blessed. As everyone hearing these words knows, the one coming is Jesus. Until Jerusalem recognises what has happened, the current situation will continue: the Jews have been replaced by the pagans; the home of the Jews has gone away from them.
And the verb is “lithoballo”; literally, this is “throw stones”.
31 In ipsa hora accesserunt quidam pharisaeorum dicentes illi: “ Exi et vade hinc, quia Herodes vult te occidere ”.
32 Et ait illis: “Ite, dicite vulpi illi: “Ecce eicio daemonia et sanitates perficio hodie et cras et tertia consummor.
33 Verumtamen oportet me hodie et cras et sequenti ambulare, quia non capit prophetam perire extra Ierusalem”.
34 Ierusalem, Ierusalem, quae occidis prophetas et lapidas eos, qui missi sunt ad te, quotiens volui congregare filios tuos, quemadmodum avis nidum suum sub pinnis, et noluistis.
35 Ecce relinquitur vobis domus vestra. Dico autem vobis: Non videbitis me, donec veniat cum dicetis: “Benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini” ”.
Just a note. Once again, in its infinite wisdom, WordPress has changed the way the platform works. Most notable are the settings for text, layout, etc. It will probably take some time to work it all out. I’ve just spent about half-an-hour messing with it and not getting it quite to my satisfaction. Time will tell. So posts may have a slightly new look. I suspect the way paragraphs are handled will be the biggest change in the way this looks. The new concept is a layout based on what are called ‘blocks’. Each paragraph is its own block. Or so it seems.
We left Jesus talking about the kingdom. This sort of builds on that, but without being a continuation per se. As with Mark and Matthew, the gospels are truly not a continuous narrative, but a composite of lots of little pieces–blocks–where have I just heard that word?–would perhaps be the best analogy. Or perhaps paving stones. They are laid out in a row, some bigger, some smaller, progressing to the Resurrection Story at the end of the narrative. Each feels like a discreet unit. The mustard seed and the leaven are discreet units. And each evangelist can lay out the separate paving stones in whichever order is deemed most appropriate. Given the fragmentary nature of the component pieces, there is only a general direction rather of the narrative rather than a specific path that has to be followed in detail. And of course, this reflects on the Q argument because they would have you believe that the order of events set out by Mark is inviolable, so whenever Luke deviates from Matthew who followed Mark, this is taken as evidence for Q since it can have a different order because it was composed before Mark–except, of course, for those parts that came after.
The point of all this is that the previous teaching is presented as a precursor to what we’re about to read. They fit into a general pattern, leading into the teaching he is about to provide; however, the teaching that came before could have been eliminated without damage to this section, and this section could have been eliminated without damage to the preceding section. In a sense, this fragmentary nature of the gospel narratives–especially of the Synoptic Gospels–is the best argument in favour of Q, or something very like it. The stories of Jesus grew up, more or less organically, to be collected at some point. Mark was likely the first to do so. Now, on to the…
22 Καὶ διεπορεύετο κατὰ πόλεις καὶ κώμας διδάσκων καὶ πορείαν ποιούμενος εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα. 23 εἶπεν δέ τις αὐτῷ, Κύριε, εἰ ὀλίγοι οἱ σῳζόμενοι; ὁ δὲ εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς, 24 Ἀγωνίζεσθε εἰσελθεῖν διὰ τῆς στενῆς θύρας, ὅτι πολλοί, λέγω ὑμῖν, ζητήσουσιν εἰσελθεῖν καὶ οὐκ ἰσχύσουσιν.
And passing upon the towns and villages teaching and making his way to Jerusalem. (23) Someone said to him, “Lord, if a few only will be saved? (Will only a few be saved?)” He said towards them, (24) “You will compete to come through the narrow door, that many, I say to you, they will seek to come in and not to prevail.
The word I’ve used as ‘to compete’ means exactly that. The sense, the root, is an athletic competition. This word does not appear in any other gospel, save that of John. He uses it to describe how his angels would fight to save Jesus as he was being arrested. Later writers, especially hagiographers, would describe the “athletes of the Lord”, that we commonly refer to as “saints”. So this is certainly a novel interpretation of how we go about getting saved, and it’s rather an odd concept on top of that. It implies that it’s a me-against-you dogfight, that I may be able to outpace you and win the prize. It’s a remarkably capitalist outlook. The former CEO of my company (a large one) set up the rating systems so that colleagues were in direct competition with each other. His outlook: three people run a race. They all break the world record. Only one gets the gold medal. Just so, I can see the pushing and shoving as the contestants jockey for position on the narrow path–that has a sheer drop on either side–so that many people fall off and only those few make it on the narrow path.
And the word at the end that I have translated as “not to prevail”–which is extremely literal–is rendered as “will not be able”. However, this verb is another verb of competition; the word is not standard term for “to be able”, and I do not believe it should be translated as such. It is interesting to note that the standard form of “to be able” is precisely what we find in the Latin below. So, once again, we have a situation where translators stick with the Latin and disregard the original. Why? I would suspect that the answer is that we don’t like the competitive aspect of these verbs, so they have been softened. It wouldn’t do to have Luke suggesting that getting in through that narrow gate is a fight to the finish. Is that what he is suggesting? One would be quick to dismiss the notion, I think; however, it is odd enough. Two verbs of competition are used, and Luke seems to be well-enough educated to be aware of what the words actually mean. As such, I’m not sure we can dismiss it out of hand. It certainly does warrant comment, IMO.
As far as the actual message imparted, the narrow gate goes back to Matthew, and the few being saved goes back through Matthew to Mark. It was, however, greatly expanded by Matthew. Here’s the thing: The earliest teachings, likely from the Baptist, seem to imply a sort of general dawning of a new early. In addition, comparing the kingdom to a mustard seed, or to leaven, does not really imply a great deal of exclusivity. And yet, the narrow gate certainly does. Where did that come from? I just glanced at the uses of “save” in Mark; almost without exception, they refer to saving a physical life. One of the exceptions comes in the Resurrection story, which was not part of the original gospel, but was added later. Ergo, the idea of the exclusivity of the kingdom is a later development. Why? It would seem that the most likely explanation is that, when the general dawning did not occur, the meaning of “kingdom” evolved, changing from the general sort of thing to the thing that must be earned.
(22) Et ibat per civitates et castella docens et iter faciens in Hierosolymam. (23) Ait autem illi quidam: “ Domine, pauci sunt, qui salvantur? ”. Ipse autem dixit ad illos: (24) “Contendite intrare per angustam portam, quia multi, dico vobis, quaerent intrare et non poterunt.
(25) ἀφ’ οὗ ἂν ἐγερθῇ ὁ οἰκοδεσπότης καὶ ἀποκλείσῃ τὴν θύραν, καὶ ἄρξησθε ἔξω ἑστάναι καὶ κρούειν τὴν θύραν λέγοντες, Κύριε, ἄνοιξον ἡμῖν: καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς ἐρεῖ ὑμῖν, Οὐκ οἶδα ὑμᾶς πόθεν ἐστέ. (26) τότε ἄρξεσθε λέγειν, Ἐφάγομεν ἐνώπιόν σου καὶ ἐπίομεν, καὶ ἐν ταῖς πλατείαις ἡμῶν ἐδίδαξας: (27) καὶ ἐρεῖ λέγων ὑμῖν, Οὐκ οἶδα [ὑμᾶς] πόθεν ἐστέ: ἀπόστητε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ, πάντες ἐργάται ἀδικίας. (28) ἐκεῖ ἔσται ὁ κλαυθμὸς καὶ ὁβρυγμὸς τῶν ὀδόντων, ὅταν ὄψησθε Ἀβραὰμ καὶ Ἰσαὰκ καὶ Ἰακὼβ καὶ πάντας τοὺς προφήτας ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ, ὑμᾶς δὲ ἐκβαλλομένους ἔξω.
(25) “From which is the master of the house is roused and closed the door, and you begin to stand outside and to knock on the door saying, ‘Lord, let us in.’ And answering he says to you, ‘I do not know whence you are’. (26) Then you start to say, ‘We ate in your presence, and drank, and in the wide spaces (streets) of us you taught’. (27) And he answers, saying to you, ‘I do not know whence you are. Stand away from me, all unjust workers. (28) There will be the wailing and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, you being thrown out.
This reminds me of the story in Matthew about the wedding guest who comes inappropriately attired. Which always struck me as odd, considering that the master of the house had sent his servants to bring in anyone they found since the invited guests had found excuses not to attend the wedding. That story was a parable about why the Jews had not converted, but the pagans had. The Jews were the invited guests, to whom Jesus was sent as a messenger (angelos), but the Jews chose to ignore him. So the pagans were invited in their place. The theme here is much the same: the familiar ones, the ones who ate and drank in Jesus’ presence, those descended from Abraham and the rest find themselves locked out. They knock on the door, but the master of the house says he does not know who they are. This is a very harsh sentence, but it had to be done in order to explain–if only after the fact–why the followers of Jesus were mostly former pagans. And, fortunately, we do get the wailing and gnashing of teeth. Such a great image; and it’s shared by Matthew and Luke.
Of course, that’s because it’s in Q. And, it turns out, the story from Matthew referred to above will turn up in Luke 14. Looking at the Q Thomas Reader and it’s reconstruction, the wailing & gnashing of teeth shows up a couple of times in both Matthew and Luke. The theme of the rejection of the familiar for the newcomers also turns up in a few different guises and tellings in both gospels. Now, the thing is, this is a story that is not at all appropriate for the era of Jesus. This story is a description of a time well past Jesus’ death, so there is almost no chance that Jesus ever said words even remotely related to this. But, we’ve discussed that before, and we will revisit the theme in Chapter 14, so don’t want to belabor the point too much here. It’s just that the omission of these sorts of discrepancies in the Q discussions is a very serious error, IMO.
25 Cum autem surrexerit pater familias et clauserit ostium, et incipietis foris stare et pulsare ostium dicentes: “Domine, aperi nobis”; et respondens dicet vobis: “Nescio vos unde sitis”. 26 Tunc incipietis dicere: “Manducavimus coram te et bibimus, et in plateis nostris docuisti”;27 et dicet loquens vobis: “Nescio vos unde sitis; discedite a me, omnes operarii iniquitatis”.28 Ibi erit fletus et stridor dentium, cum videritis Abraham et Isaac et Iacob et omnes prophetas in regno Dei, vos autem expelli foras.
29 καὶ ἥξουσιν ἀπὸ ἀνατολῶν καὶ δυσμῶν καὶ ἀπὸ βορρᾶ καὶ νότου καὶ ἀνακλιθήσονται ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ. 30 καὶ ἰδοὺ εἰσὶν ἔσχατοι οἳ ἔσονται πρῶτοι, καὶ εἰσὶν πρῶτοι οἳ ἔσονται ἔσχατοι.
“They will come from east and west, and from north and south. and they will recline in the kingdom of God. (30) And, behold, they will be the last those having been first, and they will be first who were last.
Again, more exposition on the replacement of the Jews. However, using the last/first comparison in this context is novel. In other usages, it referred more to the station in life than to the idea of a birthright, which is the implication here. The idea of them coming from all directions is a clear indication that the people invited in will be pagans, rather than Jews.
29 Et venient ab oriente et occidente et aquilone et austro et accumbent in regno Dei. 30 Et ecce sunt novissimi, qui erunt primi, et sunt primi, qui erunt novissimi”.
We let off with the parable of the fig tree, which in previous gospels was not a parable, but an act of Jesus. We’re going to get a few more parables in this section, familiar ones, about the Kingdom of God. In this case, it’s probably best to spare the introduction and move directly to the
10) ην δὲ διδάσκων ἐν μιᾷ τῶν συναγωγῶν ἐν τοῖς σάββασιν.
11 καὶ ἰδοὺ γυνὴ πνεῦμα ἔχουσα ἀσθενείας ἔτη δεκαοκτώ, καὶ ἦν συγκύπτουσα καὶ μὴ δυναμένη ἀνακύψαι εἰς τὸ παντελές.
12 ἰδὼν δὲ αὐτὴν ὁ Ἰησοῦς προσεφώνησεν καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῇ, Γύναι, ἀπολέλυσαι τῆς ἀσθενείας σου,
13 καὶ ἐπέθηκεν αὐτῇcτὰς χεῖρας: καὶ παραχρῆμα ἀνωρθώθη, καὶ ἐδόξαζεν τὸν θεόν.
It was he (was) teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath (lit = on the sabbaths). (11) And he saw a woman having a spirit being made ill for eighteen years, and being stooped/bent over and not able to stand up completely straight. (12) Seeing her Jesus called her forward and said to her, “Woman, you are released from your illness”. (13) And he laid his hands upon her, and forthwith she straightened up and praised God.
First, my apologies; I could not resist “forthwith”. It’s times like these when I get to play “Old Classicist” to the hilt. Although I have noticed that ‘hoist upon one’s own petard’ has now entered common usage. That phrase was formerly confined to the pages of pompous and dusty historians.
Second, this story does not appear in either of the other gospels; at least, it does not appear in its current form there. Yet it seems that there are traces of the Bleeding Woman story; primarily, it’s the recitation of the number of years she has been afflicted. I also believe I detect traces of the Man with the Unclean Spirit, from Mark Chapter 1. That also took place in a synagogue on a sabbath; but so did the healing of the Man with the Withered Hand, and this last one provoked a reaction similar to what we will get in the next triad of verses. So what I am saying is that it seems that Luke has sort of done what is now called a mash-up, where two songs are taken and mashed together to form a single song. This is to say that Luke has performed a fairly sophisticated bit of editorial wizardry here. It seems almost as if Luke has taken several stories, broken them into component pieces, and then reassembled some elements of each to create an entirely new story. This should make us ask two questions: why did he do this?; and what does this imply about Luke’s editorial process?
Even before we get to the first question posed above, there is a preliminary question: did he actually do what I am suggesting? That, of course, is unanswerable. However, I believe the case for this suggestion is reinforced by the combination of the woman having both a spirit and an infirmity. The Bleeding Woman and the Man with the Withered Hand were both presented as medical miracles; I describe them as ‘medical’ in the sense that neither seem to have been caused by a supernatural agent. At least, no such agent is mentioned i either story; one can, of course, say that all medical problems were believed to be the result of a supernatural agent, and it would be nearly impossible to argue against that. The point remains, however, that no such agent is mentioned as the cause of the bleeding or the withering. And yet here, the woman is said to have a spirit, and the action occurs in a synagogue. This is far from smoking-gun evidence, but it bears keeping in mind.
It should be so borne because of the original question: why did Luke do this? Why did he feel the need, or the desire, to insert another miracle/healing, one that is not mentioned in either Mark or Matthew. The orthodox response is that this story belongs to te L source, to the source unique to Luke that preserved these authentic acts of Jesus from the time of his ministry. By this argument, the Good Samaritan and Prodigal Son are also part of the L source. However, we get back to that question of probability: how likely is it that such stories were told and retold for fifty years or more and only reached Luke? As you will divine, my response is “not bloody likely’. It is much more likely that someone created those stories at some point after Jesus’ death, and probably after Matthew wrote his gospel. Luke probably did have sources unknown to Matthew; this would include stories of Paul if not his actual writings. But Paul came later. We’re talking about Jesus here, the (son of) Man Himself. And if someone other than Jesus invented these stories, why not assume that it was the author of Luke? We’ve found ourselves with a very erudite individual who shows a lot of creativity, so it hardly seems a stretch to suggest he was the one who penned these stories from the “L source”. His invention–(I will grant the possibility that he ‘discovered’ them) of these stories is probably the reason he chose to write a new gospel in the first place. One does not set out to retell a story, only to recapitulate the works of previous authors. One writes a new story because one believes one has new and important things to say, so, of course, one is going to scramble things up a bit. After all, John’s gospel is a nearly-completely different telling of the story entirely, with all sorts of things that are unique to it. Did these come from the J source? (I throw that out facetiously, but that may, in fact, be the explanation of mainstream scholarship.)
It appears I’ve answered my second question first: what does this say about Luke’s editorial process? It says that he was pretty much unconcerned with mixing and matching, combining where it suited his purpose as he did with the Prophet in his Own Land story or as he seems to do here. As to why he did it, it’s used as the rationale for what comes next.
10 Erat autem docens in una synagogarum sabbatis.
11 Et ecce mulier, quae habebat spiritum infirmitatis annis decem et octo et erat inclinata nec omnino poterat sursum respicere.
12 Quam cum vidisset Iesus, vocavit et ait illi: “Mulier, dimissa es ab infirmitate tua”,
13 et imposuit illi manus; et confestim erecta est et glorificabat Deum.
14 ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ ὁ ἀρχισυνάγωγος, ἀγανακτῶν ὅτι τῷ σαββάτῳ ἐθεράπευσεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς, ἔλεγεν τῷ ὄχλῳ ὅτι Ἓξ ἡμέραι εἰσὶν ἐν αἷς δεῖ ἐργάζεσθαι: ἐν αὐταῖς οὖν ἐρχόμενοι θεραπεύεσθε καὶ μὴ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τοῦ σαββάτου.
15 ἀπεκρίθη δὲ αὐτῷ ὁ κύριος καὶ εἶπεν, Ὑποκριταί, ἕκαστος ὑμῶν τῷ σαββάτῳ οὐ λύει τὸν βοῦν αὐτοῦ ἢ τὸν ὄνον ἀπὸ τῆς φάτνης καὶ ἀπαγαγὼν ποτίζει;
16 ταύτην δὲ θυγατέρα Ἀβραὰμ οὖσαν, ἣν ἔδησεν ὁ Σατανᾶς ἰδοὺ δέκα καὶ ὀκτὼ ἔτη, οὐκ ἔδει λυθῆναι ἀπὸ τοῦ δεσμοῦ τούτου τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τοῦ σαββάτου;
Answering, the leader of the synagogue, being violently irritated that on the sabbath Jesus healed, said to the crowd, “There are six days on which it is necessary to work. So on them, we are coming to be healed and not on the day of the sabbath.” (15) The lord answered him and said, “Hypocrite, each of you on the sabbath doesn’t loosen his ox or his ass from the stall and leading it drinks? (16) She is being a daughter of Abraham, who, behold, was bound to Satan for eighteen years, must she not have been loosed from this bond on the day of the sabbath?”
Before I forget, I want to make one peripheral point. Note that the animals cited are an ox and an ass. This represents rather a different choice of megafauna from what we normally run across in the NT. The most common such livestock would be a sheep. Judea is not well-watered enough to support any sort of cattle on a large scale. Even a single ox would probably have presented problems for all but the most wealthy of landed persons. That it is included here would, IMO, indicate that this was intended for an audience outside Judea, or the whole Near Eastern area, being more appropriate for some place further north. But that is a relatively minor thing.
This response is found in Matthew, in conjunction with the Man with the Withered Hand. BUT!! This is very interesting. Apparently no one considers this pronouncement to have been part of Q. It’s not in my Kloppenborg text, nor is it included in the Burton text that’s found on the Early Christian Writings website (excellent source for source material). The basic difference is that Matthew says that all of his interlocutors would rescue one of their sheep it if fell into a pit on the sabbath. What are the implications? The simplest, and most obvious, is that Luke read Matthew’s story, changed it a bit, and the result is directly in front of us. Or, Luke and Matthew had another source, another unknown source, that they both used. Of course, this just complicates the issue. Or the Q people missed the boat and this was part of Q. Of course, I will go with the first option. Really, is this so hard? It doesn’t seem to be if you ask the proper questions.
But to get back to context, as said at the end of the last comment, this is the payoff for the story. Once again, the powers-that-be show themselves to be hypocrites, and Jesus gets to berate them as such. Interesting to note that it feels like there has not been nearly so much of this in Luke’s gospel as there was in Mark. That is something I would need to investigate a bit. I did a really good (IMHO, anyway) thematic breakdown of Mark. Matthew has proven more difficult, so I’m only through Chapter 6; when finished, it will be a very useful tool, I believe, for looking at the types of comparisons by theme that would tell us–or, at least, me–a lot about how each evangelist approached the writing of his/her (we don’t know that) gospel. I have seen this sort of thing, in part, elsewhere. For example, one piece that argues that Matthew wrote later than Luke, and used Luke, claims that Matthew has more snippets about ethical behaviour than Luke does. And, by his standards, he does. However, this requires that each injunction of the Beatitudes be counted as a separate ethical command. That is valid, but there is also a sense in which saying “be good” counts as much as the Good Samaritan, and that seems a bit specious. Not sure how else to break such things down, and that’s a big reason I’m having so much trouble breaking down Matthew.
14 Respondens autem archisynagogus, indignans quia sabbato curasset Iesus, dicebat turbae: “ Sex dies sunt, in quibus oportet operari; in his ergo venite et curamini et non in die sabbati ”.
15 Respondit autem ad illum Dominus et dixit: “ Hypocritae, unusquisque vestrum sabbato non solvit bovem suum aut asinum a praesepio et ducit adaquare?
16 Hanc autem filiam Abrahae, quam alligavit Satanas ecce decem et octo annis, non oportuit solvi a vinculo isto die sabbati? ”.
17καὶ ταῦτα λέγοντος αὐτοῦ κατῃσχύνοντο πάντες οἱ ἀντικείμενοι αὐτῷ, καὶ πᾶς ὁ ὄχλος ἔχαιρεν ἐπὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς ἐνδόξοις τοῖς γινομένοις ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ.
And he having said these things all those opposing were shamed, and the whole crowd was glad upon all the conceited occurrences under him.
Contrary to plan, I’m going to stop here a moment. “Conceited” is, of course, my personal reading of this, but I used it deliberately t prove a point. In Greek, the word means “admirable”, or “estimable”, or “of high repute”. It can, however, be used ironically to mean “conceited”. And so I did. The Latin, however, has rather a different sense. The word is “gloriose”, and the English derivation is pretty obvious. Three of my four crib translations (KJV, NASB, ESV) render this a “glorious”. That is, they follow the Latin, which is more elevated, rather than the Greek, which is a bit more subdued. A regular citizen can be “honoured” or “esteemed”, but generally only military commanders or divine entities/individuals–saints, would probably qualify–are “glorious”. The NIV prefers the term “wonderful”; now, in common usage, this word is pretty standard for the realm of mere mortals, but think about the derivation. This term describes a “wonder”, which is, at root, something above and beyond the ordinary. So, while it’s toned down a bit, it’s still not the same thing as “esteemed”, or “of high honour”. And it’s not the mistranslation alone; it’s the preference for the Latin, when supposedly since Erasmus (pre-Reformation) we’ve all been good doobies and gone back to the original Greek. Well, perhaps not.
17 Et cum haec diceret, erubescebant omnes adversarii eius, et omnis populus gaudebat in universis, quae gloriose fiebant ab eo.
18 Ἔλεγεν οὖν, Τίνι ὁμοία ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ, καὶ τίνι ὁμοιώσω αὐτήν;
19 ὁμοία ἐστὶν κόκκῳ σινάπεως, ὃν λαβὼν ἄνθρωπος ἔβαλεν εἰς κῆπον ἑαυτοῦ, καὶ ηὔξησεν καὶ ἐγένετο εἰς δένδρον, καὶ τὰ πετεινὰ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ κατεσκήνωσεν ἐν τοῖς κλάδοις αὐτοῦ.
20 Καὶ πάλιν εἶπεν, Τίνι ὁμοιώσω τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ θεοῦ;
21 ὁμοία ἐστὶν ζύμῃ, ἣν λαβοῦσα γυνὴ [ἐν]έκρυψεν εἰς ἀλεύρου σάτα τρία ἕως οὗ ἐζυμώθη ὅλον.
Therefore he said, “To what is the kingdom of God similar? And to what shall I compare it? (19) It is like the seed of mustard, a man taking which throws into his field, and it grows and becomes into a tree, and the birds of the heaven build nests in its branches”. And again he said, “To what shall I compare the kingdom of God? (21) It is like yeast, a woman having taken she hid it three measures in the flour until it has leavened the whole.”
There isn’t much new here. The mustard seed is common to all three and Matthew had the analogy of the leaven. Luke’s version of the latter is very similar to the one here. To be fair, I’m calling this an analogy rather than a parable because it’s so short.
This has the feel of Luke just sort of mailing it in. He wants to get this in, but he doesn’t want to make too big a deal of it. The juxtaposition and the context aren’t all that wonderful, it doesn’t really fit with what came before. The kingdom of God started small, but it will grow.
But now let us think about that for a moment. The kingdom is, supposedly, one of the basic tenets taught by Jesus as he continued the work of the Baptist. This, and the need to repent, is the totality of what we are told of John’s message. Repent, for the kingdom of God is near. Mark uses this parable of the mustard seed, and adds to it that the kingdom, like a real seed buried in the ground, grows in a way that is is secret and hidden. And this secretive working is also true of leaven; it goes into the mixture and works in secret. Was this Mark’s way of explaining why, by the time he wrote, so many Jews had remained traditional Jews rather than becoming Christians? By the time Mark wrote, perhaps two generations had grown to maturity, and Jesus’ followers by that time were mostly of pagan extraction. That was the secret of the kingdom: it didn’t grow “openly”, among Jews, as one might have expected. Rather, it grew secretly, among the pagans.
18 Dicebat ergo: “Cui simile est regnum Dei, et cui simile existimabo illud?
19 Simile est grano sinapis, quod acceptum homo misit in hortum suum, et crevit et factum est in arborem, et volucres caeli requieverunt in ramis eius”.
20 Et iterum dixit: “ Cui simile aestimabo regnum Dei?
21 Simile est fermento, quod acceptum mulier abscondit in farinae sata tria, donec fermentaretur totum ”.
We have crossed into the second half of the gospel, when counting by the number of chapters. Whether the remaining chapters have more, less, or the same amount of text as those preceding is another story to which I do not know the ending.
I do know that, as we progress through this second half, we will begin to encounter more of the material unique to Luke and less that is part of the triple tradition part of the alleged Q gospel. This unique material is often, or usually, said to belong to the L material. This is simply shorthand for labeling this text that is unique to Luke. That is simple enough. However, the implication is that L represents a source that Luke tapped into, or used. That is, the L material existed before Luke, who then copied it down verbatim, or at most, shaped it a bit. The same is said about material unique to Matthew, the so-called M material. Matthew supposedly copied this down from earlier sources, too. This attitude, or belief, represents a colossal failure of understanding of the evangelists and the composition of the gospels. These guy were not taking dictation; they were not transcribed oral stuff as they found it; they were not copying down–and then destroying–older sources. To suggest this does a grave injustice to those people who composed these gospels. Each author was so much more than a copyist or an amanuensis. Nor were any of them, but Matthew & Luke especially, interested in telling the same story as their predecessor(s). Rather, each author was just that: an author. Each evangelist had his own particular story to tell, his own particular understanding of what the material and the traditions he inherited from the past meant, and he believed that this material needed to be told in a certain manner. That is, each one was creating the story, if not quite from scratch, then as it had developed to that point.
We return to the question: why does someone choose to undertake such an odd undertaking as to write a gospel? The answer is because that individual believes he has something that needs to be said. Another way to put this is to say that he believed the story, as received, wasn’t quite correct, or was at least incomplete. Mark saw the distinction between the wonder worker and the messiah stories and felt a powerful need to demonstrate that Jesus was actually both of those men. Matthew saw that Mark hadn’t gone far enough in insisting that Jesus was a divine entity, and was divine from birth, so he took Mark’s gospel and added new material to show exactly this. Some of this may have been, and probably was, extracted from stories he heard repeated, stories that had grown up in between the time Mark wrote and the time he did. But some of this new material was, I strongly believe, his own creation. The birth narrative would be the prime example of material that Matthew composed himself; the Sermon on the Mount is likely an amalgam of material that he heard and material that he created himself. Luke wrote because the conception of Jesus had been undergoing a change since Matthew wrote; the degree to which this change was in the larger community itself, or was the peculiar understanding of Luke, is another issue. He believed that the behaviours that led to salvation needed to be further explained and clarified. He believed we needed to see the common humanity that we share with our neighbours, and to define who those neighbours are. He believed that the poor–and not the poor in spirit–were blessed.
Realizing that there was no one, single, unitary Truth, a single story to be told, is to take a huge step in understanding the thought process behind the gospels, and to understand the intent of the authors. It is very important to keep in mind that there was no single version of many Greek myths. They were told and retold with different aspects and emphases. If Matthew and Luke were both pagans, such an understanding would have been integral to their world-view. They would have felt no need to retell the same story that Mark (and Matthew) had already told. What is the point of that? If you’re going to write a gospel, you’re going to write a different gospel; otherwise, why bother?
So anyway, let’s get on with this by actually reading the
1 Παρῆσαν δέ τινες ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ καιρῷ ἀπαγγέλλοντες αὐτῷ περὶ τῶν Γαλιλαίων ὧν τὸ αἷμα Πιλᾶτος ἔμιξεν μετὰ τῶν θυσιῶν αὐτῶν.
2 καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Δοκεῖτε ὅτι οἱ Γαλιλαῖοι οὗτοι ἁμαρτωλοὶ παρὰ πάντας τοὺς Γαλιλαίους ἐγένοντο, ὅτι ταῦτα πεπόνθασιν;
3 οὐχί, λέγω ὑμῖν, ἀλλ’ ἐὰν μὴ μετανοῆτε πάντες ὁμοίως ἀπολεῖσθε.
“Some were at that time reporting about those of Galilee of whom the blood Pilate mixed with their sacrifices. (2) And answering he said to them, “Does it seem that these Galileans were sinners besides (i.e., when compared to) all Galileans, that they suffered these things? (3) No, I say to you, but except if you repent, you will all perish this way.
This is really interesting. Josephus tells us of a couple of instances when Pilate was forced to confront an angry mob of Judeans. The first occurred upon Pilate’s arrival, when he installed Roman shields inside the Temple. They did not have images, but they did have inscriptions. Regardless, the placement of anything of pagan origin would likely have caused offense, so there was something of a tense stand-off between the governor and the populace. Not wishing to cause a riot–or worse–Pilate backed down and had the shields removed. The second is known as the Aqueduct Riot, which did actually result in bloodshed. I cannot find a date for when this event likely occurred. Luke tells us that Jesus was still alive when it happened, so if Luke were in any way reliable as a source for dates, Jesus’ death would be considered a terminus ante quem, an end-point after which the event could not have occurred. According to Luke, Jesus began his ministry in the 15th year of Tiberius’ reign; Tiberius ascended to the throne in 14 CE, so that would mean Jesus began preaching in 29 (give or take). Since he was preaching when this event occurred, the year 29 becomes a terminus post quem; the event could not have happened before 29. Pilate governed in Judea from 26 – 36, so Jesus died sometime before 36 if Pilate was in charge when Jesus was executed. So the Aqueduct Riot would have occurred in the period 29 – 36. But we have to add a very large caveat: it appears from the passage that the event is being announced as something that Jesus is just being told about, but this is by no means a sure thing. This means we can only date this securely to some point in Pilate’s term as governor; that is, between 26 – 36. The first of those dates is the terminus post quem; it had to be after Pilate became governor. The second is the terminus ante quem; it had to have happened before Pilate ended his term. The other big problem is that the Aqueduct Riot occurred in Jerusalem. The dead people are said to be Galileans. That means we have to explain why there were Galileans in Jerusalem. Josephus tells us that Pilate was in Jerusalem when this happened, which is taken as an indication that it happened during a festival. Pilate went to Jerusalem from his actual seat in Tiberias for festivals, which is why he was there for Jesus’ execution during the Passover. A festival would bring Jews from different places together, so it is likely that some of them would have Galileans.
So all of that can work. We can fit a chronology together. It is imperative to remember, however, that there are other possibilities. We only have Luke’s word that Jesus began his ministry in circa 29. We have no independent corroboration for this; Luke may simply have made it up. And if Pilate was in Jerusalem for festivals, there is no reason to accept that Jesus was executed during Passover. We only have the gospels’ authority on that and we have seen that Matthew and Luke had no qualms inventing historical events: the first being the Slaughter of Innocents, the second being the census that made everyone go back to their ancestral city. So it is not so wise to be overly confident of the historicity of the gospel accounts.
That’s all fine and good, but what is really interesting is the last verse. Jesus is threatening–er, warning–his listeners with a similar fate. What does Luke mean by this? My first take is that it is another post-fact prediction of coming persecutions: beware, or face martyrdom. Or is that correct? The listeners are told to repent; are we to assume that the subsequent martyrs did not repent? That doesn’t entirely make sense. According to some of the commentators, the thought process was that such that anyone who suffered such a fate must have been some kind of heinous sinner. In this case, I have to agree that this is likely the sentiment Luke was trying to put across: repent, or be killed. I’ve been trying to stretch this to make it into some kind of allegorical pronouncement, or some kind of metaphor for the persecutions that would “follow” this warning, but it doesn’t seem to work. Perhaps additional thought would turn up something, but there’s nothing that I can see at the moment.
1 Aderant autem quidam ipso in tempore nuntiantes illi de Galilaeis, quorum sanguinem Pilatus miscuit cum sacrificiis eorum.
2 Et respondens dixit illis: “ Putatis quod hi Galilaei prae omnibus Galilaeis peccatores fuerunt, quia talia passi sunt?
3 Non, dico vobis, sed, nisi paenitentiam egeritis, omnes similiter peribitis.
4 ἢ ἐκεῖνοι οἱ δεκαοκτὼ ἐφ’ οὓς ἔπεσεν ὁ πύργος ἐν τῷ Σιλωὰμ καὶ ἀπέκτεινεν αὐτούς, δοκεῖτε ὅτι αὐτοὶ ὀφειλέται ἐγένοντο παρὰ πάντας τοὺς ἀνθρώπους τοὺς κατοικοῦντας Ἰερουσαλήμ;
5 οὐχί, λέγω ὑμῖν, ἀλλ’ ἐὰν μὴ μετανοῆτε πάντες ὡσαύτως ἀπολεῖσθε.
“Or those eighteen upon whom fell the tower in Siloam and killed them, do you think that they became sinners from among all the men those persons living in Jerusalem? (5) No, I say to you, unless you repent, all in such a way will die.”
In case we missed it the first time, Jesus feels it beneficial to repeat it. Once again, “repent or you will die” really sounds like a metaphor for the Christian idea of salvation: repent, or the one who can throw the soul into Gehenna will do so, and you will not enter ‘the life’ (= will die). It is very flattering to interpret this injunction in this way. The only problem is the single word ὡσαύτως. This means ‘in such a way’; it’s hard not to understand this as a reference to physical death via a falling tower, or some other calamity. As such, it’s difficult to take this as anything other than physical death.
4 Vel illi decem et octo, supra quos cecidit turris in Siloam et occidit eos, putatis quia et ipsi debitores fuerunt praeter omnes homines habitantes in Ierusalem?
5 Non, dico vobis, sed, si non paenitentiam egeritis, omnes similiter peribitis”.
6 Ἔλεγεν δὲ ταύτην τὴν παραβολήν: Συκῆν εἶχέν τις πεφυτευμένην ἐν τῷ ἀμπελῶνι αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἦλθεν ζητῶν καρπὸν ἐν αὐτῇ καὶ οὐχ εὗρεν.
7 εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς τὸν ἀμπελουργόν,Ἰδοὺ τρία ἔτη ἀφ’ οὗ ἔρχομαι ζητῶν καρπὸν ἐν τῇ συκῇ ταύτῃ καὶ οὐχ εὑρίσκω. ἔκκοψον [οὖν] αὐτήν: ἱνα τί καὶ τὴν γῆν καταργεῖ;
8 ὁ δὲ ἀποκριθεὶς λέγει αὐτῷ, Κύριε, ἄφες αὐτὴν καὶ τοῦτο τὸ ἔτος, ἕως ὅτου σκάψω περὶ αὐτὴν καὶ βάλω κόπρια:
9 κἂν μὲν ποιήσῃ καρπὸν εἰς τὸ μέλλον εἰ δὲ μή γε, ἐκκόψεις αὐτήν.
He told this parable. “Someone had planted fig (trees) in his vineyard and he came seeking fruit in it (the fig trees) and he did not find (any). (7) He said to the vineyard worker, ‘Look, three years after which I have come seeking fruit in this fig tree and I have not found (any)’. [Thus] cut it down. Why let the ground be idle?’ Answering he (the worker) said to him, ‘Lord, leave it also this year, until this I dig around of it and I throw dung (fertilizer).’ (9) And then it will make fruit better, or if not, you will cut it down’.”
Here is another instance where Luke changes a story that is told in both M&M. In this case, he changed it radically. In its previous two incarnations, the fig tree without fruit is not the subject of a parable, but the object of Jesus’ anger. Mark is particularly caustic. In that version Jesus curses the tree because it has no fruit, even though we are specifically told that it was not the season for the figs to be ripe. This is sheer petulance on Jesus’ part, not entirely different from cursing a fig tree because it doesn’t produce oranges, the action of an exasperated man who is fed up by the world around him. In this case, the curse leads to the death of the fig tree; it is not stretching the situation too much to say that Jesus killed the tree unjustly; the tree could not bear fruit out of season, so it was completely unable to comply with Jesus’ wishes. So Jesus punished the tree for behaving in accordance with nature.
Matthew altered the scenario to soften it by deflecting the action from the tree itself to its untimely demise. In Mark, Jesus cursed the tree in the morning and it was dead upon the return of Jesus & company in the evening. In Matthew, the withering of the tree is instantaneous. This is what gets the disciples’ attention and they marvel at the action, that Jesus was able to cause a growing tree to die before their eyes. Jesus explains this as a matter of faith; with even a tiny amount of faith, they, too, could perpetrate defoliation at a whim, and even throw mountains into the sea. More, Matthew does not say that it was not the season for figs, which makes Jesus’ action less petulant & irrational than it was in Mark, but it’s still well down the path of extreme reaction.
This is yet another example of Luke changing a story found in the Triple Tradition. I have used the term “fully told” to describe these, when the pericope has received a complete telling in the previous two gospels. These are the times when Luke appears to feel free either to greatly condense the story–or, in some cases, combine two of them into a single story–or change it as he does here. In other cases, when Matthew has abridged one of Mark’s stories–as the Gerasene demonaic–Luke will restore much of the text that Matthew eliminated. Of course, this has implications for Q. Given that Luke never saw Matthew, it is uncanny that Luke seems to know exactly when to reduce and when to add to stories. For now, I will leave it at that. We’ve covered this ground before, and we will, no doubt, cover it again when the time is more appropriate.
6 Dicebat autem hanc similitudinem: “Arborem fici habebat quidam plantatam in vinea sua et venit quaerens fructum in illa et non invenit.
7 Dixit autem ad cultorem vineae: “Ecce anni tres sunt, ex quo venio quaerens fructum in ficulnea hac et non invenio. Succide ergo illam. Ut quid etiam terram evacuat?”.
8 At ille respondens dicit illi: “Domine, dimitte illam et hoc anno, usque dum fodiam circa illam et mittam stercora,
9 et si quidem fecerit fructum in futurum; sin autem succides eam’.”
Due to editorial oversight, this follows hot on the heels of the Summary to Chapter 11. But then, maybe it will be useful to read the two in close proximity.
There are two main themes in the chapter by my reading. Or perhaps one, with a couple of subdivisions. The first provides something of a ring composition. We start with it in the warning against the leaven of the Pharisees, and ends with it with the admonition about being hauled off to gaol*. Both these relate to the primary theme, which is the coming of the kingdom. It’s happening, so we best be ready for it. Preparatory to that, there will be strife and dissension here on earth. Luke does warn about being hauled before the authorities, and assures us that we will be given what to say by the sacred breath. This is in Matthew, and even in Mark. But here it gets a slightly different treatment, that leads in something of a different direction.
The idea of the sacred breath providing one’s defense is, after all, one way in which God will take care of us. And Luke assures us of this with metaphors from Nature: the ravens, the lilies, and sparrows. God provides for them, so God will take care of us humans, too. And here is where and how the second theme comes in: we need not be, we should not be, concerned about the things of this world, because God will provide. So we should not be afraid of those who can only kill the body, but of those who can throw us into Gehenna, and I think “Hell” is not entirely inappropriate. The concept has not reached full maturity in this writing, not by a long shot, but it’s progressing towards that final goal (and not gaol). And who can throw us into that awful place? Why, God of course. And because of this, we need to be watchful about the coming kingdom by avoiding the “leaven of the Pharisees” and not being contentious in litigations with our fellow humans, lest you end up being hauled off to the gaol, which at the end of the chapter is a metaphor for Gehenna. Luke applied his writer’s craft very effectively: By starting off the section with Gehenna, that image is there to be alluded to by the threat of jail.
This is a very sophisticated literary construction. Part of the reason I felt the seams, I think, is that I break these chapters into small sections and then take these sections piecemeal. Only now that I’ve taken that moment to step back and look at the chapter as a whole do I see how well this is all arranged. IMO, it’s much more masterful than Chapters 5-7 of Matthew, which feel like beads of different material strung together on a single string, but otherwise not relating to each other all that much.
The result is a message that it very “Christian” in the sense of the word that most of us understand it. Luke is giving us a very clear warning: behave, because the kingdom is coming at some time unknown. If we are not watchful, and if we do not behave properly, we will end up in gaol, by which he means Gehenna, or Hell. And one way to be watchful, and to behave properly, is not to be concerned with worldly things, like the rich man who wants to build new barns to hold his wealth. Rather, be simple, let the sacred breath tell you what to say, and give no more thought to what you eat or what you wear than the ravens or the lilies, and be mindful that the master may come at any moment. Now, much of this is implicit in Mark and Matthew, but this feels like a much more thorough and sophisticated expression of this message that had always been rather disparate, or separate, or disjointed until now. We got flashes of this in Matthew, but here we get the synthesized and homogenized and all-encompassing version. The idea, the concept has developed, and been developed. Going back to the analogy I used about Mark, Luke has woven many of the separate threads of M&M together into a piece of whole cloth, into a single garment. Maybe it was there in Matthew as well, but I don’t think so. No doubt my perceptions and understandings have evolved as we’ve moved along, but I was very conscious of what I was not reading in M&M.
Having been raised in the Roman Rite, as a Catholic, my understanding of Christianity was very simple: Do good, or go to Hell. Simple, straightforward, and binary. Yes, the Purgatory thing sort of muddled the issue somewhat, but not all that much. And yes, I get the whole hellfire and brimstone sort of preaching, which is not considered something the Catholics are not known for, something they don’t do all that often or all that well. Instead there is that binary choice that is absolutely foundational, and expressed in such crystal-clear language and repeated so often that the whole hellfire and brimstone thing seemed…unnecessary. I never got Billy Graham. My religious message did not come from inspired rhetoric, but from pure fear. And here in this chapter we get the bottom-line formulation of this message that had not been present to this point. I do need to add the caveat, or the qualifier, that I did attend a Catholic school, run by Dominicans, for grades 2-8. As such, I was available to receive the message for six hours per day, 180 days per year. But that’s just it: the message was not elaborate. It was blunt, as blunt as the paddle that Sister Janice, the principal of the elementary school, used to carry.
One question that occurred to me about this: has the sense of urgency about the return of “the master” has been ratcheted upward again. Remember, this is the first gospel written that was aware of Paul’s career, and that Galatians, one of Paul’s earliest letters, was written in almost breathless anticipation that the return should be expected momentarily. By the time of 1 Corinthians, however, this feeling of immediacy had abated significantly. In the first two gospels the expectation of return also felt muted. In this chapter, however, I felt that Luke was a bit more concerned about this. The problem with this judgement is, of course, that it’s a judgement. As such, it’s necessarily subjective, like saying Matthew’s handling of the alleged Q material is masterful. As mentioned, this occurred to me; whether the judgement is justified or not is a matter for speculation, and for different readers to consider individually.
The second theme of the chapter, or theme 1)B is the sense of other-worldliness. Here again it feels like Luke has become much more closely aligned with later Christian doctrine than his predecessors. Luke weaves this theme skillfully into his narrative, using the story of the foolish rich man as his jumping-off point. We are told the uselessness of placing value on wealth because the rich man was unaware of his impending death. The vanity of riches is a theme with a long future ahead of it. The empty (the Latin root of vanity actually means empty) promise of wealth is sort of the obverse side of being unconcerned about the empty value of the things that money can buy. These latter include clothes, food, etc. Of course, food is necessary, but God provide for the ravens, so God will provide for us. That is a bit step to the sort of asceticism that will take deep root in the Middle Ages; at least, for a few centuries. It is what will give rise to the monastic ideal, even if that ideal eventually will fall short in practice. This feels like a major development in Christian practice.
So, either I haven’t been paying attention, or Chapter 12 of Luke’s gospel is a pivotal point in the history of Christianity. We will start getting into more of those stories unique to Luke; as we progress, we need to keep this chapter in our minds to see if it truly is such a point.
*Gaol: the danger, and possible price of pretentiousness. I just looked this up. Apparently, the current British pronunciation of this word is “jail”. Originally, the word had a hard ‘g’ sound (as goat) that eventually softened into the ‘j’ sound. The two spellings actually come from the same root, but via two different routes. The hard G is Middle English, while the J is Parisian French, both deriving from the same Latin root. I have been (mentally) pronouncing the hard G as “ga-ole”. Good thing I’ve never used it conversationally, or I would have been shown up for the pretentious bastard that I am. Of course, it would hardly be the first time. “Ennui”: Pronounced “En-you-ee”, right? Oh? It’s “en-nwi“? Oops. Now how about “homage”? What is given to a king, as in “give HOM-age” vs paying respect to a literary precursor, paying ‘oh-MAJE”? Whatever. I am much more likely to encounter new words in written form rather than hearing them, so I assign them a pronunciation that is, all too often, incorrect. The same thing happens with sports stars. I read sports, I don’t watch the programming so much.
I just realized that this has never been published. It was sitting in drafts. So, here it is. The summary to Chapter 12 will follow shortly–whatever that means.
Of course we begin with the usual disclaimer that there does not seem to be much to say about this chapter. Virtually all of it is in material covered by Matthew and so is part of the material of the hypothetical Q. Thus the proper theme of this discussion should be the differences between Matthew’s versions of these stories, and Luke’s version. However, much of that was covered in the commentary to the translation. Perhaps the recurring discussion of Q has become a bit worn; perhaps a slightly different tack would be to get back to the roots of what this blog was supposed to do: discuss the actual beliefs set out, and to provide insight into how–or if?–these beliefs developed over time.
The proper place to start on this is with the Lord’s Prayer. And, conveniently, it’s the first section of the chapter. There is, of course, the debate over which version–that of Matthew or that of Luke–is the more primitive; that is, which of the versions is the closest to the original version allegedly captured in the hypothetical Q. I have a copy of The Q Thomas Reader, chief editor John Kloppenborg of the University of Toronto (alas!). Kloppenborg is one of the leading proponents of Q, and one of the leading authorities on its reconstruction. Interesting how a fictional entity can be “reconstructed”; sort of on the lines of “reconstructing what the original unicorn looked like”, as it were. Anyway, in the text of the cited book, the prayer follows Luke’s opening, using just “father”, rather than “our father” as Matthew says. This is presumably more primitive, because the more primitive version has fewer words. Except that’s a ridiculous statement. If you were to read an early draft of a Hemingway short story, I daresay you would find a whole lot of more words that were excised from the final version. So in this case, saying Luke’s version is more primitive because of the lack of “our” really is not terribly convincing. Yes, I’m sure there are other reasons for believing that Luke is the more primitive, but that does not imply that they are any more convincing.
Let’s ask this question: is there a dogmatic or theological difference between addressing “our father” as opposed to just saying “father”? Of course, any time a word is changed or added or omitted, the meaning of the text changes to some degree. So it’s not a question of “if it changes”, but “how, or how much does it change?” Here’s how I see this. My siblings and I have used the term “our father”, or “our mother”, or “our brother”. But when do we speak thus? When we are conversing amongst ourselves. I would not say “our father” unless it’s addressed to a sibling, or perhaps to “our father” when I am addressing said paternal parent in the company of a sibling. Think about that for a minute. OTOH, when alone with pop, I would never say “our father”. Rather, I would simply address him as “father”. Does that offer a clue about the difference between Matthew and Luke? I suggest it may. Matthew’s version, with the first person plural possessive pronoun, is necessarily a collective address, something that’s said in a collective situation. That is, it’s appropriate when a group of worshippers are at a service and praying communally. It’s most appropriate for use with “we” as the pronoun. In contrast, simply saying “father” is most appropriate with the pronoun “I”. Does this provide some insight, that perhaps the addition/omission of the possessive pronoun suggests different intended context? Is one public, while the other is private?
Of course, for most of the last two millennia, people in their solitude have been praying “our father”. But that is after the prayer has become systematized, after it’s become part of the process of worship, when it’s become a standard, to be used in all settings. What about when the prayer was new? I would suggest that the communal setting, saying “our” father, is the earlier context. It’s a truism–but nevertheless a mostly forgotten one–that people in the ancient world did not do a lot of solitary reading in silence. Rather, the written word was read aloud, and usually to an audience. Books were too expensive and so too rare for solitary reading. So when people heard the words of Jesus, they most likely heard them; they didn’t read them silently to themselves, but heard the words from someone else who was reading the words aloud. Extrapolating from this, did people pray alone? Generally speaking, no. In the pagan world religious ritual was mostly a communal affair, whether conducted in a familial setting, or at a large, public sacrifice. Jesus admonished people not to be like the hypocrites who stand in front of a crowd and pray; rather, he said, do it locked in a closet, away from everyone. Can we extrapolate from these to things, communal reading and communal prayer to suggest that Matthew’s is the more “primitive” version. It came first temporally, and it represents the oldest stratum of behaviour. In such communal settings “our father” is most appropriate. By the time Luke wrote, perhaps the admonition of Jesus had taken root, and prayer had become more of a solitary activity. In these contexts, “father” would be the more reasonable.
And this ties in with another difference between Matthew’s version and that of Luke. Matthew says we should prayer that our debts–and the word is not allegorical, but blatantly monetary–be forgiven. Luke, OTOH, prays that our sins be forgiven. These are two very different words, and represent two very different requests. And we noted in the commentary that both versions then go on to say “as we forgive debts against us…:” I have to say, using “debt” in both places seems a lot more consistent than the sins/debts combination. That is to say, it seems more likely that Luke changed the first one rather than Matthew. Yes, it’s possible that Matthew changed Q to be more consistent, but what combination of circumstances led to the prayer being recorded first in Q as sins/debts?
Again, it should be stressed that this is hardly a knockout punch for the “argument” for Q. There could certainly be times when one or the other of the evangelists decided to change or retain the words found in the hypothetical Q. There is no reason that one gospel is always more primitive than the other. This is ceded by Q people; they have no choice. However, the fewer times that can be shown that Luke is not the “more primitive”, the further the foundation of the Q argument is eroded. If Matthew is “more primitive” most of the time, then what exactly is to stop us from saying that it’s most likely that Luke simply used Matthew? There is a point in there where it stops making sense to posit a pre-existing work if Matthew is the more primitive, say, 67% of the time. No?
Aside from this, the rest of the chapter is retellings of stories which we encountered in Matthew. The biggest theme was the disparagement of the Pharisees, throwing in the lawyers for good measure. I believe that it is an open question of how much friction there really was between Jesus and the religious leaders and/or political powers during the former’s lifetime. I honestly expect it wasn’t nearly what it was anything close to half as bad as we’ve all come to believe. I keep coming back to the point that none of Jesus’ followers were arrested with Jesus, or even shortly after Jesus. Acts gives us a full (if not exactly credible) account of the apostles out and about and preaching. Sure, we’re told there were episodes when the authorities cracked down, but only after provocation. As described in Acts, the apostles were not persecuted per se for being followers of Jesus; they were persecuted when they raised too much of a ruckus and disturbed the peace. Paul talks about “pressuring” Jesus’ followers, but there is nothing to corroborate what he says about this. Josephus doesn’t really say anything about it, and none of the Roman sources had much to say about the followers of Chrestus, as Tacitus calls them. Nero blamed them for the fire, which means that they were probably a group that people knew existed, but these same people likely did not know much about them. This sort of non-specific recognition makes the perfect scapegoat: you know who they are, but not enough to judge whether they’re the sort of people to start a fire. So if the emperor says they did, hey, who am I to gainsay the emperor? Saying this, however, puts an onus on me to explain why this became so firmly entrenched in the narrative, in the legend, if it were not true. The obvious answer to this is that it provided a plausible–and even honourable–reason for Jesus’ crucifixion. He was a martyr, and that always makes for a good story and and it makes Jesus into an heroic figure. Hmmm…son of a god and a mortal, a hero…can anyone say “Achilles”? We’ve discussed this before, probably in conjunction with the idea that Matthew was a pagan, but this sort of semi-divine figure was not at all common in Jewish folklore, but it was very common in Greek myth. Coincidence?
That’s really enough for this chapter. Most of what remains to say has been said about these stories in Matthew. The sign of Jonas, the wicked generation, the Queen of the South…these are all interesting and important, but they’ve been covered. So let’s trudge onward.
We were discussing the way the Gospels of Matthew and Luke fit together, and what this says about the likelihood of Q’s existence. Naturally, I was dubious, or skeptical, or whichever word most suits this particular set of circumstances. Since I never read ahead before I start translating, I have no real clue of what’s coming up. Perhaps more of the same; perhaps not.
49 Πῦρ ἦλθον βαλεῖν ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν, καὶ τί θέλω εἰ ἤδη ἀνήφθη.
“Fire I came to throw upon the earth, and what I wish if indeed it were already (…kindled..)
There’s a bit of a problem with the last word. The NT Greek dictionaries–including Strong’s Words–tell us that the word means “to kindle”. As such, Jesus wishing the fire were already kindled. There is no (well, not much) doubt that the form is intended to be read as an aorist passive. The problem is the root word. The root is ana-apō, elided to be anapō. This, however, is not to be found in Liddell & Scott. OK. So let’s try it without the prefix ana which leaves us with apō. Hmmm…That doesn’t exist per L&S either. OK, when all else fails, let’s check the Vulgate. What did St Jerome do with this? OK, he’s bailed us out, giving us the very rare Latin form accensus, which does mean “kindled”. The implication is that we really do not know what the Greek word actually is. It appears twice in the NT; here, and again in Acts 28:2, where it has a similar usage, that the pyre has been lighted. There is a cognate use in James 3:5, but there the Latin is in the form incedit, which is standard. Think, incendiary. I bring this up to show how even the Latin is dicey; there is no form cendo, to which the prefixes a- and in- are added, so taking the Latin as our pole star isn’t exactly a sure thing, either. The form used here, accensus is very rare in Latin. I suppose back filling from the use in James where the Latin is secure, and then replacing the very odd Greek based on a similar Latin translation is valid enough. The point remains, however, that there are still a bunch of different places where we are not wholly and 100% certain of the meaning of the Greek.
49 Ignem veni mittere in terram et quid volo? Si iam accensus esset!
50 βάπτισμα δὲ ἔχω βαπτισθῆναι, καὶ πῶς συνέχομαι ἕως ὅτου τελεσθῇ.
“I have the baptism to be baptised and how do l hold together until this is completed?
These two verses form an interesting couplet as regarding the content. First, it is unique to Luke. But not only is the action or speech unique but the sense of the words is unique as well. Even if I went with the standard “how stressed am I?” rather than my much more literal, but also very telling, “how do I hold (it?) together?”, this sort of exclamation from Jesus is a bit unexpected, to say the least, IMO. It truly hearkens back to Mark, where Jesus not infrequently gets exasperated. What do we make of this? Is there some deep, theological message here? Or is Luke simply having a bit of fun? The commentaries, of course explain this as a cry of anguish at the coming trials Jesus knows he must face. And this is a fully justified interpretation. Part of my reading is that I prefer the more literal meaning of “sunechomai”, which literally means “hold together”. As such there is a very modern feel to the idea of Jesus “holding it together”. Perhaps that colloquial undertone (which is purely accidental, of course) is what makes it sound less than serious coming from Luke. Most render the word as “I am constrained”, which kinda sorta makes sense as the verb is passive, but it wanders a bit from the more basic root, which is sun-echo, “hold with” (reversed in English), as in “hold with”. “To constrain” is a legitimate translation, with a proper Classical pedigree, but it is definition #5.
As for content, these two verses serve as the introduction to the rest. These verses are unique to Luke, but the rest (most of it, at least the general drift) is shared with Matthew and so categorized as Q material. More on that shortly.
50 Baptisma autem habeo baptizari et quomodo coartor, usque dum perficiatur!
51 δοκεῖτε ὅτι εἰρήνην παρεγενόμην δοῦναι ἐν τῇ γῇ; οὐχί, λέγω ὑμῖν, ἀλλ’ ἢ διαμερισμόν.
52 ἔσονται γὰρ ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν πέντε ἐν ἑνὶ οἴκῳ διαμεμερισμένοι, τρεῖς ἐπὶ δυσὶν καὶ δύο ἐπὶ τρισίν,
53 διαμερισθήσονται πατὴρ ἐπὶ υἱῷ καὶ υἱὸς ἐπὶ πατρί, μήτηρ ἐπὶ τὴν θυγατέρα καὶ θυγάτηρ ἐπὶ τὴν μητέρα, πενθερὰ ἐπὶ τὴν νύμφην αὐτῆς καὶ νύμφη ἐπὶ τὴν πενθεράν.
“Do you expect that I am here to bring peace to the earth? Not so, I say to you, but division. (52) For they will be of five in one house divided, three against two, and two against three. (53) The father will be divided agains son, and son against father, mother against daughter, daughter against mother, the mother-in-law against the bride, the bride against the mother.”
Not much to say here. This we encountered this in Matthew. Kloppenborg does not indicate whether Q read “bring division”, per Luke, or “the sword” as per Matthew. Burton Mack, OTOH, has the courage of his convictions and posits the original reading as “sword”. And honestly, if you are going to contrast “peace”, something related to war would be my first impulse. So once again, Luke is the more “primitive” version, except when he’s not. When we read this in Matthew, we discussed how this is an ex-post-facto “prediction”, a “foretelling” of what happened to the movement some time after Jesus’ death. At least, we are lead to believe that this happened. Was it an actual persecution? If so, when did it happen? Before the destruction of the Temple? In the 40s, when it was led by Paul? Then why doesn’t Mark dwell on this a bit more? Or is this a folk memory of the Jewish Revolt, in which Josephus tells us there were a number of factions, and there were two or three inside Jerusalem duking it out with each other and at the same time trying to fight off the Romans. No doubt there was a lot of this sort of thing going on: betrayal, treachery, internecine fighting. Mark does have the section where Jesus tells the disciples that not one stone of the Temple will be left standing on another stone. The scenario he described there was terrible, but it doesn’t have anything of the enmity among families that we get here and in Matthew. And I wonder why?
And here is another instance where the content of the words is wholly ignored when deciding whether something belongs in Q. I skimmed a few commentaries, and they all seemed to dance around the “predictive” aspect of all of this. Sound historical judgement pretty much demands that this passage, and those similar, be read as backward-looking, a description of what did happen, rather than what will happen. As such, it is all-but certain that Jesus never uttered these words. Given that, we have to ask what this passage is doing in a collection of sayings of Jesus. It simply does not fit the criteria to be included as something Jesus said. So, once more, so much of the “argument” for Q proves to be specious.
And quickly, he mentions the mother-in-law vs the bride. I believe this relationship is specified because the wife would come to join the husband’s family, so the bride would be in contact with her in-law, whereas the husband would not be set against his father-in-law. So the relationship described by Jesus would be much more common, and much more deleterious to the smooth functioning of the household if the relationship went sour.
51 Putatis quia pacem veni dare in terram? Non, dico vobis, sed separationem.
52 Erunt enim ex hoc quinque in domo una divisi: tres in duo, et duo in tres;
53 dividentur pater in filium et filius in patrem, mater in filiam et filia in matrem, socrus in nurum suam et nurus in socrum”.
54 Ἔλεγεν δὲ καὶ τοῖς ὄχλοις, Οταν ἴδητε [τὴν] νεφέλην ἀνατέλλουσαν ἐπὶ δυσμῶν, εὐθέως λέγετε ὅτι Ὄμβρος ἔρχεται, καὶ γίνεται οὕτως:
55 καὶ ὅταν νότον πνέοντα, λέγετε ὅτι Καύσων ἔσται, καὶ γίνεται.
56 ὑποκριταί, τὸ πρόσωπον τῆς γῆς καὶ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ οἴδατε δοκιμάζειν, τὸν καιρὸν δὲ τοῦτον πῶς οὐκ οἴδατε δοκιμάζειν;
And he said to the crowd, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, immediately you say that ‘rain is coming’, and so it becomes this way. (55) And when the south (wind) blows, you say, ‘It will be hot’, and it happens. (56) Hypocrites, the countenance of the earth and sky you know how to discern, this season how do you not know how to interpret?
54 Dicebat autem et ad turbas: “Cum videritis nubem orientem ab occasu, statim dicitis: “Nimbus venit”, et ita fit;
55 et cum austrum flantem, dicitis: “Aestus erit”, et fit.
56 Hypocritae, faciem terrae et caeli nostis probare, hoc autem tempus quomodo nescitis probare?
To be honest, I’m not sure how we go from civil war that divides families to (mis)judging the weather, and this inability to judge the weather makes one a hypocrite. I mean, of course I understand that this is all very metaphorical and all that, but it seems a bit of a stretch. Another example of one of the evangelists sticking a couple of things together that really were separate thoughts, but they had to be worked in somewhere, somehow. I should have more to say on this in the chapter summary.
57 Τί δὲ καὶ ἀφ’ ἑαυτῶν οὐ κρίνετε τὸ δίκαιον;
58 ὡς γὰρ ὑπάγεις μετὰ τοῦ ἀντιδίκου σου ἐπ’ ἄρχοντα, ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ δὸς ἐργασίαν ἀπηλλάχθαι ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ, μήποτε κατασύρῃ σε πρὸς τὸν κριτήν, καὶ ὁ κριτής σε παραδώσει τῷ πράκτορι, καὶ ὁ πράκτωρ σε βαλεῖ εἰς φυλακήν.
59 λέγω σοι, οὐ μὴ ἐξέλθῃς ἐκεῖθεν ἕως καὶ τὸ ἔσχατον λεπτὸν ἀποδῷς.
(57) And what is from yourselves that you do not judge what is just? (58) For as you lead your adversary before the magistrate (lit = ruler), on the way (there) be delivered of your work from him, lest he pull you down (by) the judgement, and the judge hands you over to the official who executes the judgement (all in the same word), and the official who executes the judgement throws you in the guard-house (gaol). (59) I tell you, you may not come out of there and your last small brass coin you may give over.”
Wow. There is a whole bunch of really unusual, or rather, specialised, vocabulary in this section. A lot of it is unique to Luke in the NT, but, for the most part, the vocabulary is not obscure in the corpus of Classical/pagan Greek. Rather the opposite. Let’s start with archontas/archon. It’s a generic word for “ruler”, but by this point “magistrate” is not a bad translation. The real ruler, of course, was the Emperor, so the various rulers of the towns, etc were local offices. Archaic Athens had three annual archons, the king archon, the eponymous (chief, as in primus inter pares) and war archon. From there the term became generic; Gnostic cosmology posits a sometimes bewildering number of archons, who rule various aspects of the universe. So, it’s kind of a generic term. I happened to notice that it gets translated as “prince of the devils” or “prince of the pagans”. I’m not crazy about using it in terms of royalty since the word is of very secular origin; however, there is no real equivalent in Greek–or Latin, for that matter–for our concept of “prince”. The word is Latin, and comes from princeps, which means “first”. It’s actually a combination of primus caput, literally “first head”. So it’s the first in line, etc. Then it comes to mean “distinguished”. Then Augustus becomes known as Princeps; the First Citizen, and so it became a title. But it did not become a rank until the Mediaeval period, when royalty became the norm in Europe, in those areas where Latin served as the root language.
“The official who executes the judgement” is all captured by a single word: praktor. If you look at it, the derivation of “proctor” is pretty obvious. Vowels are very malleable, and they transition easily as words evolve, especially when moving from one language to another. So many English words with Germanic roots have identical consonant groupings, but the vowels are different. An example is something like vergessen, “forgotten”. Remember that the German “V” is pronounced as an English “F”.
Then there lepton, a small brass coin. Think, penny, or farthing–whatever the hell a farthing is. “Penny” is another good German-to-English example. Pfenning. The terminal “IG” in German almost always comes across as “-Y” in English. Again, though, the word is very rare in the NT. Aside from here, Mark uses it in the tale of the Widow’s Mite.
I used to hate the term “gaol”. Times change. I’m more pretentious now.
The word “adversary” has been deliberately saved for last. In Hebrew, adversary is usually rendered as satan; in the OT, this is rarely a capital word. In fact, it’s used in 1 Kings to describe the military adversaries of…one of the kings. The word here is closer to a legal term, referring to an adversary in court. Is there an English term? The party of the first part vs the party of the second part? It is used in the same way in the same story by Matthew. Again, let’s ask ourselves: would an early, Jewish follower of Jesus know this word? Would Jesus know this word? It’s not out of the question. Justice, higher justice anyway, in the easter Mediterranean at the time would have been dispensed in Greek. Pilate spoke Greek, and all the educated Jews like Josephus spoke Greek. But would someone from a backwater like Caphernaum ever encounter Greek justice? Hard to say. So, once again, we have to ask if we should reasonably expect a word like this to be found in Q. Offhand, I would say “no”. It is much more likely that it originated with an educated individual like Matthew.
And then note what Luke does: he takes the basic story as told by Matthew and then throws in about a dozen (well, four or five) additional legal terms. As for the implications here, first and foremost we can toss any notion that Luke’s version is the more “primitive” version which more closely resembled what Q must have looked like. That is patently risible. Think about it: the attempt is to couple Luke with being the more primitive when his version here is clearly much–much–more sophisticated. And this is the second example of this that we’ve come across in this chapter. The sense I derive from this is that Luke, as he has done in the past, “improves” upon, or “corrects” Matthew. He’s seeing Matthew’s technical term–adversary–and raising him praktor and a few others.
So much for the technical stuff. What about the meaning? This is blunted, to a certain extent, by having encountered it in Matthew. The tone feels slightly different here; in Matthew, this is part of the Sermon on the Mount, and it’s really meant to be an injunction to put aside your differences and come to a settlement before bad things happen to you. The bit about gaol is more of a metaphor, of course, but effective. Here there is more of a sense of menace, that the threat of jail is really that: a threat, and not one to be taken lightly. It’s tempting to see this as an allusion to Hell, and that’s possible, but just barely. And it’s much more likely here than it was in Matthew. I say that largely because of the change in tone, from admonishment something very close to a threat.
57 Quid autem et a vobis ipsis non iudicatis, quod iustum est?
58 Cum autem vadis cum adversario tuo ad principem, in via da operam liberari ab illo, ne forte trahat te apud iudicem, et iudex tradat te exactori, et exactor mittat te in carcerem.
59 Dico tibi: Non exies inde, donec etiam novissimum minutum reddas”.
The last section ended with a discussion about poverty. My contention is that this was not a significant aspect of Jesus’ teaching; rather, it slowly gained importance until Luke pushed it into the level of prominence that we now consider as an integral part of Jesus’ original message. This has some real-world implications for our life today; if the message on the blessedness of the poor, and the injunction to help our neighbor is missing, to a large extent, from half of the gospels, it becomes much easier to overlook. Now we turn from that to other aspects of Jesus’ teaching.
35 Ἔστωσαν ὑμῶν αἱ ὀσφύες περιεζωσμέναι καὶ οἱ λύχνοι καιόμενοι,
36 καὶ ὑμεῖς ὅμοιοι ἀνθρώποις προσδεχομένοις τὸν κύριον ἑαυτῶν πότε ἀναλύσῃ ἐκ τῶν γάμων, ἵνα ἐλθόντος καὶ κρούσαντος εὐθέως ἀνοίξωσιν αὐτῷ.
“Let Your loins be girded, and the candles burning, (36) and you are the same as men expecting their lord when he has become loosed from his wedding, in order him coming and striking immediately opening for him.
A few things. The first word in Verse 35 is a third person imperative. “Let it…” more or less captures the sense, all though there is a sense in which the “let it” is directed at the person hearing; that is, it’s actually a second person imperative. And the word for “gird” is based on the word for “put a belt on”; John the Baptist’s leather belt is described by the base meaning of the word. I actually saw a drawing of how one girds one’s loins. If you recall that the standard garb was a long tunic rather than trousers, the idea of girding is to take a belt and use it to hold up the hem of the tunic so that the legs are able to move freely. And the “become loosed” is me being a tad pedantic. The only citation of this meaning “return” is this one. So, you can see the progression from “become loosed” to “return” is logical. And the Latin is “to return”, so this is how St Jerome understood the word.
Kloppenborg in his Q/Thomas Reader does not include this in Q; he cites it as uniquely Luke. I’m not sure I agree with this assessment. The idea of waiting with lamps for the lord to return is certainly found in Matthew. The difference is that in Matthew, we have ten virgins waiting with lamps, and some brought extra oil while others did not. So the externals are very different, but the basic metaphor is identical. In that instance, too, Kloppenborg notes the very obvious dissimilarities and concludes that the story is unique to Matthew. That is, neither story is believed to be part of Q. This is what happens, IMO, when we get so focused on the individual trees and forget to take a step back and look at the forest. That is, the analysis is so hung up on stuff like kai/de distribution that we never (well, maybe almost never… ) consider the overall message. This has been a glaring failure all through the entire consideration of Q; this is simply another example. Again, yes, this metaphor can be seen as coincidental; but how many coincidences does it take to equal evidence of correlation? Whatever the number is, the Q project apparently believes it’s higher than however many exist.
35 Sint lumbi vestri praecincti et lucernae ardentes,
36 et vos similes hominibus exspectantibus dominum suum, quando revertatur a nuptiis, ut, cum venerit et pulsaverit, confestim aperiant ei.
37 μακάριοι οἱ δοῦλοι ἐκεῖνοι, οὓς ἐλθὼν ὁ κύριος εὑρήσει γρηγοροῦντας: ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι περιζώσεται καὶ ἀνακλινεῖ αὐτοὺς καὶ παρελθὼν διακονήσει αὐτοῖς.
38 κἂν ἐν τῇ δευτέρᾳ κἂν ἐν τῇ τρίτῃ φυλακῇ ἔλθῃ καὶ εὕρῃ οὕτως, μακάριοί εἰσιν ἐκεῖνοι.
“Blessed are those slaves whom, the lord coming finds awake watching. Amen I say to you that he (the lord) will have girded his loins and they reclining coming he will serve them. (38) And in the second or third watch he should come and find them this, blessed are they.
Seems to be a lot of girding of loins going on here. The salient point in these two verses is the word “watching”. This is another unusual word. While it’s not quite as rare as oligopistos (of little faith) it’s still a Jewish (LXX) and Christian word, not used much (no cites in L&S). However, it is used a couple of times in Matthew. And one of the placements of the word there is interesting. It comes at the end of the story of the Ten Virgins, in reference to the five that had brought extra oil. Odd, isn’t it?
Well, full disclosure. Matthew also uses the word in the story about the master who would be watchful if he knew when the thief was coming. We will get to Luke’s version of this in the next couple of verses. So while it may be interesting, it is not by any means conclusive. It is decidedly ambiguous. But it’s one more instance of a “coincidence” in usage of a word much more interesting than the kai/de distinction.
We did mention before, that the night was divided into four (IIRC) watches. The first would start at dusk and last something like three or four hours. So the second and third watches would be the stretch from, say, eleven until the couple of hours before dawn. That is, the dead of night. My apologies for the imprecision, but being precise s not particularly important; “the dead of night” gets the idea across well enough.
37 Beati, servi illi, quos, cum venerit dominus, invenerit vigilantes. Amen dico vobis, quod praecinget se et faciet illos discumbere et transiens ministrabit illis.
38 Et si venerit in secunda vigilia, et si in tertia vigilia venerit, et ita invenerit, beati sunt illi.
39 τοῦτο δὲ γινώσκετε ὅτι εἰ ᾔδει ὁ οἰκοδεσπότης ποίᾳ ὥρᾳ ὁ κλέπτης ἔρχεται, οὐκ ἂν ἀφῆκεν διορυχθῆναι τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ.
40 καὶ ὑμεῖς γίνεσθε ἕτοιμοι, ὅτι ἧ ὥρᾳ οὐ δοκεῖτε ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἔρχεται.
“This you will know that if the lord of the manor should know which hour the thief comes, he would not allow to be broken into his home. And become you (imperative), that at the hour you do not expect the son of man comes”.
The word that I translated as “become you” is a second person plural imperative. “You must become” would probably be the most idiomatic rendering, but that implies obligation rather than command. There is a difference. And I could have (should have?) rendered it, simply, as “be ready” since the base meaning of verb gignomai, or here as ginomai, “to become”, is very often just used as a replacement for “to be”. However, in this instance, I like the sense of using it in its truest sense. “Be ready” is one thing; “become ready” is something rather different. It has the decided implication that the disciples are not ready at the particular moment.
Secondly, in Verse 39, there is a minority ms tradition that adds the word “watchful”. The sentence then reads …(the lord) was watchful and would not allow…). The word used was the same one we commented upon in the previous couplet. Matthew used the word in his version of this story, which preceded (rather than following as it does here) the story of the Ten Virgins. I do not accept the inclusion of the word here; as I said, it’s a decidedly less robust tradition, usually only found in the footnotes. It’s just that the two Greek texts I use were split on it, so it seemed worth mentioning. The most likely explanation is that some copyist added it to a Lukan ms tradition based on the inclusion of the word in Matthew.
Even so, let’s stop and think about this for a moment. We have an unusual word. Matthew uses it in this story, then again at the end of a story about having your lamp/candle lighted and being watchful for the return of the lord. Luke does not use it in this story, but uses it in his version of the warning to have your lamp/candle lighted and be watchful. The story of the light/watchfulness, which has the word in both Matthew and Luke is not in Q; but the story of the lord and the thief is in Q. But the word in question is in Matthew and not Luke; that is, the word appears in the version that is supposed to be less primitive. That is, the word was not in Q, was not in Luke, but was in Matthew. Does any of this seem remotely logical? That is the crux of the matter, the question you have to ask yourself. Does the Q theory make sense–if you don’t assume its existence and then work backward to prove it. Remember, without Q, there is no link to Jesus for most of the most memorable episodes and teachings of the NT. That alone makes Q an absolute necessity for a lot of people, and these people will then twist themselves into all sorts of Gordian pretzels and ignore all sorts of arguments in order to feel confident that such a link to Jesus does exist, no matter what. That is faith; it is not scholarship.
39 Hoc autem scitote, quia, si sciret pater familias, qua hora fur veniret, non sineret perfodi domum suam.
40 Et vos estote parati, quia, qua hora non putatis, Filius hominis venit”.
41 Εἶπεν δὲ ὁ Πέτρος, Κύριε, πρὸς ἡμᾶς τὴν παραβολὴν ταύτην λέγεις ἢ καὶ πρὸς πάντας;
42 καὶ εἶπεν ὁ κύριος, Τίς ἄρα ἐστὶν ὁ πιστὸς οἰκονόμος ὁ φρόνιμος, ὃν καταστήσει ὁ κύριος ἐπὶ τῆς θεραπείας αὐτοῦ τοῦ διδόναι ἐν καιρῷ [τὸ] σιτομέτριον;
43 μακάριος ὁ δοῦλος ἐκεῖνος, ὃν ἐλθὼν ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ εὑρήσει ποιοῦντα οὕτως:
44 ἀληθῶς λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι ἐπὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς ὑπάρχουσιν αὐτοῦ καταστήσει αὐτόν.
45 ἐὰν δὲ εἴπῃ ὁ δοῦλος ἐκεῖνος ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτοῦ, Χρονίζει ὁ κύριός μου ἔρχεσθαι, καὶ ἄρξηται τύπτειν τοὺς παῖδας καὶ τὰς παιδίσκας, ἐσθίειν τε καὶ πίνειν καὶ μεθύσκεσθαι,
46 ἥξει ὁ κύριος τοῦ δούλου ἐκείνου ἐν ἡμέρᾳ ἧ οὐ προσδοκᾷ καὶ ἐν ὥρᾳ ἧ οὐ γινώσκει, καὶ διχοτομήσει αὐτὸν καὶ τὸ μέρος αὐτοῦ μετὰ τῶν ἀπίστων θήσει.
47 ἐκεῖνος δὲ ὁ δοῦλος ὁ γνοὺς τὸ θέλημα τοῦ κυρίου αὐτοῦ καὶ μὴ ἑτοιμάσας ἢ ποιήσας πρὸς τὸ θέλημα αὐτοῦ δαρήσεται πολλάς:
48 ὁ δὲ μὴ γνούς, ποιήσας δὲ ἄξια πληγῶν, δαρήσεται ὀλίγας. παντὶ δὲ ᾧ ἐδόθη πολύ, πολὺ ζητηθήσεται παρ’ αὐτοῦ, καὶ ᾧ παρέθεντο πολύ, περισσότερον αἰτήσουσιν αὐτόν.
And Peter said, “Lord, to us this parable do you speak, or also to all?” (42) And the lord said, “Who is this faithful and wise steward whom the lord places down upon his service to give in its appropriate time the allotment of wheat? (43) Blessed is that slave, who the lord coming the lord finds doing thus. (44) Truly I say to you that upon all those of his in existence he will set down that one. (45) If that slave says in his heart, ‘My lord will use time to come’, and he will rule to smite the male slaves and the female slaves eating and drinking and to be drunk, (46) the lord of that slave will return on a day which he (the slave) does not see and an hour which he does not recognise, and will cut him in twain and he (the lord) will put the portions of him (the slave) with the unfaithful ones. (47) That slave knowing the will of his lord and is not ready or doing towards his (the lord’s) will be thrashed much. (48) The one not knowing, doing things worthy of a beating, will receive a small thrashing. For to all to whom much has been given, much will be sought from him, and the one to whom much has been put forward, the most they will ask of him.”
I believe I’ve been fairly consistent in rendering it as “parable”. The word means something more like “comparison”. But, it’s not too much of a stretch to make it reach our concept of “parable”. It should be obvious that it’s the same word as “parabola”. The word has plenty of mathematical uses in Greek; however, the uses are more like a technical vocabulary rather than cascading meanings. Sort of like the word “strike” in baseball, or bowling. Yes, the basic sense of “smite” lurks there, somewhere, but especially in the baseball term, that original meaning is pretty well buried. And notice how Peter asks the question, but Jesus doesn’t answer? This is, I believe, a glancing blow at Mark, where he tells us that Jesus taught in parables, but told the disciples, and only the disciples, the meanings in private.
The rest of this, for the most part, is Q material. There are two things I want to mention. First, there is yet another really odd word in here. It’s what I rendered as “cut in twain” (sorry; couldn’t resist). It is also a math term for “bisect”, as in “bisecting an angle”, which is to cut an angle into two equal parts; IOW, to cut in twain. The only place it doesn’t mean “bisect” (or its synonyms) is in the Gospel of Matthew–and, by extension, of Luke. Now, Luke did not come up with this word independently; the probability of that, while not zero, is pretty daunting, somewhere in the neighborhood of lightning strike. So this means that Luke either got the word from Q, which is where Matthew got it, or that Luke got it from Matthew. We have discussed this before, but I do not recall the word in question. I have started writing these down now because I believe I can construct a decent case for this. The point is, let’s recall what Q is supposed to be. In theory, it is a collection of stuff Jesus said that was written down very soon after Jesus died, if not while he was alive. This, in turn, means one of two things. The first possibility is that Jesus indeed actually used the word, or its Aramaic equivalent. It’s highly unlikely that Jesus knew enough Greek to come up with a word like this.
So if Jesus didn’t use the word, this means that the “author”–“compiler” is perhaps more accurate–of Q chose the word. This makes more sense because if Q was written, it was probably written in Greek. In fact, if Luke and Matthew both came across the word in Q, then Q must have been written in Greek. Of course, it’s possible that Q was written in Aramaic, and that Jesus used the Aramaic term for “thrash bodily”, which the Q author recorded. Then Matthew came along, saw the Aramaic term, had heard of a Greek word for “bisect”, and decided to make it a synonym for “to thrash”. Of course, this would mean that Luke either translated the Aramaic word exactly as Matthew did, which, given the rarity of the word, seems very unlikely. Or, Luke copied the word from Matthew. So either the author of Q used the obscure Greek word, not quite properly, and was copied by both Luke and Matthew, or Matthew used the obscure term, not quite properly, and was copied by Luke. In fact, I would suggest that the use by Luke indicates that he copied it from his source rather blindly, not exactly sure of what the word meant. Had he truly known, it seems reasonable that he would have understood that the word was not being used properly and would have substituted a more appropriate word.
So who came up with the Greek word? Matthew? Or the compiler of Q? And let us forget the supposed provenance of Q. For it to be what people want it to be, it had to be early. The earlier the better. What is the likelihood that this compiler, writing shortly after Jesus–if not during Jesus’ life–was well-versed in Greek? The original followers of Jesus were Aramaic speakers. Paul wrote in Greek, but a generation after Jesus, and Paul’s early letters do not exactly demonstrate a great command of the language. More than likely the later letters, which do show a better command of Greek, were translated for him by an amanuensis. But Q, supposedly, pre-dates Paul. That the movement, in its earliest days, attracted someone who could come up with a word like “bisect”, a technical term, even to misuse it, is very, very improbable. So either the word was late–which defeats the whole point of Q–or Matthew used it and was followed by Luke. Nor does it matter whether Jesus used the word or not in its Aramaic form. The problem remains. It seems rather a sticky wicket for the Q people.
The second point rather dovetails with the first. We’ve come across this axiom, “to whom has been given, more will be given” in both Mark and Matthew. Once again, what we have here is a point where M&M agree, and Luke goes his own way. Once again, it seems that Luke has taken a story, or a pericope, that is adequately covered by his predecessors and changed it to make it his own. It must be noted that this almost always happens when Mark and Matthew not only agree, but are almost verbatim–unless Matthew has chosen to elaborate. So we have another example. So I ask you, is it reasonable to conclude that Luke did not read Matthew?
41 Ait autem Petrus: “ Domine, ad nos dicis hanc parabolam an et ad omnes? ”.
42 Et dixit Dominus: “ Quis putas est fidelis dispensator et prudens, quem constituet dominus super familiam suam, ut det illis in tempore tritici mensuram?
43 Beatus ille servus, quem, cum venerit dominus eius, invenerit ita facientem.
44 Vere dico vobis: Supra omnia, quae possidet, constituet illum.
41 Ait autem Petrus: “ Domine, ad nos dicis hanc parabolam an et ad omnes? ”.
42 Et dixit Dominus: “ Quis putas est fidelis dispensator et prudens, quem constituet dominus super familiam suam, ut det illis in tempore tritici mensuram?
43 Beatus ille servus, quem, cum venerit dominus eius, invenerit ita facientem.
44 Vere dico vobis: Supra omnia, quae possidet, constituet illum.
45 Quod si dixerit servus ille in corde suo: “Moram facit dominus meus venire”, et coeperit percutere pueros et ancillas et edere et bibere et inebriari,
46 veniet dominus servi illius in die, qua non sperat, et hora, qua nescit, et dividet eum partemque eius cum infidelibus ponet.
47 Ille autem servus, qui cognovit voluntatem domini sui et non praeparavit vel non fecit secundum voluntatem eius, vapulabit multis;
48 qui autem non cognovit et fecit digna plagis, vapulabit paucis. Omni autem, cui multum datum est, multum quaeretur ab eo; et cui commendaverunt multum, plus petent ab eo.