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Luke Chapter 22:54-65

Jesus has been arrested and is on his way to see Caiaphas. This section is actually two short pieces: Peter’s Denial, and then Jesus and the Soldiers. Should be quick, but famous last words.

Text

54 Συλλαβόντες δὲ αὐτὸν ἤγαγον καὶ εἰσήγαγον εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν τοῦ ἀρχιερέως: ὁ δὲ Πέτρος ἠκολούθει μακρόθεν.

55 περιαψάντων δὲ πῦρ ἐν μέσῳ τῆς αὐλῆς καὶ συγκαθισάντων ἐκάθητο ὁ Πέτρος μέσος αὐτῶν.

56 ἰδοῦσα δὲ αὐτὸν παιδίσκη τις καθήμενον πρὸς τὸ φῶς καὶ ἀτενίσασα αὐτῷ εἶπεν, Καὶ οὗτος σὺν αὐτῷ ἦν:

57 ὁ δὲ ἠρνήσατο λέγων, Οὐκ οἶδα αὐτόν, γύναι.

58 καὶ μετὰ βραχὺ ἕτερος ἰδὼν αὐτὸν ἔφη, Καὶ σὺ ἐξ αὐτῶν εἶ: ὁ δὲ Πέτρος ἔφη, Ἄνθρωπε, οὐκ εἰμί.

59 καὶ διαστάσης ὡσεὶ ὥρας μιᾶς ἄλλος τις διϊσχυρίζετο λέγων, Ἐπ’ ἀληθείας καὶ οὗτος μετ’ αὐτοῦ ἦν, καὶ γὰρ Γαλιλαῖός ἐστιν:

60 εἶπεν δὲ ὁ Πέτρος, Ἄνθρωπε, οὐκ οἶδα ὃ λέγεις. καὶ παραχρῆμα ἔτι λαλοῦντος αὐτοῦ ἐφώνησεν ἀλέκτωρ.

Taking him along with them, they led and took him to the home of the Chief Priest. Peter follow at some distance. (55) Having lighted a fire in the middle of the courtyard and (some unspecified persons, likely slaves or attendants to the Chief Priest) were sitting together around it, and Peter sat in the middle of them. (56) Seeing him, some young female slave sitting near the light and looked intently at him (and) said, “And you were with him”. (57) And he answered saying, “I don’t know him, woman”. (58) And after a bit another seeing him said, “And you are of them”. But Peter said, “Man, I am not”. (59) And having progressed about an hour, some other asserted strongly saying, “In truth, you were with him. for you are also Galilean”. (60) But Peter said, “Dude, I do not know what you say.” And immediately upon (his) speaking, the cock sounded off (crowed).

A few good points. The residences of officials, or important/wealthy persons were often constructed about an open courtyard. The feature is a common one in the Mediterranean to this day. The Greek version was called a megaron, and included a portico running around it. In hot, dry climates, being in the shade can cut the temperature remarkably. Shade, coupled with stone buildings can keep the temperature quite pleasant. This is why they sat in the Stoa–literally, a porch, a colonnade on a marble building–in Athens. Hence, the philosophical school of the Stoics. Anyway, it is in such an open courtyard that Peter finds himself. The people gathered by the fire are most likely attached to the chief priest’s household in some serving capacity. Recalling the Roman centurion who asked Jesus to heal his boy/slave (pais), the first to speak was a paidiskē. The Greek word declines pais, paidos, meaning that the nominative case ends with the -s-, but the stem is formed with a -d-. So paidiskē is more or less the feminine form of pais; which, although can mean either male or female child, generally referred to a male unless otherwise stated. The definition states that a paidiskē was specifically a young female slave.  One translation of the word is “maid”. Now, in English, this word is ambiguous; it can mean maid, as in scullery maid, a servant, or it can mean a maiden, a young girl/woman, who was presumably a virgin in the English term. Most of that ambiguity is contained in the Greek as well, but note Peter refers to her as “woman”. But the adjectives “male/female” were not generally used as substantives, as nouns, the way they are in English, so “woman” has to substitute for “female-in-general”. It is also the standard term for “wife”, just as andros, “man”, is the standard term for husband. The point of all this is to reinforce that the centurion was almost certainly asking Jesus to heal a slave and not his child.

The other aspect is to wonder how she would have known Peter was with Jesus. Per the narrative, Jesus was brought in and Peter followed at a distance; ergo, to have seen them together, the woman almost necessarily would have been with the band that went out to arrest him. This strikes me as at least a bit odd. Why would a posse include a female slave? Probably it didn’t; however, it’s not out of the question that she sort of tagged along to catch the excitement. This is certainly a common-enough thing for people to do once their curiosity is piqued. But then you have to ask, as one of the hangers-on, how close would she have been to the central action, to Jesus. Recall, this is night, and there were no streetlights, so the only illumination would be the torches carried by the posse. (And perhaps by Jesus’ group as well? I had never thought that one through.) Torches also flicker, but a half-dozen or so would provide a fairly consistent light to eliminate the flicker to some degree. That leads to the question of how large was the circle of illumination? Enough to show Jesus, and Judas, and those carrying the torches. These latter would have been in the group composing the posse. Where was Peter? Was he right behind Jesus? Was he the one who drew the sword? I ask because we have to wonder how well his face would have been illuminated. Was it to the point that someone maybe twenty or thirty feet away would have gotten a good look at him? Why would anyone notice Peter, in particular? Wouldn’t most eyes be focused on Jesus and Judas? It’s not out of the question, but if she were a witness for the prosecution, and I were Peter’s defense attorney, these are exactly the sorts of questions I’d use to grill her for her reliability. I can imagine that the men were more apt to be close to the action. The first could have been one of the torch bearers, so he could much more easily have seen Peter’s face. So why didn’t he recognize Peter before the woman? It says he spoke after a short time. Had he been studying Peter’s visage in the meantime? The second man only spoke after an hour. I can suppose that he had been doing some duty and only came into the fire later, which would account for the time lag. But still.

This is a great story, with a great moral. It’s dramatic. It shows the human side of Peter. But is it realistic? What is the likelihood that it could have happened? Then, combine that with the probability that it did happen. It’s a complex act, so the probability of could & did both occurring shrinks significantly. And who told the story? Did Peter ‘fess up to Mark, where we first encountered this? And remember, Mark was not a huge fan of the disciples as a group, and often was not impressed with Peter in particular. Had Peter told Mark, the latter would doubtless have included it. But recall that there is a significant–but apparently decreasing–consensus that the Passion Narrative predated Mark. Was this part included in that narrative? Why would it have been? Once again, let ‘s go back to the Arthur legend, and the way episodes got tacked on as time passed. We saw it in Luke with the stories of the Widow of Nain, and Zaccheus. Did this get tacked on to that primordial Passion Narrative at a later date? Perhaps by Mark, who added it as yet another dig at Peter? After all, there is the lovely contrast between Peter’s bravado at supper, and his lack of spine here. Has anyone ever questioned the probability of this episode? After all, it took me until the third iteration before it occurred to me to question it, and even then it wasn’t until I was in the middle of the translation that the thought popped into my head. We get all sorts of caveats from biblical scholars that the gospels aren’t history or biography– JD Crossan did exactly that at the beginning of The Birth of Christianity–but immediately the caveat is uttered, it’s forgotten and we’re treating every word in the gospel as an historical account–and a reliable historical account.

The questions have to be asked if we are to have any confidence that we have any clue about what happened. To the best of my knowledge, they have not been asked. 

54 Comprehendentes autem eum, duxerunt et introduxerunt in domum principis sacerdotum. Petrus vero sequebatur a longe.

55 Accenso autem igni in medio atrio et circumsedentibus illis, sedebat Petrus in medio eorum.

56 Quem cum vidisset ancilla quaedam sedentem ad lumen et eum fuisset intuita, dixit:

57 “Et hic cum illo erat!”. At ille negavit eum dicens:

58 “Mulier, non novi illum!”. Et post pusillum alius videns eum dixit: “Et tu de illis es!”. Petrus vero ait: “O homo, non sum!”.

59 Et intervallo facto quasi horae unius, alius quidam affirmabat dicens: “Vere et hic cum illo erat, nam et Galilaeus est!”.

60 Et ait Petrus: “Homo, nescio quid dicis!”. Et continuo adhuc illo loquente cantavit gallus.

61 καὶ στραφεὶς ὁ κύριος ἐνέβλεψεν τῷ Πέτρῳ, 

And the lord turned and looked at Peter

What!?!? I stopped where I did above because that was the end of the story. Or, it’s the end of the story in the other two. Here is a great example of what I was talking about in the previous comment. Even if we didn’t have the other two versions, as soon as we hit this verse I would have been completely skeptical. The logistics of this are virtually impossible, and simply fails the reasonableness test. It completely demolishes credibility, or my credulity, that this could happen. Peter followed at a distance, but when he caught up, Jesus is still in the courtyard? And he’s still there an hour later when the third accuser of Peter shows up? No, it’s just not at all reasonable. But, given the other two, whether we believe this as credible or not doesn’t matter. Here, I think, is another instance where Luke felt safe to throw in a curve ball because there are two other versions of the story. This is, I think, a great insight into the redactional strategy, or approach. He clarifies. He augments. He corrects. He abbreviates when a full version is not required because it’s ground that has been well-trodden by his predecessors. And this is a big reason I believe that Luke was indeed fully aware of Matthew. The so-called Q Material is a part of, but only a part of the overall question. Why Luke did or didn’t change stuff from Q doesn’t begin to address, let alone solve, whether Luke was aware of Matthew. And besides, the idea that we can actually know what Q said is simply preposterous on its face. How can we know what the original version of a non-existent document said? It’s like arguing that all unicorns were white until some became silver. Really.  No, the question is much bigger, and more complex than the handling, or mishandling of stuff that didn’t exist independently of Matthew. There is so much other stuff in the texts of the two or three gospels that needs to be examined. Like, why does Luke go long when Matthew goes short, and vice-versa?

61 καὶ στραφεὶς ὁ κύριος ἐνέβλεψεν τῷ Πέτρῳ, καὶ ὑπεμνήσθη ὁ Πέτρος τοῦ ῥήματος τοῦ κυρίου ὡς εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὅτι Πρὶν ἀλέκτορα φωνῆσαι σήμερον ἀπαρνήσῃ με τρίς:

62 καὶ ἐξελθὼν ἔξω ἔκλαυσεν πικρῶς.

And the lord turned and looked at Peter, and Peter remembered the words (speech) of the lord as he said to him that, ‘Before the cock crows today you will deny me three times.” (62) And going outside he wept bitterly.

61 Et conversus Dominus respexit Petrum; et recordatus est Petrus verbi Domini, sicut dixit ei: “ Priusquam gallus cantet hodie, ter me negabis”.

62 Et egressus foras flevit amare.

This part is pretty much standard. Or is it? Even though the whole scenario beggars belief, we have to admit that the dramatic flair is very, well, dramatic. Can’t you envision? Peter looks at Jesus, who, of course, knows that Peter will do this. The make eye contact. Jesus’ expression anguished, and weary, and understanding, and yet forgiving. He is anguished that Peter has done this, he is anguished because he knows the anguish Peter is experiencing as he realizes what he has done. Jesus is weary, because, once again, fallible humans have proven to be so fallible. He is understanding because he understands that Peter is fallible, and human, and is torn with remorse over what he has done. And yet, Jesus is forgiving. Because, after all, he is Jesus. Look at what Luke got across in a few words. It’s powerful stuff, and you wonder why I consider Luke a novelist. 

But here is a funny point. The word << πικρῶς >>.  It occurs exactly twice. Here, and in Matthew 26:75. There, Matthew says that Peter went out “and wept bitterly”. The KJV translates Luke’s version as “he wept bitterly”. Well isn’t that just the darnedest thing?  A two-nique (like “unique”, but there are only two examples) word, used only by Matthew and Luke, in exactly the same way, in exactly the same point in the narrative in exactly the same words: << ἔξω ἔκλαυσεν πικρῶς >>. Those three words occur in exactly that order in both Matthew and Luke. But, the Passion Narrative is not part of Q. Huh. Quite the coincidence, no? This is what is called a “minor agreement”, wherein Matthew and Luke do pretty much what they do here. The degree of exactness may not be quite as high–it’s absolutely exact–as it is here, but pretty darn close. Actually, we’re coming up on another of these, when Jesus is in being “interrogated” by the guards. This one, however, seems to fly under the radar for the most part. I don’t recall ever having run across a reference to this one. Funny, that. Why on earth would the Q people conveniently overlook an exact word-for-word overlap? Except it’s worse than that. They usually manage to acknowledge the “minor agreements”, but I cannot recall what their explanation for these is. Later homogenization in scriptoria, where the mss were copied by hand all those centuries? Honestly, I don’t know. I do know that in The Birth of Christianity, JD Crossan brings up the topic of the minor agreements, but dismisses them with a breezy, now’s not the time to get into that (paraphrase), and that’s the last we hear of them so we can get on to a whole raft of suppositions and unsupported inferences that lead to conclusions that are accepted, even though they’ve scarcely been argued, let alone shown to be persuasive.   

63 Καὶ οἱ ἄνδρες οἱ συνέχοντες αὐτὸν ἐνέπαιζον αὐτῷ δέροντες,

64 καὶ περικαλύψαντες αὐτὸν ἐπηρώτων λέγοντες, Προφήτευσον, τίς ἐστιν ὁ παίσας σε;

65 καὶ ἕτερα πολλα βλασφημοῦντες ἔλεγον εἰς αὐτόν. 

And the men holding him, beating (him) mocked (him), (64) and blindfolding him they demanded, saying, “Prophesy! Who is the one striking you?” (65) And blaspheming many other ways they spoke to him.

This is actually the other minor agreement I mentioned above. Mark has the soldiers demand that Jesus prophesy; both Matthew and Luke have the soldiers demand that Jesus prophesy, but both also add, << τίς ἐστιν ὁ παίσας σε;>>. Again it’s a verbatim quote. Apparently, the cause for these minor agreements is the existence of yet another unfound, uncited, unquoted, never-alluded-to text of Ur-Mark, or proto-Mark. Or they are just coincidence. Or they are just Matthew and Luke adapting Mark at exactly the same place using exactly the same words. Long story short: they can’t explain, and they don’t particularly feel the need to. Everybody knows that Q existed, so why won’t these whiners (like me) just shut up and go away and let them live in their land of make-believe?

Seriously, at some point I have to stop being a guy with a blog and start acting more like an actual scholar by behaving like a grown-up. At some point, I will. At some, as yet undetermined point. In the future.

One final thing. The whole episode is yet another example of Luke abridging a story that was fully told by both of his predecessors. 

63 Et viri, qui tenebant illum, illudebant ei caedentes;

64 et velaverunt eum et interrogabant eum dicentes: “Prophetiza: Quis est, qui te percussit?”.

65 Et alia multa blasphemantes dicebant in eum.

Luke Chapter 22:21-30

We’re still in the middle of the Lord’s/Last Supper. Jesus has dedicated the bread and wine as his body and blood. The section is fairly long, so had to make some less-than-graceful breaks. We actually broke in mid-speech of Jesus. Not exactly elegant, but the previous post had gotten too long to continue. And this is a very long chapter.

Text

21 πλὴν ἰδοὺ ἡ χεὶρ τοῦ παραδιδόντος με μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐπὶ τῆς τραπέζης:

22 ὅτι ὁ υἱὸς μὲν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου κατὰ τὸ ὡρισμένον πορεύεται, πλὴν οὐαὶ τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἐκείνῳ δι’ οὗ παραδίδοται.

“Except behold, the hand of the one handing me over is with me at the table. (22) That the son of man according to having been ordained (has)to pass through, except woe to that man through whom he is betrayed.”  

The word is, literally, handed over. One can use the term in a neutral context, as in, the merchants handed over the merchandise once payment was made. In English, the word “betrayed” is not a synonym for “handed over” in this example. This is yet another good example of linguistic fields. All of my crib translations choose “betrayed”, and one can argue that “handed over” is too weak an too neutral in this context. That would be a legitimate point because “betrayed” is a legitimate meaning in Greek; however, the word also means “hand over” as for justice. So the word has both positive and negative connotations in Greek, whereas “betrayed” is wholly negative. I don’t particularly like how I handled “according to having been ordained…” The “ordained part is a participle. Using a substantive like “according to destiny” is too neutral. “Destiny” is an abstract concept; the participle form of the verb here imparts a sense of action. Someone/something has done the ordaining.

And this is an interesting thought. All the crib translations go with a verb form: it has been decreed/determined/etc. By whom? By the Father? Mark and Matthew state that the Son of Man is to go because it was written. This has all the trappings of Fate. It was written in the Scriptures; it was written in the stars. What is the effective difference? The whole debate about Fate vs Free Will is fraught with problems. Christians sort of invented the idea of Free Will as a weapon against pagan fatalism; even Zeus, at times, was not able to resist Fate, but given his desire to save Hector’s life in contravention of Hector’s fate, the implication is that Zeus could do so if he so chose. The other gods, however, would not hear of this, and so Hector died by the hand of Achilles. So even the Greeks were conflicted about this. It goes back to the debate about Predestination: it’s an ineluctable conclusion if one posits an omnipotent and omniscient deity. Otherwise, one is compelled to concede that the deity can be surprised at the outcome of an event, and few Christians are willing to admit this point, even if they cavil at accepting Calvin’s thesis of Double Predestination, by which some people are born with no way to avoid damnation when they die. So here, Jesus must go, he must pass through the trial to come. Which brings us back to Judas: could he have done otherwise? If he had no choice, it was because God determined he was to be the one to betray Jesus. If he was wholly incapable of doing otherwise, does he deserve damnation? If you say “yes”, then why? Is a cat guilty for killing a young bird? This is what cats do. Grasping the nettle of this debate is something very few people will do. Most will hold what are essentially mutually exclusive ideas: an omniscient God being somehow compatible with Free Will. This is positing A and Not-A, combining matter and antimatter. This is why I have a sneaking admiration for Calvin: agree or disagree with him, you have to give him props for bravery. He wasn’t afraid to take on the challenge.

21 Verumtamen ecce manus tradentis me mecum est in mensa;

22 et quidem Filius hominis, secundum quod definitum est, vadit; verumtamen vae illi homini, per quem traditur!”.

23 καὶ αὐτοὶ ἤρξαντο συζητεῖν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς τὸ τίς ἄρα εἴη ἐξ αὐτῶν ὁ τοῦτο μέλλων πράσσειν.

24 Ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ φιλονεικία ἐν αὐτοῖς, τὸ τίς αὐτῶν δοκεῖ εἶναι μείζων.

25 ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Οἱ βασιλεῖς τῶν ἐθνῶν κυριεύουσιν αὐτῶν καὶ οἱ ἐξουσιάζοντες αὐτῶν εὐεργέται καλοῦνται.

And they began to discuss amongst themselves who would be from the the one destined to be successful. (24) And strife came into being among them, which one of them seemed to be the greatest. (25) And he said to them, “The kings of the peoples lord it over (those) of theirs, and those exercising authority over them are called go-gooders. 

Want to stop to make few points. “Do gooders” is a literal translation. The transliteration is Euergetes, and it was an epithet, or surname for some of the Hellenistic kings. Ptolemy Euergetes, Ptolemy the One Who Does Good, Ptolemy the Benefactor. Other such epithets were Epiphanes (God Manifest), Soter (Saviour), and there was at least one Ptolemy Auletes, the Flute Player. Some of Charlemagne’s successors were Charles the Bald, Louis the Fat; and his name was Charles le Magne, Karl der Grosser, or simply Charles the Great. 

The word <<κυριεύουσιν>> is used by Luke and by Paul. That seemed likely to be significant until I checked this story in Mark and Matthew. They both add the prefix  <<κατὰ>>, so it becomes<<κατὰ-κυριεύουσιν>>. The prefix adds the sense of exercising authority downwards, that the lord is up above and throwing out orders to those below him. And the verb derives from kyrios, which is “Lord”. Anyone with any kind of background in, or knowledge of, Latin High Masses is familiar with the vocative case of this, which comes out as kyrie, as in kyrie eleison, “lord have mercy”, repeated thrice. If you check the libretto of any of the High Masses written by Bach or Mozart, this is called the Kyrie; in the Book of Common Prayer, I’ve seen it labeled the Trisagion, a reference to being repeated three times. So “lord it over” is not entirely a whimsical translation. “Play the lord”, or “exercise authority/lordship” would work, too. The NASB follows my lead and actually reads “lord it over”. That works here, because the term is more than slightly derogatory, said with a sniff of contempt, and Jesus obviously (IMO) doesn’t approve of this sort of behaviour. 

The big thing here is the placement of the story. Both Mark and Matthew put this story on the road to Jerusalem after the Transfiguration and before Palm Sunday. For some reason that I do not quite understand, the placement of stories– excuse me, pericopae (really, it should be perokopai)– by Luke plays a big role in the Q debate. I read the passage disparaging Luke’s placement, think I understand the point, but comprehension melts away by the time I turn the page. As near as I can tell, it has to do with the fact that, since Luke didn’t copy Matthew exactly, down to every iota, then Luke was obviously not aware of Matthew because, if he had been aware of Matthew, he would not have changer an iota. Because Matthew’s handling of any and all pericopae is obviously superior, to the point of infallibility. Or something. And then Q-doubters are expected– nay, required— to produce a “redactionally consistent” explanation for every time Luke varies from Matthew by that single iota. And somehow, I expect “Luke varied from Matthew because he was Luke and not Matthew” would not be satisfactory, even though it’s consistent and works in every case. Look, I will admit that this placement feels a bit awkward and a bit forced, but IMO a lot of the Sermon on the Mount feels a bit like it’s been stitched together with bubble-gum and binder twine.Apparently, it has never occurred to the Q people that Luke chose a different spot just to be different. Shake it up a bit. Otherwise, you get a derivative drone of a narrative. Honestly, not a lot more to be said. Luke changed the location of this story; it’s in a different place than in M&M, where each situates it in approximately the same location. That’s it.

23 Et ipsi coeperunt quaerere inter se, quis esset ex eis, qui hoc facturus esset.

24 Facta est autem et contentio inter eos, quis eorum videretur esse maior.

25 Dixit autem eis: “ Reges gentium dominantur eorum; et, qui potestatem habent super eos, benefici vocantur.

26 ὑμεῖς δὲ οὐχ οὕτως, ἀλλ’ ὁ μείζων ἐν ὑμῖν γινέσθω ὡς ὁ νεώτερος, καὶ ὁ ἡγούμενος ὡς ὁ διακονῶν.

27 τίς γὰρ μείζων, ὁ ἀνακείμενος ἢ ὁ διακονῶν; οὐχὶ ὁ ἀνακείμενος; ἐγὼ δὲ ἐν μέσῳ ὑμῶν εἰμι ὡς ὁ διακονῶν.

28 ὑμεῖς δέ ἐστε οἱ διαμεμενηκότες μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐν τοῖς πειρασμοῖς μου:

29 κἀγὼ διατίθεμαι ὑμῖν καθὼς διέθετό μοι ὁ πατήρ μου βασιλείαν

30 ἵνα ἔσθητε καὶ πίνητε ἐπὶ τῆς τραπέζης μου ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ μου, καὶ καθήσεσθε ἐπὶ θρόνων τὰς δώδεκα φυλὰς κρίνοντες τοῦ Ἰσραήλ. 

“But you (are) not like this, but the greatest amongst you becomes as the newest, and the leader as the ministrant. (27) For who (is) the greatest, the one reclining at the table or the deacon? Who is the one reclining? I in your midst (am) as the deacon. (28) You are those having remained with me in my trials. (29) And I distribute to you accordingly as my father distributed the kingdom to me (30) so that you will be be drinking at my table in my kingdom, and you will be seated upon twelve thrones judging the tribes of Israel.”

The Twelve Thrones judging the Twelve Tribes of Israel occurs in Matthew 19:28. It does not occur in Mark. Kloppenborg includes this in his Reconstructed Q. Here’s a question: what happens if Jesus didn’t actually institute a Band of Twelve? What if the Twelve only came about after Jesus’ death? We’ve discussed this; the Twelve really only figure in two different stories: when they are named, and when they are sent out, and return more or less immediately. John has two names that don’t occur in the lists of the other evangelists; that is usually a red flag that the names varied because the names were not really known because they hadn’t been established by Jesus. Paul mentions the Twelve; they existed in his time. But prior? I’m not at all convinced of that. Which means, if there was no Twelve, then the reference here and in Matthew 19 is essentially fraudulent, made up after the fact. Which means that it probably wasn’t in Q, or shouldn’t have been in Q, because Jesus never said this. If it was in a Q that actually existed, then that Q is fraudulent, or at least heinously misleading because Jesus never said it. That sort of blows a big hole in the credibility of this hypothetical document, even if it did ever exist, which I doubt. There are lots of reasons to disbelieve in Q, and this is another one.

A bit of vocabulary: the word translated as “ministrant” in verse 26 transliterates as “diakonōn”. This is readily recogniseable as the root of “deacon”. In Greek, this means “to minister to”, or “to serve”. So I translated it one, then more or less transliterated it the remaining instances to get across the connexion between the Greek and our word in English. We need to be made aware that “diakonōn” does not refer to an official in the Catholic or Anglican/Episcopalian/or other? Rite. It means “to serve”. 

Is this a bit of a tell*? “You are the ones having remained…” My crib translations all put their verb in the perfect tense: have remained, have stayed, have stood, have continued. Hearing this tense used in conversation, the sense imparted is an action that occurred in the past. It has been “perfected”, which means “completed”. This is why the Greek word for “end” in philosophical-religious contexts often or usually means “perfected”. So, the perfect tense implies a completed action. And just to be clear, this neither the pluperfect (had) nor the future (will have had) perfect. It’s the simple perfect. So when Jesus says “you having remained” he is referring to the past, which means that his trials are completed. This seems an odd thing to say given that he’s about to undergo some horrific torture in the next 12-18 hours. In other words, this is the statement of someone who’s looking backwards on events that have not occurred in the narrative. That is to say, Jesus is not uttering these words; the author Luke is uttering these words, from the vantage point of 50 years in the future from the moment he is recounting. Hence, this becomes a tell that Jesus did not say these words. And if Jesus did not say these words, which others did he not speak? The bit about the Twelve, perhaps? 

In any case, this is one of the times when verb tense matters. Frankly, there have not been that many of them, but they occur.

*For non-poker players, a ‘tell’ is a quirk, or a twitch, or an habitual expression or motion that gives away the emotions of one of the players. It is often as simple as raising eyebrows when viewing a good hand. This little quirk “tells” other players at the table that s/he has good cards, so maybe don’t be too proud of your own hand. Of course, the term need not be specific to poker; it can be adapted to any number of circumstances where someone gives away sensitive information without intending to do so. A courtroom trial would be another good example, if the witness doesn’t make eye contact with the opposing attorney, which may indicate the witness is lying.

26 Vos autem non sic, sed qui maior est in vobis, fiat sicut iunior; et, qui praecessor est, sicut ministrator.

27 Nam quis maior est: qui recumbit, an qui ministrat? Nonne qui recumbit? Ego autem in medio vestrum sum, sicut qui ministrat.

28 Vos autem estis, qui permansistis mecum in tentationibus meis;

29 et ego dispono vobis, sicut disposuit mihi Pater meus regnum,

30 ut edatis et bibatis super mensam meam in regno meo et sedeatis super thronos iudicantes duodecim tribus Israel.

Luke Chapter 22:14-20

The final verse from the previous post is included here again to provide context and continuity. We are at the Last Supper, or Lord’s Supper as it seems now to be generally called. This is one of the few times we can bring in Paul as a comparison text, since he describes the words of Jesus in 1 Corinthians, and of course some version is found in the other three gospels. Paul’s inclusion of the event is extremely significant for a couple of reasons, First, it’s one of a very few times when Paul actually describes something Jesus did while he was alive. Secondly, I believe this makes it one of the very few incidents in Jesus’ life that we can say is independently corroborated. There is virtually no one who claims, or even suggests, that Mark was aware of Paul when he wrote his gospel so this gives two sources for which a reasonable argument can be mounted were truly independent. The other three gospels, however, all depend on Mark; even Q does not eliminate the dependence of Matthew and Luke on Mark to some degree. Q, of course, would/could/should be considered an independent source, but only if it actually existed. Since it (almost certainly) did not, all the gospels derive from Mark. Of course, each includes material not found in any of the others. This unique material may derive from other written sources that have since disappeared, from oral traditions that were correspondingly unique to each author, or the material may have been created by that particular author. This latter possibility is almost never discussed, or even suggested, which strikes me as academic negligence. All possibilities must be considered. Obviously, there a minimum standard of probability must be applied; there is no reasonable reason to discuss whether Jesus was actually an alien–although if evidence presented itself, then it would require consideration. But given this standard of probability, everything should be fair game, no matter how distasteful it may be. I have no doubt that suggesting any of the evangelists created material that he thought belonged, whether he had factual verification or not, whether he had an oral tradition or not, whether the tradition was reliable if one existed, would be distasteful to the large majority of biblical scholars.

Text

14 Καὶ ὅτε ἐγένετο ἡ ὥρα, ἀνέπεσεν καὶ οἱ ἀπόστολοι σὺν αὐτῷ. 

15 καὶ εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς, Ἐπιθυμίᾳ ἐπεθύμησα τοῦτο τὸ πάσχα φαγεῖν μεθ’ ὑμῶν πρὸ τοῦ με παθεῖν:

16 λέγω γὰρ ὑμῖν ὅτι οὐ μὴ φάγω αὐτὸ ἕως ὅτου πληρωθῇ ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ τοῦ θεοῦ.

And when the hour had come, he sat down and the apostles with him. (15) And he said to them, “Heartily I desire to eat this Passover with you before my suffering. (16) I say to you that I will nor eat until this (my suffering) has been fulfilled in the Kingdom of God”.

Really quick grammar point. What I have translated “my suffering” is actually the infinitive form of the verb “to suffer”. In this way Greek is able to convey the ideas of a gerund or a gerundive, for which Latin has a special form. But actually, using the verb form, almost always the infinitive, as a substantive is a very old trait in Greek.

We discussed the anachronistic use of the term “apostle” in the last segment, so no need to go over that again. Having a desirous desire to eat with the disciples is new and unique. Why is this here? Did Luke have a super-special-secret “L” source that recorded this quip of Jesus? Which written document Luke then burned after using? Or did the son of a friend of the son of a friend whose grandfather knew one of the (non-existent) apostles tell Luke the story? Seriously, that is what we are talking about here. It’s wildly anachronistic and even more improbable that one of the attendants of the supper was taking notes that were written up the next morning. So what we have somebody told somebody who told somebody…who knew Luke and told Luke. That is exactly what our chain of evidence looks like, spread out over fifty or sixty years. Yes, pre-literate societies have people with remarkable memories who can memorize The Iliad and The Odyssey; but this fails to recognize that any stories of Jesus were heard by a bunch of people who were not particularly trained in mnemonic techniques, who then went home and told their family and the neighbors, none of whom were trained in memorization, and the stories spread like gossip.

Or Luke thought this was a nice touch and added it himself.

The significant part of this bit is the last verse. We found this, more or less, in both Mark and Matthew, but it is absent from Paul. What, if anything, does that mean? What are we to make of this? Did Paul know about this and leave it out? And Mark and Luke refer to it as the Kingdom of God; Matthew refers to it as the Kingdom of my Father. Was Matthew wrong? Did he have a source that Mark’s version was incorrect, which led Matthew astray? Then recall that Matthew tended to prefer “kingdom of the heavens” to “kingdom of God”, so does that blow a hole in Matthew’s overall credibility? But what does the line even mean, anyway? Well, it’s a bit of prophesy, Jesus telling those assembled that he was having his last meal on earth. Which brings us to another point about Paul. Of the four we have read so far (excluding John), Paul alone tells us that the meal was instituted by Jesus on the night he was betrayed. This tastes a bit like high drama, but the fact is that we know Jesus was executed, but the act of betrayal takes this to a whole other level. Naturally, the betrayal of Judas plays a prominent role in the Passion Narrative, so we have to take that part quite seriously. I am of the opinion that the Passion Narrative was a later addition to the saga of Jesus (and was possibly commissioned by Mary Magdalene who first appears at the foot of the cross and then is prominent for the rest of the story).

Now, we must be very clear that corroboration of a detail of the Passion Narrative, or any part of the gospel, the NT, or the Bible as a whole is just exactly that: corroboration of a detail. From that, it does not follow that we can infer anything else in the narrative, except things which can be deduced directly from the act of betrayal. The point is that just because we know Jesus was handed over by someone, we do not know either the motivation or the charges. I would be willing to accept that an exchange of money took place, but, then again, the “betrayer” may have agreed to save his own skin. It must be conceded that we can see the outline of the eventual “official” view of the Passion starting to take form, but remember that I said an exchange of money, or avoidance of duress, would be easy to accept. This is not to say that either occurred; there is no shred of contemporary evidence for this. It must also be conceded that we could detect the echo of the “official” Passion Narrative in Paul; he may have been sufficiently aware of the narrative that he referred to it in an offhand manner here. Indeed, that Paul says nothing more could easily be an indication that he felt no need to say more because the story well-known. This seriously undercuts my position, but it’s an objection that I need to address if my argument is to carry any weight. 

14 Et cum facta esset hora, discubuit, et apostoli cum eo.

15 Et ait illis: “ Desiderio desideravi hoc Pascha manducare vobiscum, antequam patiar.

16 Dico enim vobis: Non manducabo illud, donec impleatur in regno Dei ”.

17 καὶ δεξάμενος ποτήριον εὐχαριστήσας εἶπεν, Λάβετε τοῦτο καὶ διαμερίσατε εἰς ἑαυτούς:

18 λέγω γὰρ ὑμῖν [ὅτι] οὐ μὴ πίω ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν ἀπὸ τοῦ γενήματος τῆς ἀμπέλου ἕως οὗ ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ ἔλθῃ.

And taking/receiving the cup giving thanks, he said, “Take this and share it amongst you. (18) For I say to you that I will not drink from the fruit of the vine until the Kingdom of God may come.

Note that Jesus merely sharing the bread and the cup and saying he shall neither eat nor drink until the arrival of the Kingdom of God. We do not entirely know what is meant by the term, “Kingdom of God”. Our lack of knowledge on the topic is largely due to the fact that the term is not used consistently in any one sense. Also, the term develops over time, and across gospels, and even within gospels. We had an instance a few chapters ago when the term kingdom was very obviously synonymous with the standard Christian concept of “heaven” or whatever you wish to call it. (And note that the term ‘heaven’ is also very problematic; the term that gets translated as singular ‘heaven’ could also be rendered just as accurately by ‘sky’.) In any case, it bears repeating that the idea that the Kingdom of God would be here on earth was the standard Jewish understanding (I believe…). Even though Jewish thought was moving towards the idea of a “heavenly” kingdom more like the Christian conception, there are sources contemporary with Jesus, or even a bit later, that still conceive of the Kingdom as coming into being on this earth. It will be idealized, of course, but it’s still thought of as a material, physical place and not the disembodied spiritual existence that is standard Christian thinking. This is largely because Christians absorbed a lot of Greek ideas on the subject, and for the Greeks, the afterlife was decidedly non-material. And note that the kingdom ‘may come’; we don’t die and go there, but it comes, presumably to us. “Thy kingdom come”, after all. So it’s still decidedly ambiguous despite the tendency to read backwards into every word in the NT.

17 Et accepto calice, gratias egit et dixit: “Accipite hoc et dividite inter vos.

18 Dico enim vobis: Non bibam amodo de generatione vitis, donec regnum Dei veniat”.

19 καὶ λαβὼν ἄρτον εὐχαριστήσας ἔκλασεν καὶ ἔδωκεν αὐτοῖς λέγων, Τοῦτό ἐστιν τὸ σῶμά μου τὸ ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν διδόμενον: τοῦτο ποιεῖτε εἰς τὴν ἐμὴν ἀνάμνησιν.

20 καὶ τὸ ποτήριον ὡσαύτως μετὰ τὸ δειπνῆσαι, λέγων, Τοῦτο τὸ ποτήριον ἡ καινὴ διαθήκη ἐν τῷ αἵματί μου, τὸ ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν ἐκχυννόμενον.

And taking bread, (and) giving thanks, he broke it and gave (it) to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you; do this towards my memory. (20) And likewise (taking) the cup after dinner, saying “This is the cup of the new covenant in my blood, which for you has been poured.”

Let’s think about this for a moment. Remember that 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 has very similar words about the body and blood, that it is given for them/us, and that the ritual should be done in memory of Jesus. Thematically, Luke is closest to Paul, which includes the detail of Jesus taking the cup after the meal, while Mark and Matthew do not make so clear a distinction. In one sense, it doesn’t really make that much difference, but it does indicate that Luke may have been aware of Paul’s words on the topic. As we’ve stated, Luke is the first evangelist who we can be sure was aware of Paul and his mission and his writings. At least, we can be sure if Luke and Acts are by the same individual. Regardless, these few words here indicate more than a passing familiarity with Paul on Luke’s part. 

So we know that the ideas expressed, the blood of Jesus that seals (Paul’s word) the covenant, trace back into the late 50s or early 60s, when Paul wrote. The question then becomes, when were they actually said? Or, were they actually spoken by Jesus? This is a very important question, and one that I’ve never seen asked. It is simply assumed that Jesus spoke these words which are still recited by Catholics and Anglicans/Episcopalians at the Consecration. (I can personally attest to these two; there may be other denominations that use these words. Lutherans?) But think about it. The words are, at root, prophetic, just as Jesus talking about how the Son of Man must suffer at the hands of the Nations, or that no stone of the Temple will be left on another stone. Jesus is saying these words in anticipation of what is to come: his crucifixion, when his body will be broken like the bread, and his blood will indeed be spilled, or poured out. Does this foresight not make it more likely that Jesus never actually said these words? I tend to believe this to be the case. How could the human Jesus have known what was to come? It is possible that he knew they were coming for him in a general sense, that he couldn’t escape the law much longer, so he may have been able to anticipate his horrendous death to come. And, if he was, in fact, charged as a magician, crucifixion was probably the way in which he would be executed. This had been one of the prescribed punishments for magicians since the 82 BCE, when the lex Cornelia de sicaris et veneficis was passed in Rome by Lucius Cornelius Sulla, who set himself up as dictator in Rome after some nasty particularly nasty civil strife. So there is that, but if he knew he was to be executed as a magician, why would he talk about the new covenant sealed by his blood. He wouldn’t. So, like the Pater Noster, Jesus probably never spoke the words.

But even if Jesus did not, the point is that their appearance in Paul indicates that they became part of the tradition very early on in the history of the Jesus cult. They are not, I think, the earliest words of the Jesus cult; I tend to suspect that the parable of the mustard seed may be authentic, although that will prove to be difficult to reconcile with my contention that Jesus was a magician. But then, it only is necessary that Jesus was executed as a magician; but given some of the stories in Mark, it’s hard not to entertain the idea that Jesus was considered to be a magician.

But back to the actual topic, the theme of body & blood, what does this say about how the followers were understanding Jesus’ death? The first question to ask is whether the followers really knew the reason for the execution. Of course, the earliest ones knew full well. Peter certainly knew, as did James, brother of Jesus. But did they share the facts? Or did they sugar-coat it, or smudge over it a bit? So did Paul know the reason? Based on what he said in 1 Cor 11:23-26, he is hinting at what would become the official version, since Jesus says his body is “for you”. Why should we not believe that this was, in fact, the real reason Jesus was killed? The fact remains that Jesus was killed by the Romans. This means Jesus did something that violated Roman law. Well, sedition would certainly fit the bill there, and any number of people have come to this conclusion. In my mind, if Jesus had been executed for sedition, the Romans would have rounded up several dozen of his followers, and another dozen or so perfectly innocent persons just to make sure that they had gotten the lot of them. I have raised this objection to the official version any number of times, but I find it compelling. The Romans were a lot of things: tough, competent, and thorough. One thing they were not was soft, and merciful wasn’t a desired quality among them. Look up “Manlian discipline” and you’ll find the story of a Roman consul having his son executed for disobeying an order. And this was considered a good thing. BTW, this is a great example of a story that is True, whether or not it ever happened. For, even if it’s not it’s factually accurate, this is part of the Roman Myth that they constructed about themselves. And I ask you: which is worse? Whether it happened, demonstrating a level of brutality that existed, or whether it didn’t, in which case this is what the Romans wanted to believe about themselves.

So yeah, Peter and James and everyone else would have been arrested and the lot of them would have been set up on crosses lining both sides of the main road into Jerusalem.

And Matthew adds that Jesus’ blood was shed for “forgiveness of sins”. This is a clear indication that the story about Jesus was evolving. Luke leaves this out, and so gives us the more “primitive” version of the story. Alternatively, we could say that Luke, once again, follows Mark and so “corrects” Matthew’s version. This is an aspect of Luke/Matthew/Mark that gets no discussion in the Q debate: much is made that Luke never agrees with Matthew against Mark; except of course, all the times when he does and they call it “Q”. But what about the times Luke agrees with Mark against Matthew? We’ve been pointing out those instances when Luke goes short on a story told in full by M&M, or goes long when Matthew cuts his version short. But let us move on now with the question still unanswered; this comment has gotten too long already.

19 Et accepto pane, gratias egit et fregit et dedit eis dicens: “Hoc est corpus meum, quod pro vobis datur. Hoc facite in meam commemorationem”.

20 Similiter et calicem, postquam cenavit, dicens: “ Hic calix novum testamentum est in sanguine meo, qui pro vobis funditur.

 

 

21 πλὴν ἰδοὺ ἡ χεὶρ τοῦ παραδιδόντος με μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐπὶ τῆς τραπέζης:

22 ὅτι ὁ υἱὸς μὲν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου κατὰ τὸ ὡρισμένον πορεύεται, πλὴν οὐαὶ τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἐκείνῳ δι’ οὗ παραδίδοται.

23 καὶ αὐτοὶ ἤρξαντο συζητεῖν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς τὸ τίς ἄρα εἴη ἐξ αὐτῶν ὁ τοῦτο μέλλων πράσσειν.

24 Ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ φιλονεικία ἐν αὐτοῖς, τὸ τίς αὐτῶν δοκεῖ εἶναι μείζων.

25 ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Οἱ βασιλεῖς τῶν ἐθνῶν κυριεύουσιν αὐτῶν καὶ οἱ ἐξουσιάζοντες αὐτῶν εὐεργέται καλοῦνται.

26 ὑμεῖς δὲ οὐχ οὕτως, ἀλλ’ ὁ μείζων ἐν ὑμῖν γινέσθω ὡς ὁ νεώτερος, καὶ ὁ ἡγούμενος ὡς ὁ διακονῶν.

27 τίς γὰρ μείζων, ὁ ἀνακείμενος ἢ ὁ διακονῶν; οὐχὶ ὁ ἀνακείμενος; ἐγὼ δὲ ἐν μέσῳ ὑμῶν εἰμι ὡς ὁ διακονῶν.

28 ὑμεῖς δέ ἐστε οἱ διαμεμενηκότες μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐν τοῖς πειρασμοῖς μου:

29 κἀγὼ διατίθεμαι ὑμῖν καθὼς διέθετό μοι ὁ πατήρ μου βασιλείαν

30 ἵνα ἔσθητε καὶ πίνητε ἐπὶ τῆς τραπέζης μου ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ μου, καὶ καθήσεσθε ἐπὶ θρόνων τὰς δώδεκα φυλὰς κρίνοντες τοῦ Ἰσραήλ. 

 

21 Verumtamen ecce manus tradentis me mecum est in mensa;

22 et quidem Filius hominis, secundum quod definitum est, vadit; verumtamen vae illi homini, per quem traditur! ”.

23 Et ipsi coeperunt quaerere inter se, quis esset ex eis, qui hoc facturus esset.

24 Facta est autem et contentio inter eos, quis eorum videretur esse maior.

25 Dixit autem eis: “ Reges gentium dominantur eorum; et, qui potestatem habent super eos, benefici vocantur.

26 Vos autem non sic, sed qui maior est in vobis, fiat sicut iunior; et, qui praecessor est, sicut ministrator.

27 Nam quis maior est: qui recumbit, an qui ministrat? Nonne qui recumbit? Ego autem in medio vestrum sum, sicut qui ministrat.

28 Vos autem estis, qui permansistis mecum in tentationibus meis;

29 et ego dispono vobis, sicut disposuit mihi Pater meus regnum,

30 ut edatis et bibatis super mensam meam in regno meo et sedeatis super thronos iudicantes duodecim tribus Israel.

Luke Chapter 21:25-38

This section is like the last third of the chapter, the subject still being the Little Apocalypse. Don’t think there’s much else needs to be said, so let’s have at it. Note that we pick up in the middle of Jesus speaking.

Text

25 Καὶ ἔσονται σημεῖα ἐν ἡλίῳ καὶ σελήνῃ καὶ ἄστροις, καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς συνοχὴ ἐθνῶν ἐν ἀπορίᾳ ἤχους θαλάσσης καὶ σάλου,

26 ἀποψυχόντων ἀνθρώπων ἀπὸ φόβου καὶ προσδοκίας τῶν ἐπερχομένων τῇ οἰκουμένῃ, αἱ γὰρ δυνάμεις τῶν οὐρανῶν σαλευθήσονται.

“And there will be signs in the sun and moon and stars, and upon the earth there will be anguish among the peoples in perplexity of (at) the the sound of the sea and waves, (25) (the sound) of men falling from fear and expectation (dread) of what is coming to the inhabited (Roman) world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.

 It’s interesting to note how the translation of the last sentence has changed from the KJV. There the translation was “the power of heaven will be shaken,” wherein both “power” and “heaven” are singular. The NASB and the ESV render as “the power of the heavens”, while the NIV provides us with “the powers of the heavenly bodies will be shaken”. These are very different concepts, especially if you understand the cosmology of the ancient world. “The power of heaven” is thoroughly Christian, and really does not admit any other interpretation; there is the single power in heaven–God. But of course the reflection of a few moments should tell us that this is impossible, since God cannot be shaken. And besides, the Greek reads “powers” plural. The clear implication is that there is more than one power in heaven, and no one in the First Century would have denied this multiplicity of powers. The Christian monodeity (just coined the term) had not yet been invented. That conception of God would not firmly take hold inside of orthodox Christian dogma for a few centuries, and it would take several more for this idea to be the single understanding of creation. It would only truly take hold in the Byzantine period, when all other powers had been relegated into demons and shoved down from heaven that people would talk about “the power of heaven”. Before that, the sky was full of powers; the NIV points in this direction by referring to the heavenly bodies. The sun, the moon, the planets, and the fixed stars were all considered to be powers in their own right, but this list did not begin to exhaust the powers that existed in the minds of most people. This is to say that the NIV comes closest to capturing the implications of the Greek, but even it doesn’t go far enough. This is, I suspect, due in part to the fact that the people doing these transactions have backgrounds in scriptural backgrounds who probably don’t know much about the conceptions of the universe held by pagans in the First Century. More’s the pity. This goes along with using a lexicon of NT Greek rather than the standard L&S. It’s limiting, like putting on blinders.

25 Et erunt signa in sole et luna et stellis, et super terram pressura gentium prae confusione sonitus maris et fluctuum,

26 arescentibus hominibus prae timore et exspectatione eorum, quae supervenient orbi, nam virtutes caelorum movebuntur.

27 καὶ τότε ὄψονται τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐρχόμενον ἐν νεφέλῃ μετὰ δυνάμεως καὶ δόξης πολλῆς.

28 ἀρχομένων δὲ τούτων γίνεσθαι ἀνακύψατε καὶ ἐπάρατε τὰς κεφαλὰς ὑμῶν, διότι ἐγγίζει ἡ ἀπολύτρωσις ὑμῶν.

“And then they will see the son of man coming on a cloud with much power and glory. (28) These things beginning to become rise up and lift up your heads, because your ransom/deliverance approaches”.

Everybody renders this as “redemption”, which is unfortunate. Of course, it is translated thus because the Latin word used is redemptio, so our modern word is more or less a transliteration if that is possible when the same alphabet is used in both languages. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that the Latin word was swallowed more or less whole into English. Checking the Google, we are told that the base meaning of redemption is the “action of saving or being saved from sin, error, evil, etc.” And this is usually as deep into the word as we go in this context. But recall that we can also redeem a pawn ticket. This is much closer to what both the Greek and Latin words mean. The other meaning is yet another example of a Christian veneer being overlaid, or where a word has become specialised into a theological/religious context, sort of growing a specific meaning or set of implications. Like baptism, or angel. These words do not mean what they did to the people who wrote these words down over 2,000 years ago. 

There is, of course, the Ransom Theory of salvation. This holds that it was necessary to redeem humanity by paying a ransom to Satan. This ransom was Jesus, and God fooled Satan by offering to Satan an individual–seemingly a man–who was not subject to final death, so the Resurrection broke the bonds of death. So Jesus was the Redeemer because he was the ransom. Both words imply the exchange of money for the freedom of an object (a pawn shop) or an individual. The slightest bit of thought shows all sorts of problems with this idea, but nevertheless it was the standard explanation of why Jesus had to die for about a millennium. Explaining Jesus’ death, how a son of God could be killed like anyone else, in the manner of a common criminal, was a bit of a problem for Christians for a very long time. Now that Christianity has held the field in the West for a very long time, it suffices to say, simply, “Jesus died for our sins”  and everyone is content to leave it at that. No one asks why he had to die for our sins any longer. Pagans, competing for converts, were not always willing to allow the “because” explanation, so some explanation had to be offered. From some of his epistles, it is apparent that even Paul was squeamishly defensive about this from a very early time in the development of the church.

27 Et tunc videbunt Filium hominis venientem in nube cum potestate et gloria magna.

28 His autem fieri incipientibus, respicite et levate capita vestra, quoniam appropinquat redemptio vestra”.

29 Καὶ εἶπεν παραβολὴν αὐτοῖς: Ἴδετε τὴν συκῆν καὶ πάντα τὰ δένδρα:

30 ὅταν προβάλωσιν ἤδη, βλέποντες ἀφ’ ἑαυτῶν γινώσκετε ὅτι ἤδη ἐγγὺς τὸ θέρος ἐστίν:

31 οὕτως καὶ ὑμεῖς, ὅταν ἴδητε ταῦτα γινόμενα, γινώσκετε ὅτι ἐγγύς ἐστιν ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ.

32 ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι οὐ μὴ παρέλθῃ ἡ γενεὰ αὕτη ἕως ἂν πάντα γένηται.

33 ὁ οὐρανὸς καὶ ἡ γῆ παρελεύσονται, οἱ δὲ λόγοι μου οὐ μὴ παρελεύσονται.

And he spoke a parable to them, “Behold the fig tree and all the trees. (30) When they put forth, now, seeing from itself you know now the summer is nigh. (31) And in this way, when you see these things happening, you will know the Kingdom of God is nigh. (32) Amen I say to you, that this generation will not pass away until all these things become. (33) The sky and the earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

The first thing to notice is that this is approximately where the story of the fig tree would have been placed in both Mark and Matthew, at some point during the week leading up to the crucifixion. But note that here, Jesus does not curse the fig tree, causing it to wither because he’s annoyed that it does not have fruit in the spring, rather than in the autumn. Here, the fig tree is just an example of a tree putting out its leaves as the summer is approaching. So it is worth pointing out that here we have yet another example of Luke cutting it short when it’s been sufficiently covered by both his predecessors. IOW, yet another coincidence that Luke chose to condense this particular story. For it has to be a coincidence; otherwise, Q doesn’t make sense. It’s yet more evidence that Luke was very much aware of Matthew, to the point that he planned much of the layout of his own gospel based on what Matthew said or did not say.

After that, it’s worth noting that Luke did include the bit about the earth & sky passing, but not his words. This is simple enough. Its a couple of sentences, and they bear repeating to let the audience know that Jesus’ words are to be taken as eternal. No harm there. What I did find surprising is that he repeats the bit about the current generation not passing until these things have become. Thinking about it, however, after having gone through this exercise twice already, there is no real downside to this. Jesus is predicting things that everyone knew had happened, so why shouldn’t the prediction be repeated? Everyone was aware of the destruction of Jerusalem. Everyone probably knew something of the story. And after all, this was the point of the story from the time Mark told it. There were two things about it that made it surprising: the part about “this generation” and the coming of the Son of Man. But the first is easy enough to brush aside; the people he was speaking to, at least some of them, did live to see the destruction. Since they were part of “this generation”, what Jesus said was technically correct. The generation cannot legitimately be said to have passed until the all had passed. The bit about the Son of Man is a bit trickier. Luke is a bit more vague about the timing; it’s not quite so tied to the rest of the tribulations, but he is still to come on a cloud. This has obviously not happened as Luke is telling the story. Luke doesn’t go into the details quite to the extent that Matthew did, which could be taken as a step back from the prophecy, a de-emphasis on this part of the story, but that is actually rather beside the point. The pertinent question to ask is not why Luke stepped back, but why Matthew went so far forward? While we’re at it, we might ask why Mark included the prophecy in the first place?

The answer, I think, is that we in our modern age don’t quite get it. We’re too hung up in the (wannabe)”factuals” that we miss the poetry. And an analysis such as this may be particularly prone to falling into this sort of trap, which has a certain degree of irony. After all, the purpose of this analysis is specifically designed not to consider the NT as fact, as in history, or biography. But we can fall into the trap of assuming a too-logical motivation for Luke, or any of the evangelists. They are not writing history as I insist on insisting. The point of ending the “Tale of Troubles” with the coming of the son of man is to leave the audience with the hope that the best is yet to come. Yes, the Jewish War was terrible, but Jesus foretold that, he got it correct. So if he’s foretelling this son of man coming on a cloud, then who’s to say that can’t or won’t also happen? One prophecy was fulfilled, so we can still hope that the Romans get theirs, too. (Of course, this wanders into the thorn bush that members of the audience were Roman…) Regardless, anger against injustice and oppression are always in style; the anger has remained relevant throughout human history. So the audience, which at first was, supposedly, the weak and the oppressed, was probably pleased to hear that the bad guys would get theirs in the end.

One thing to mention; this belongs to the commentary on VV 26-27, but better late than never. It should go without saying, but too often it is not said. There is nothing in here to suggest that Jesus is referring to himself when he speaks of the “son of man”. Yes, this is an oblique reference, perhaps a circumlocution, and yes, he speaks about the son of man frequently, and in contexts when it could–probably does–become self-referential. But how many of those references are things that Jesus actually said? How many were inserted into the story afterwards, a deliberate obfuscation to increase the ambiguity of the reference? I don’t know the answer to either of those questions. And lord knows that a ton of ink has been spilled explaining that this is an oblique citation of Daniel, where (to paraphrase) “one, like a son of man, will appear on a cloud…” I have not yet come across what I would consider a thorough examination of the term, of how and when it was used, and what the likelihood of a self-reference is for any given use of the term. And really, to some degree, this would depend on a thorough examination of Mark to sort out which of the stories (can’t recall the fancy term–pericopes!) have any chance of being things Jesus actually said. Offhand, my suggestions would be the Geresene Demonaic, the Parable of the Sower, and the one where he makes mud with his saliva. There are probably others, but those come readily off the top of my head. But the point is, whom did Jesus mean by the son of man? The only place to look for that answer is in Mark.

Whomever is intended, there is a connexion between the son of man and the approach of the Kingdom of God. We don’t know what exactly that connexion is, but there is a causal element to it, just as the warm weather heralds the coming of summer. Nor is it clear whether the kingdom is to be earthly or other-worldly. We discussed recently, that orthodox Jewish thought would place the kingdom on earth, on the order of a second Eden rather than the disembodied spirit world that belongs to Greek thought. And note that the son of man does not create the kingdom; rather, he is more like the harbinger, the advance guard, or perhaps Elijah. Offhand, if the kingdom is nigh as the son of man comes down on his cloud…it honestly could go either way. Christians, of course, are so accustomed to a kingdom not of this world that most would doubtless read it this way. It may be so, it may be the most likely meaning, but it really is ambiguous. Not sure how many times I’ve made this point, but it bears (constant) repetition: it is crucial to grasp just how little certainty we have about so many beliefs that are so fundamental to Christianity. Those Reformation-era Protestants swore up and down they were going back to the Bible as the source and foundations of Christian belief. In a word, they failed to do so on a lot of topics because the NT is simply too ambivalent, or even internally inconsistent to provide a firm basis for so much of what so many people believe. Let’s take my favourite theologian: Calvin. There is a basis for Predestination, but there are also conflicting sentiments expressed. In Romans 1:17, Paul declares “the just shall live by faith”, but in 2:6 he says “God will give to each (person) according to his/her works/deeds”. So there you go. And so it is here.

29 Et dixit illis similitudinem: “Videte ficulneam et omnes arbores:

30 cum iam germinaverint, videntes vosmetipsi scitis quia iam prope est aestas.

31 Ita et vos, cum videritis haec fieri, scitote quoniam prope est regnum Dei.

32 Amen dico vobis: Non praeteribit generatio haec, donec omnia fiant.

33 Caelum et terra transibunt, verba autem mea non transibunt.

34 Attendite autem vobis, ne forte graventur corda vestra in crapula et ebrietate et curis huius vitae, et superveniat in vos repentina dies illa;

34 Προσέχετε δὲ ἑαυτοῖς μήποτε βαρηθῶσιν ὑμῶν αἱ καρδίαι ἐν κραιπάλῃ καὶ μέθῃ καὶ μερίμναις βιωτικαῖς, καὶ ἐπιστῇ ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς αἰφνίδιος ἡ ἡμέρα ἐκείνη

35 ὡς παγὶς. ἐπεισελεύσεται γὰρ ἐπὶ πάντας τοὺς καθημένους ἐπὶ πρόσωπον πάσης τῆς γῆς.

36 ἀγρυπνεῖτε δὲ ἐν παντὶ καιρῷ δεόμενοι ἵνα κατισχύσητε ἐκφυγεῖν ταῦτα πάντα τὰ μέλλοντα γίνεσθαι, καὶ σταθῆναι ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου.

37*) =ην δὲ τὰς ἡμέρας ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ διδάσκων, τὰς δὲ νύκτας ἐξερχόμενος ηὐλίζετο εἰς τὸ ὄρος τὸ καλούμενον Ἐλαιῶν:

38 καὶ πᾶς ὁ λαὸς ὤρθριζεν πρὸς αὐτὸν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ ἀκούειν αὐτοῦ.

“So pray that your hearts never become weighted down in hangovers and drunkenness and lifely cares, and that day come upon upon you suddenly (35) as a snare. (These last 3 words grammatically part of Verse 34). For it will come upon all standing upon the face of the earth. (36) So be watchful in all seasons needing (usually translated: praying) in order that you overcome to flee all the things that are willing to become (that you are strong enough to overcome the trials and flee those things destined to happen), and to stand before the son of man. (37) In those days be teaching in the temple, by night you coming you must abide to the mountain called Of The Olives. (38) And (??? being morning??? the sun having risen???) all the people towards him in the temple to hear him.” 

The word ὤρθριζεν does not occur in any pagan authors. It appears exactly once in the NT, in this location. The big Liddell & Scott does not provide a translation for this base form of this particular verb. And L&S also cite only this instance of the word. The NT Lexicon of Thayer, included on the https://thebible.org/gt/index website* (which I haven’t recommended lately, but which is very handy) says that this is used in the LXX for “at dawn” or something such. It is derived from the root for “dawn”, it’s likely that the meaning lies of “at dawn” or “sun having risen” may sort of get at the meaning. And it may be pedantic of me to be so snooty about this, but the fact of the matter is, I like being pedantic. It’s part of the appeal of writing a blog like this. Anyway, as if needed, just to reinforce what we said in the comments to VV 29-33, we are way too smug about what we supposedly know about the NT. Or any ancient text, for that matter. It’s just that we are more apt to pretend to know more than we do about the NT than we are about, say, Thucydides. Regarding this author, about half of the scholarship consists of arguments about what he is actually saying.

While we’re talking about grammar, the first 3 words of Verse 35 belong with the sentence contained (mostly) in Verse 34. Have no idea what happened. Stuff like this is why I’m reluctant to venture into textual/manuscript matters; these are subjects for experts. There exists an entire realm of scholarship that one does not encounter until one goes looking for it. I have never done so.

Oh, and “praying”. The root of the word is “to lack” or “to need”. It is used to express the sentiment of compulsion, as “I need to do this”. From there, it is used, down in definition 2 II as “to beg”, from whence in the LXX and NT it becomes “to pray”. Words change, and Classicists get awfully snobby about  this from time to time. 

Other than that, there is nothing of note here. At least, there is nothing we haven’t heard numerous times in the three gospels: it’s coming, be ready. These warnings were obviously inserted well after Jesus’ death. And well after Paul wrote as well. In Galatians and 1 Thess, he’s practically looking out the window every few minutes, like a kid waiting for a ride. By the time of 1 Corinthians, the ardour of the urgency has cooled a bit. By the time of Mark, it has settled into this sort of expectation that is forgotten most of the time, the way a kid doesn’t really get impatient about her birthday until maybe the month before; the other ten months, it’s sort of there, but not often noted. Given this lackadaisical attitude, the evangelists had to keep people on their toes, expectant, ready, like the wise virgins who brought extra oil for their lamp to await the master’s return. So once again, serious evidence that this passage post-dates Jesus’ death by a long time. 

35 tamquam laqueus enim superveniet in omnes, qui sedent super faciem omnis terrae.

36 Vigilate itaque omni tempore orantes, ut possitis fugere ista omnia, quae futura sunt, et stare ante Filium hominis ”.

37 Erat autem diebus docens in templo, noctibus vero exiens morabatur in monte, qui vocatur Oliveti.

38 Et omnis populus manicabat ad eum in templo audire eum.

 

 

 

Luke Chapter 21:10-24 (with edit)

Minor edit to translation of Verse 19. Also corrected the range of the section. Originally titled 21:1-24; corrected to 21:10-24)

Added a section to the commentary of vv 16-19

This jumps us in to Jesus’ description of the hard times to come. It’s part allegory, part apocalypse, and part description of events that have already occurred. This section only deals with the tribulations; the coming of the Son of Man will occur in the next section. Between verses 9 & 10, we broke at a point where Jesus more or less paused to take a breath, so this comes hard on the heels of what happened in Verse 9, in which we were told that the end would not come immediately after people claiming to be Jesus were not to be followed. That is an interesting thought, and one that should have been discussed in the last section. The problem is that I’m not sure of the implications. Let’s hope they clarify themselves, at least by the time I write the summary of the chapter. Making this happen will, I suspect, require reading some more of Josephus. Eisenman would also help, but that was a library book and library books are not to be had currently– unless it’s available as an ebook? (PS: I’ve checked. It’s not, and that’s hardly surprising.)

Text

10 Τότε ἔλεγεν αὐτοῖς, Ἐγερθήσεται ἔθνος ἐπ’ ἔθνος καὶ βασιλεία ἐπὶ βασιλείαν,

11 σεισμοί τε μεγάλοι καὶ κατὰ τόπους λιμοὶ καὶ λοιμοὶ ἔσονται, φόβητρά τε καὶ ἀπ’ οὐρανοῦ σημεῖα μεγάλα ἔσται.

12 πρὸ δὲ τούτων πάντων ἐπιβαλοῦσιν ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῶν καὶ διώξουσιν, παραδιδόντες εἰς τὰς συναγωγὰς καὶ φυλακάς, ἀπαγομένους ἐπὶ βασιλεῖς καὶ ἡγεμόνας ἕνεκεν τοῦ ὀνόματός μου:

13 ἀποβήσεται ὑμῖν εἰς μαρτύριον.

14 θέτε οὖν ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις ὑμῶν μὴ προμελετᾶν ἀπολογηθῆναι,

15 ἐγὼ γὰρ δώσω ὑμῖν στόμα καὶ σοφίαν ἧ οὐ δυνήσονται ἀντιστῆναι ἢ ἀντειπεῖν ἅπαντες οἱ ἀντικείμενοι ὑμῖν.

Then he said to them, “People will rise against people and kingdom against kingdom, (11) there will be great earthquakes and down upon places will be plagues and famine, and there will scary things (scarecrows!) and great signs from the sky. (12) Before all this, they will throw their hands on you and chase/prosecute you, handing you over to the synagogues and guards, leading you away to the kings and rulers because of my name. (13) They will disembark you to witness. (14) So place in your hearts, do not practice your defense beforehand, (15) for I will give to your mouth and wisdom what they are not able to withstand or to gainsay all your adversaries. 

We have changed horsed in mid-stream here. Really, Verse 10 belongs more with the previous section, with its wars and disturbances. I do want to mention the people vs people. All four of my crib translations render this as “nation will rise against nation”. This concept is horribly anachronistic. The Greek word is ethnos, which is obviously the root of ethnic. The idea of ‘nation’ as we understand it will not become operative until applied to England and France around the 15th Century, a millennium and a half after this was written. The Greeks considered themselves to be of the same ethnos, but they certainly were not of the same nation. They shared a language (more or less) and a mythology and a set of cultural values, they understood themselves to be related, but politically everyone was on their own until they got incorporated in one empire or the other. Even the Latin is gens, at the root of genus; and also of Gentile, a word that I won’t use any more because it’s non-biblical. When talking about “Gentiles”, the Greek is actually “the peoples”, as in the different ethnic groups: Romans, Syrians, Parthians, Greeks, Egyptians, Ethiopians, etc. And the word used for “the peoples” is the plural form of ethnos, as used here.

From there we suddenly jump to earthquakes and signs, plagues and famines, none of which are necessarily related to wars. Granted, wars can certainly cause plagues and famines but I don’t catch an intended causal connexion; Of course. that point can be debated. The latter may arise from too many people crowded into too small a place, as happened in Athens at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, and famines if crops are destroyed or the fields go unworked. The word I translated as “scary things” is usually rendered as “terrors”, but one of the meanings is also “scarecrow”. Whatever. The intent is clear. Then the disciples are having hands laid on them and they are being chased. Rendering this as “persecuted” is a purely Christian convention. It is not used as “persecute” anywhere other than Christian writings. Now, since the word is usually used to mean “chase” or “pursue”, it’s reasonable to state that the difference between pursue and persecute is to make a difference without a distinction. Perhaps. But a hound can pursue a rabbit, but it would be difficult for the hound to persecute the rabbit. I bring this up–repeatedly–because it is crucial to recognize that much of the famous/infamous persecution of Christians in the empire took place largely in the writings of Christians. This was useful because it gave them cover when they truly were persecuting pagans. Christians destroyed temples, cut down sacred groves, and burned the Library of Alexandria. These persecutions were state-sponsored, empire-wide, and protracted over time. Persecution of Christians, by contrast, was sporadic, often local, and rarely carried on over an extended period of time. The persecutions of Diocletian deserve the name, but they were also mainly the exception. Suetonius tells us that Nero covered Christians with pitch and set them afire, using them as street lamps. However, this was Nero, it was in retribution for setting the fire of Rome, which was most certainly a trumped-up charge. But, at the same token, there was some persecution of Christians at some point soonish after the death of Jesus. This passage would not make sense otherwise. The purpose of this passage was to assure the audience that, whatever persecutions had taken place, Jesus had foreseen them and they were part of the plan, for whatever unspecified reason.

The last verse is something we’ve discussed in the other versions of this. Jesus is telling them not to prepare a speech of defense; in Greek, the technical term is apologia. This has the unfortunate tendency to be translated as “apology” and for obvious reasons. Plato preserved what he would have us believe was Socrates’ defense speech when he was tried for corrupting the youth and teaching them/people not to believe in the gods. Socrates, of course, was convicted an executed, and Plato and many of his followers used this outcome to condemn democratic governments as a type. There is an unfortunate (IMO, anyway) tendency for Classicists to be elitist (Who? Me?) which too often shows up as a predilection for governments run by the “best” people. In Greek, the term is “aristo-kratia”, which often becomes conflated with mere “pluto-kratia”.

Anyway, the point here is that those being accused are to speak from their heart, and that Jesus will provide the words. This is interesting for two reasons, and I’m not sure which is the more provocative. The first point is that Matthew does not include this little bit about not worrying what to say. So, at the very least, this is yet another instance where Luke puts something back that Mark included and Matthew omitted. How many of these little “corrections” have we come across by this point? A dozen? More? I think the latter. But seriously, why would Matthew omit this? I suppose it’s not critical to the story. But does it point backwards, or forwards? Is this how those who suffered before the destruction of the Temple defended themselves? What was the success rate? Or was this advice, meant to be acted upon should  those in the audience find themselves in such dire straits? Mediaeval heretics actually followed the advice; most of them were convicted and executed, and the churchmen writing about the affair rather looked down their noses at the bumpkins who took this literally. As such, I tend to suspect it points backwards, but then I think most of these predictions point backwards. 

The second point, I’ve now decided, is the more intriguing. In Mark, Jesus says that the sacred breath will provide the inspiration (a bit of a redundancy; in-spiro = “breathe into”). Here, Jesus says he will. Now, one can argue that Jesus and the sacred breath are one and the same, since Jesus and the Father are one & the same. Except they weren’t when this was written, and I think that is exactly why Luke changed this to “I will provide the words…”: because Jesus and the sacred breath were not yet identified. The full-blown doctrine of the Trinity did not coalesce until late in the First Century, or well into the Second. This is one reason I prefer “sacred breath”, because “Holy Spirit”, like baptism or angels, has become loaded with accumulated meanings. We see it as a fully separate entity, to the point that we Capitalise the term “Holy Spirit”. That is not what the term meant when Luke wrote. Or when John wrote, for that matter. Rather, it was literally the sacred breath entering, God breathing–figuratively, at least–directly into the individual. This is why we are told it took the form of a dove when Jesus was dunked in the Jordan River, because, in that instance, it did take the form of a separate entity rather than being the collected exhalation of God. So I’m kind of thinking that Luke did not feel fully confident that the audience would quite get the concept, so he made it clear  by stating that it would be Jesus providing the words. In which case we have to ask whether this might be part of the reason why Matthew omitted this bit. On tjj\he whole, I rather doubt that, but the question deserves to be asked. I don’t know, and I haven’t cogitated on the idea long enough to have a sense of what I believe. Or, what I believe is that there just isn’t enough to go on. This episode doesn’t link to anything else that I can think of; that being said, this is the sort of thing that does deserve to be looked at: how does Matthew treat Mark’s use of the idea of the sacred breath?  

As for the section overall, given that we have four different situations in four different sentences all crammed into one paragraph (more or less; the concept is flatly anachronistic), one gets the sense that Luke is in a bit of a hurry here. He’s more less abridging the accounts of Mark and Matthew. Since the last time I mentioned this, I’ve done some work in the Harmony of the Gospels, comparing the lengths of the stories common to two or more of the Synoptics, and John when that’s relevant. This really brief bit of comparison, lasting perhaps an hour, has largely confirmed what I’ve felt was happening as we’ve been going along with the translation. When Mark and Matthew provide full accounts, as the two of them do in their treatments of this topic, Luke’s tends to be shorter. His version is the shortest here, but not by a lot. It’s certainly nowhere near as much shorter as Matthew’s version of the Gerasene Demonaic is than Mark’s and Luke’s versions. However, Luke’s version here is shorter. In turn, this makes Luke’s decision to put back the part about divine inspiration for the defense takes on greater significance, doesn’t it? If Luke is trying to abridge, why not just follow Matthew’s lead and omit it. Of course, the Q people will say that such never happens, that Luke never agrees with Matthew against Mark. Except, of course, for all of that Q material, which has been conveniently removed from the discussion. Luke agrees with Matthew against Mark a lot; that’s where Q comes from. There is one further point. Regarding whether this advice looks forward or backwards, Matthew might give us a clue. In Matthew’s version, the speeches for the defense usually failed. If the sacred breath of God had provided the words, then that becomes rather an embarrassment, no? Especially since Luke here says that no one will be able to withstand this defense. Is this because Matthew had seen, or at least knew specifically about persecutions that had not ended well? It’s a thought, and provides a possible explanation. There are so many points like this that deserve a much closer examination than they’ve received. You’d think someone would have asked these questions over the course of the last two millennia. Of course, perhaps people did ask, but the result was a one-way trip to a burning stake. 

10 Tunc dicebat illis: “ Surget gens contra gentem, et regnum adversus regnum;

11 et terrae motus magni et per loca fames et pestilentiae erunt, terroresque et de caelo signa magna erunt.

12 Sed ante haec omnia inicient vobis manus suas et persequentur tradentes in synagogas et custodias, et trahemini ad reges et praesides propter nomen meum;

13 continget autem vobis in testimonium.

14 Ponite ergo in cordibus vestris non praemeditari quemadmodum respondeatis;

15 ego enim dabo vobis os et sapientiam, cui non poterunt resistere vel contradicere omnes adversarii vestri.

16 παραδοθήσεσθε δὲ καὶ ὑπὸ γονέων καὶ ἀδελφῶν καὶ συγγενῶν καὶ φίλων, καὶ θανατώσουσιν ἐξ ὑμῶν,

17 καὶ ἔσεσθε μισούμενοι ὑπὸ πάντων διὰ τὸ ὄνομά μου.

18 καὶ θρὶξ ἐκ τῆς κεφαλῆς ὑμῶν οὐ μὴ ἀπόληται.

19 ἐν τῇ ὑπομονῇ ὑμῶν κτήσασθε τὰς ψυχὰς ὑμῶν.

“And you will be handed over both by parents and siblings and relatives and friends, and they will put (some) of you to death, (17) and you will be hated by all because of my name. (18) And the hair from your head has not been harmed. (19) In your endurance possess your psyches. OR In holding out, Possess! your psyches.

I commented above that the trials in Matthew didn’t go too well, and that Matthew suggested that the followers of Jesus would be killed. This is yet another example of me speaking without knowing what is coming. However, Luke really throws a curve ball here that is unique among the Synoptics. After the being killed and hated stuff, he says that not a hair has been harmed and that they have possessed their psyches. So let’s get this straight: they are dead, but not a hair of their heads has been harmed. At first glance we would say that the equation is out of balance. If you’ve been killed, presumably hairs have been harmed unless you’re being hyper-literal about the manner of death, that the induced trauma was directed at the torso, a wound thereto resulting in death. But that is ridiculous. Which takes us to the really important point: possessing their psyches. I did not translate psyche (transliteration of the Greek word) on purpose. First, we need to deal with the mood of “possess”. It’s an imperative, a command. It’s kind of an odd concept to think of “have/possess” as a command in English, but of course it’s grammatically possible and it linguistically meaningful. “Possess your book”, means, “hold onto it” or “keep it”, but we would usually choose to use one of those turns of phrase rather than “Possess!” So let’s think of it as “hold on to your psyche“. Let’s leave that for a moment.

Psyche, made famous by Freud, has come into English with a load of baggage. In most Christian contexts, in most NT contexts, it is straight-out translated as “soul”, the latter term carrying the implications that Christians have attached to the word. But there is a very real sense in which it does not mean what we think it does. I have been reading the Refutation of all Heresies, written at the end of the First Century CE by Hippolytus Romanus. He is the first to identify groups as Gnostics; in particular he spends a lot of time discussing a group called the Naaseni, who, he says, were the first to call themselves Gnostics. They maintain a three-fold division of the kosmos, which is sort of a merge of the ideas of Reality + Universe. “Creation” would probably capture it in Christian circles, but that would fall short since this kosmos also includes non-created reality and entities. In this kosmos, there are three levels of reality, or existence: the material, the psychical (psyche), and the spiritual (pneumatikos, pneuma, spirit/breath). Note that the psyche is only the intermediate level of reality, that there is a purely spiritual realm above that. We tend to think of the psyche in this manner, something purely spiritual, in the sense especially of non-material. Psyche is intermediate because it partakes of, or participates in, the life of an entity with a material form. It is the life essence, the breath that leaves the body when the body dies. As such, it is often a synonym for “life”, for which Greek also has the word bios and Latin has vita. Due to this dual nature of psyche, each time the word is encountered, it requires that the translator decide which way to go with this. Is the reference to the immortal soul? Or simply to animal life? And, FYI, Latin is even more ambiguous on this point. After all, the word for “soul” is anima, which is obviously the root of “animal”.

Perhaps the most salient example of this is the quote: “What shall it profit a person to gain the whole world but lose their own…” Their own what? Their own soul–which is how it is generally translated. Or lose their own life, which one does encounter. We tend to choose the former because it is more meaningful, the contrast is more meaningful. Of course there is no profit to gaining the world but ending up dead. But gaining the world and losing your soul is a double-whammy. First, in this lifetime you lose who you are as a person, becoming corrupted and damaged, perhaps to the point of self-hatred. Then you lose your immortal soul to an eternity of damnation. So that’s very meaningful in a Christian context, but is it what the Greek means in that context? That’s a different question, one that’s entirely relevant to the situation here. And the answer matters. Is Jesus saying that they will continue to possess their mortal life because the words he gives them will be so powerful that his followers will be released from gaol? Or is he saying they will possess their immortal soul, after they have been put to death by these earthly powers? Answering this, three of my four crib translations (NIV, NASB, & ESV) render as “life”; only the KJV chose “soul”. Perhaps oddly, my impulse leans toward “soul” for exactly the reason I’ve mentioned. Luke tells us in Verse 15 that they–or some of them, at least–will actually die. That seems to favor immortal soul. Or does it? Because in Verse 19 it is those who endure–or should we render it “in holding out”?–are commanded to possess their psyche. I still think that means something like “remaining steadfast (in your faith), you will possess your immortal soul”.

Two points. Greek psyche can, indeed, mean “immortal soul”, even if what they mean by that isn’t exactly what Christians mean, or understand by that term; 2) that the imperative mood is really hard to reconcile with what has been said here. I checked for textual variants that would give us and indicative mood, perhaps in the future tense, but nothing. It doesn’t help that the on-line L&S hasn’t been working today. Perhaps I will be able to revisit.

16 Trademini autem et a parentibus et fratribus et cognatis et amicis, et morte afficient ex vobis,

17 et eritis odio omnibus propter nomen meum.

18 Et capillus de capite vestro non peribit.

19 In patientia vestra possidebitis animas vestras.

20 Οταν δὲ ἴδητε κυκλουμένην ὑπὸ στρατοπέδων Ἰερουσαλήμ, τότε γνῶτε ὅτι ἤγγικεν ἡ ἐρήμωσις αὐτῆς.

21 τότε οἱ ἐν τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ φευγέτωσαν εἰς τὰ ὄρη, καὶ οἱ ἐν μέσῳ αὐτῆς ἐκχωρείτωσαν, καὶ οἱ ἐν ταῖς χώραις μὴ εἰσερχέσθωσαν εἰς αὐτήν,

22 ὅτι ἡμέραι ἐκδικήσεως αὗταί εἰσιν τοῦ πλησθῆναι πάντα τὰ γεγραμμένα.

23 οὐαὶ ταῖς ἐν γαστρὶ ἐχούσαις καὶ ταῖς θηλαζούσαις ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις: ἔσται γὰρ ἀνάγκη μεγάλη ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς καὶ ὀργὴ τῷ λαῷ τούτῳ,

24 καὶ πεσοῦνται στόματι μαχαίρης καὶ αἰχμαλωτισθήσονται εἰς τὰ ἔθνη πάντα, καὶ Ἰερουσαλὴμ ἔσται πατουμένη ὑπὸ ἐθνῶν, ἄχρι οὗ πληρωθῶσιν καιροὶ ἐθνῶν. 

“When you see Jerusalem encircled by armies, then you will know that this making of desolation has arrived. (21) Then those in Judea must flee to the hills, and those in the midst of it must leave the country, and those in the fields must not return to it, (22) that these are the days of vengeance/punishment of the (ful)filling of that writing. (23) Woe to those having (a foetus) in their stomach and to those nursing in those days. For there will be a great burden upon the world and wrath to that people (to those persons; the Greek is singular), (24) and they will fall in the edge (lit = mouth*) of a sword and they will be made captive to all the peoples, and Jerusalem will be trodden by the peoples, until the seasons of the peoples are filled.

[ed: *This literally says “the mouth of a sword” and that is how I had translated this when first published. It also has the figurative sense of face, or the forward part, which then blends to the tip/point, as of a sword, and sort of then becomes edge. The Greek is στόματι; cf Verse 15 for στόμα, there used as mouth. ]

Not that anyone is doing so, but is it at all possible to suggest, let alone argue, that this was not written after the sack of Jerusalem? The encirclement, the Jews captured & led away, the tramping of non-Jewish feet inside the city, are all details that Josephus describes. And here’s my latest thing: there was, I suspect, a certain amount of cross-pollination between Christians telling the story of Jesus and the non-Christian historians. I would argue that everything written about the Christians by non-Christian writers after 75-80 CE was more or less taken directly from Christian sources. Why do I say that? Because only the Christians had any interest in, and paid any attention to Jesus and his story, and even they didn’t start writing stuff down prior to Mark in 70 or so. (No, Paul doesn’t count because he has nothing about the living Jesus or Jesus’ death; his only concern is the risen Jesus. Sure, there were oral sources drifting about in the currents, but I think these are grossly over-credited by NT scholars. The latter, you see, are desperate for validation of the life of Jesus, for corroboration of the events of the gospels. They are so desperate, in fact, that they cling to the idea that there was this mysterious source that was vital to recording Jesus’ teaching, but managed to get lost in the shuffle. Without Q, all the accounts of Jesus’ life and death are dependent on Mark. There are no other sources. The gospels represent a single tradition. There are not three or four separate traditions. John did not have any new information except for what he made up about Christology and the other miracles not recorded by the Synoptics.

And for NT scholars, there is even a worse implication: all of the so-called corroboration supplied by Josephus, Tacitus, & Suetonius ultimately depends on Christian sources. For let’s be very clear: these three authors tell us about Christians; they tell us almost nothing about Jesus. That there were Christians is indisputably undeniable. Of course there were Christians. Starting in the mid-2nd Century (give or take) they start leaving us lots of records. But the Roman historians, Tacitus and Suetonius–who, however, is technically a biographer–say nothing about Jesus himself. The testimony of Flavius Josephus is problematic to the extreme, but the one nugget that strikes me as possibly authentic is when he relates that Jesus was put to death by “some of our leading men”, or however the exact quote runs. And by “our”, he means Jewish leading men. The thing is, by the time of Josephus, the only sources he would have had would almost certainly have been Christian. They told him the story of the Passion, and he swallowed it whole. Why not? There were obviously Christians in his day, so he very likely asked them for the story of their origins. They then related the events as told by Matthew, most likely. Matthew came to prominence in Christian circles by the last quarter of the First Century, to the point that it became the original gospel. It’s the longest, and it has way more detail than Mark. And its prominence is probably a reason why Luke wrote his. After reading Mark and then Matthew, Luke felt it necessary to “set the record straight” on some of the stories where Matthew went off the rails a bit too much and left out important stuff. Like the stuff about Jesus telling the disciples not to worry about what to say when put on trial, or that there was only one man possessed by a Legion among the Gerasenes, and not two. So the upshot is that the entirety of what we know about Jesus is close to 100% derived from Mark, or simply made up after Mark wrote. The stuff that Mark left out is what forms the central beliefs of Christianity, such as the Sermon on the Mount. How could Mark write a gospel that didn’t include that very long section? How is that possible? How could Mark who was supposedly Peter’s secretary, write a gospel that left out the “Thou art Peter” speech? That is the entire basis for Petrine/Roman primacy, and Mark, somehow, neglected to include that? Yeah. Not bloody likely.

Part of my point is that Luke and Josephus likely wrote at more or less the same time, somewhere in the mid-90s. I will have to go back to my notes, but in reading Eisenman’s analysis of Josephus as set out in James, The Brother of Jesus, I was struck by the overlap between Luke and the Jewish historian. I have no idea who wrote first, and I suspect no one really does since there is no firm date for Luke. If I were made to guess, I would say Josephus wrote first, and that this and the mistakes/omissions of Matthew were the reasons Luke decided to write his gospel.   

[addendum] One last thing. In Verse 22, we are told these are days of vengeance, or punishment. The question is vengeance against, or punishment of, whom? And note that the two words that are encompassed under the single Greek term ἐκδικήσεως (ekdikēseōs) are semi-contradictory. The root of the Greek word is δική/dikē which is a very important concept in Greek thought. The root is “custom”, but it’s much more frequently used in its secondary sense of “order”, and in particular “right order”. This carries with it the sense of a balance between opposing forces. The word that gets translated as “justification” is a translation into Latin of a word based on this root. To give a sense of the common ground between the Greek and Latin, think of “justifying” your margins, where the text is spread out across the line so the margins on both sides are even; however, the real “balance” is vertical, between lines going down the page, because we’ve all run into those situations where a couple of long words create great empty spaces on a line. So the root sense of this term is to restore proper balance. But: if translated as vengeance, do we not immediately, or most readily, think of vengeance against the Romans?

I read once that apocalyptic literature is sort of the last weapon of the downtrodden, because it’s essentially a revenge fantasy. This seems to capture the essence of apocalyptic writing very pointedly and very succinctly. I’ve used this before, and I truly wish I could recall where I read it because I would dearly love to credit my source for this wonderful insight. I believe it was John Dominic Crossan; second choice would be Bart Ehrman. These are the most likely choices because I’ve read more of their collected stuff than of everyone else combined. And I give preference to JDC because he tends to be more insightful and/or scholarly than Ehrman, who is more of an everyman. So if we’re talking about revenge, the natural object would be the oppressor.

We could also say the same about punishment. The oppressors will be punished for their heinous acts. And, while agreeing this is certainly possible, and possibly likely, could not the object of punishment also be the Jews? Jesus is warning the Jews to leave town and head for the hills. The Romans do not get this warning. But the Jews who do not follow instructions will be ground down alongside the Romans. Their capital and their Temple will be destroyed, and they will be led off as captives. Since this is more or less what Jesus says will happen, punishment directed against the Jews is hardly inconceivable. The point of all this is that it very much matters how this word gets translated. Of my translations, 3 of 4 choose vengeance; the NIV chooses punishment, and  I think that it is the proper rendering. The ugly fact is that the progressively prominent attitude contained in the NT is that the Jews had their chance, and they blew it, rejecting their own anointed one. This has been creeping along, fairly latent in Mark, becoming much more open in Matthew and Luke, culminating the in the diatribes of John. So make your choice: vengeance or punishment?

20 Cum autem videritis circumdari ab exercitu Ierusalem, tunc scitote quia appropinquavit desolatio eius.

21 Tunc, qui in Iudaea sunt, fugiant in montes; et, qui in medio eius, discedant; et, qui in regionibus, non intrent in eam.

22 Quia dies ultionis hi sunt, ut impleantur omnia, quae scripta sunt.

23 Vae autem praegnantibus et nutrientibus in illis diebus! Erit enim pressura magna super terram et ira populo huic,

24 et cadent in ore gladii et captivi ducentur in omnes gentes, et Ierusalem calcabitur a gentibus, donec impleantur tempora nationum.

Luke Chapter 20:41-47

(made a couple of minor edits: corrected the verses covered, added a comment about the last verse.)

This is one of those tail-end sections. It was too much to add to the end of the last one, but it’s really not enough for its own post. Whatever. Here is the end of the chapter. There are four chapters left in this gospel; after which I will need to figure out whence from here. So let’s have at it.

Text:

41 Εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς αὐτούς, Πῶς λέγουσιν τὸν Χριστὸν εἶναι Δαυὶδ υἱόν;

42 αὐτὸς γὰρ Δαυὶδ λέγει ἐν βίβλῳ ψαλμῶν, Εἶπεν κύριος τῷ κυρίῳ μου, Κάθου ἐκ δεξιῶν μου

43 ἕως ἂν θῶ τοὺς ἐχθρούς σου ὑποπόδιον τῶν ποδῶν σου.

44 Δαυὶδ οὖν κύριον αὐτὸν καλεῖ, καὶ πῶς αὐτοῦ υἱός ἐστιν;

45 Ἀκούοντος δὲ παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ εἶπεν τοῖς μαθηταῖς [αὐτοῦ],

46 Προσέχετε ἀπὸ τῶν γραμματέων τῶν θελόντων περιπατεῖν ἐν στολαῖς καὶ φιλούντων ἀσπασμοὺς ἐν ταῖς ἀγοραῖς καὶ πρωτοκαθεδρίας ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς καὶ πρωτοκλισίας ἐν τοῖς δείπνοις,

47 οἳ κατεσθίουσιν τὰς οἰκίας τῶν χηρῶνκαὶ προφάσει μακρὰ προσεύχονται: οὗτοι λήμψονται περισσότερον κρίμα. 

He said to them, “How do they say that the Christ is the son of David? (42) For David himself said in the Book of Psalms, ‘The lord speaks to my lord, “Sit at my right (hand), (43) until I may place your enemies under your feet”.’ (44) Thus David calls him lord, so how is he (Christ) his (David) son?” (45) Having heard all people, he said to his disciples, (46) “Beware of the scribes wishing to walk around in stoles* and loving greetings in the marketplace** and the first seats in the synagogues and the first seats at dinner parties. (47) They devour the houses of the widows and shine forth long as they pray. They will receive an extraordinary judgement.”

First, let me address the “shine forth long as they pray”. What is rendered “shine forth” can either be a feminine noun or a 3rd person plural verb. Here it is obviously a verb. Unfortunately, this verb only has one occurrence cited by the Great Scott (L&S); more, this is not the cite. The definition is “shine forth”. Peaking at the Latin, we get simulant. This being the root for “simulate” should be fairly obvious. All four of my crib translations render it along these lines, the idea being that they make a long, but hypocritical display of praying for a long time. They are simulating holiness. The noun form, interestingly, does not have the sense of falseness; it means plea, as in a court, but in a neutral sense. It means a falsely alleged motive, and that, according to the Latin and a contextual reading, does not fit here. The idea, supposedly, is that it is the scribes that are false, that their praying is false, not that Jesus is ascribing false motives. If you step back and let your eyes blur a bit, perhaps you can see how “shine forth” came from ascribing a motive, and then how the two became a negative, as conveyed by the Latin “to simulate”. We must always remember that St Jerome lived something like 300 years after Jesus, so there was plenty of time for words to develop. We must also bear in mind that it’s possible that even someone as erudite as St Jerome could be unaware of an obscure verb like this, so he read the meaning from the context, which he largely derived from the other two tellings of this story. We all get it that Jesus is calling them fakers, so St Jerome decided to clarify that in the Latin. 

It only just occurred to me to check other uses in the NT. There are several. The most relevant is Mk 12:40, which is not exactly parallel to Luke’s story. That his the story of the Widow’s Mite, wherein Mark excoriates the rich in general rather than single out the scribes as Luke does here. And, perhaps even more interesting is that most textual traditions leave this story out of Matthew; it would be Mt 23:13, but the KJV and most manuscript traditions not not include it. In those that do, the wording is similar to  that used by Luke; it only makes sense that this passage was inserted into Matthew because someone noticed it was missing, and took Luke as their example. The Greek word is used in Mark, and four other times, including twice by Paul in two of his earlier letters, 1 Thessalonians and Philippians. The other two are in Acts, which is presumably Luke again, and finally once by John. In all cases it is rendered as “cloak”, which is a metaphor for pretense. However, checking the Vulgate, in none of these other places is the verb “simulo” used in as a translation. The standard is praetextus, as a pretense, the derivation of the latter from the former being reasonably straightforward.

So what is the point? Just that a lot of this stuff is not cut as clearly as some would have you believe. I have long since passed the point where I can read any religious or philosophical or theological text translated from Greek or Latin into English. Historical works don’t matter quite as much, but the linguistic fields for a lot of these religious or philosophical or theological texts is just too important to trust a translation. And, interestingly, as a youngster I found the Victorian translations unbearably stilted; now I realize how much closer to the original they are. Except, are they really? Or is it because the Greek & Latin lexica were also creations of the Victorian era, so they use the same words the Victorian translators did? The answer, of course, is yes.

There are a couple of other translation issues that were worth flagging. Translated as “stole”. *Grk = stolai; Lat = stolis. If ypu are of a certain age, you will recall the mink stole being a standard item on the wish-list of every suburban housewife. At least, you would think that if your only historical source were sitcoms.

**Translated as marketplace: In Greek, = agora. In Latin = forum. The latter word has passed into English with a much, much broader range of meanings, almost none of them associated with markets, trade, or commerce. People are given. forum in which to be heard; sports teams, especially professional hockey and basketball, used to play in a place called The Forum. At root, the agora in a Greek polis, and the Forum in Rome were simply a large, open area, more or less centrally located, where the merchants would sell their wares. The Greek word agora maintained this commercial implication, whereas the Forum in Rome did not. It had always been the meeting place for political or legal (which were often the same thing) or religious events, speeches, trials, funerals, etc. It became ringed by many temples.  At some point the commercial aspect became decidedly a secondary, or even a tertiary, function, then more or less supplanted completely, those functions moved elsewhere. The meaning of the word remained. In other Latin/Roman cities, the forum retained its function as a marketplace. 

I initially wondered why the Scribes became the villain du jour in this story. A glance, however, showed me this is not the case. All three evangelists refer to them a number of times. And not in a kindly manner. Having mentioned Eisenman and his theory about which groups of Jews sided with or against the Romans may have some validity. It may not. What I do believe is knowable is that we cannot reasonably expect the NT to reflect any of these divisions with any degree of historical accuracy. Looking in the NT for the political situation is like looking in Little Women for a description of the politics of the Jefferson and Madison presidencies. Or, perhaps, the period of Andrew Jackson. The world had changed in the interim. This simply goes back to the nostrum that the evangelists were not writing history, but there is an addendum to that. Even if the evangelists intended to write history, they were very, very poorly positioned to do so. They did not have much background in the discipline, even as it existed then. We only need to read Josephus to grasp this. I found The Antiquities very tedious to read because I found it to be focused on the internal gossip of the Herodian family. He’s not exactly the most credible source one can find, but at least had access to records and some exposure real historical writing. The evangelists had neither. Given that, I would be very leery of drawing any political conclusions about the political situation of the 30s based on the gospels. So why the Scribes? I guess a reasonable answer would be “Why not?” Had to pick on someone, so they got the short straw this time.

[ Addendum: Scarcely ten minutes after posting, I realized I had neglected to comment on the “great” judgement, as I originally translated this. However, I took a second look at the word for “great” and realized it wasn’t what I had thought it was. So I changed it to “extraordinary”. In this case, that’s in the bad sense. “One helluva judgement” might more or less capture the sense, that it’s  (a) not good thing; and (b) that it’s going to be a doozie. These people are going to have the book thrown at them, to use a 1950s police cliché. IOW they were in for a world of hurt. ] 

41 Dixit autem ad illos: “ Quomodo dicunt Christum filium David esse? 

42 Ipse enim David dicit in libro Psalmorum:

“Dixit Dominus Domino meo: Sede a dextris meis, / 43 donec ponam inimicos tuos scabellum pedum tuorum”.

44 David ergo Dominum illum vocat; et quomodo filius eius est?”.

45 Audiente autem omni populo, dixit discipulis suis: 

46 “Attendite a scribis, qui volunt ambulare in stolis et amant salutationes in foro et primas cathedras in synagogis et primos discubitus in conviviis, 

47 qui devorant domos viduarum et simulant longam orationem. Hi accipient damnationem maiorem”.

Luke Chapter 20:9-19

This entire chapter is devoted to Jesus teaching in the Temple. In Verse 1, Luke said the events were transpiring in “one of those days”. Now, “those” is a pretty vague term that can mean a lot of things. But this chapter comes immediately after the Triumphal Entry and the Cleansing of the Temple; it’s also before the Passion. Reading this to mean “one of those days after the Entry and before the Crucifixion” does not strain the language. The point is that Jesus struck at the economic foundations of the wealth of the Temple, and so its curators and staff, a day or two before, and now is calmly having a discussion. Those curators and staff, the High Priest and high priests, are trying to get Jesus into trouble by tricking him into saying something they can use against him in a court of law. That seems a bit odd, since he pretty much caused a riot–or at least a major disturbance– a few days earlier. I would think that disturbing the peace and/or vandalism would be much more serious charges, and ones that are much easier to prosecute. He committed those acts in front of a Temple courtyard full of witnesses. Would it not be easier to obtain a judgement of condemnation for those actions than to trap him into something like blasphemy? Especially since the difference between orthodox teaching and blasphemy can be a reasonably slippery distinction to make? And especially if Jesus has to be tried by the Romans. The army of occupation, led by Pilate, really had no knowledge of, and less interest in, the intricacies of Jewish faith. Disturbing the peace, OTOH, was something the Romans cared about, and a lot. I’ve been beating this argument, but it is critical if we want to understand the situation and make any kind of attempt to figure out why Jesus was executed. Starting with Mark, the evangelists have been careful to concoct a story in which it seems like the Jewish authorities were the ones to blame, and this because they found Jesus’ teachings to be heterodox, or possibly dangerous because he was trying to foment rebellion. Well, Jesus carried out an act that could easily be classified as rebellious and…nothing. A day or two later, they are having a discussion with him to trick him into blasphemy.

How does that make sense? Seriously. We are supposed to take the gospels seriously as history, but then they present a series of events that simply makes no sense if we’re to read it as history. The accounts make a lot of sense if read allegorically, or as myth, or as a presentation of dogma, or at least belief. But as history? Not so much.

Text

9 Ἤρξατο δὲ πρὸς τὸν λαὸν λέγειν τὴν παραβολὴν ταύτην: Ἄνθρωπός [τις] ἐφύτευσεν ἀμπελῶνα, καὶ ἐξέδετο αὐτὸν γεωργοῖς, καὶ ἀπεδήμησεν χρόνους ἱκανούς. 

He began (to teach) to the people this parable: “There was a (certain) man (who) planted a vineyard, and he leased this to farmers (lit = something like tenders of fields), and he went out of the territory/village for a sufficient time.

Right out of the gate there are a couple of things. Note that Jesus is preaching to “the people”. This is after I said he was discoursing with the high priests, etc. But recall that in the first section he was indeed talking to the high priests and/or scribes, etc. And after this story, he will again address the priestly group directly. Here, I think, we are supposed to imagine that, as the priests look on, Jesus begins to address those assembled. Had they been listening all along? Or did he suddenly turn away from the knot of scribes, etc, and begin declaiming to the crowd, more or less uninvited, relying on his personal charisma to catch and hold their attention? Or was the evangelist not paying attention, and just sort of launched into this? Is this, in fact, an example of the infamous “editorial fatigue”, wherein the evangelist can’t focus on his narrative for more than a few verses sequentially? As it turns out, this question will be answered later on.

The other thing is the “sufficient time”. Once again, I am over-literal, but that is the base meaning of the word: sufficient, or even worthy. Those are overlapping concepts; at least, they can be. All of my four crib translations (ESV, NASB, NIV, and KJV) render this as “for a long time”. Now, this idea of length does fall into the meaning of the word; however, it also completely lacks the nuances of sufficient and worthy. The Latin, OTOH, renders this as << multis temporibus >>; literally, a lot of, a long time. Once again, we find that our scholarly predecessors favored the Latin over the Greek text, despite all their protestations of going back to the original. Yes, this translation may make more sense in English, but it also ignores some of the subtleties of the Greek. In particular, we can note that the KJV stuck with the more familiar Latin reading. This is not the first time we’ve noted this.

9 Coepit autem dicere ad plebem parabolam hanc: “ Homo plantavit vineam et locavit eam colonis et ipse peregre fuit multis temporibus. 

10 καὶ καιρῷ ἀπέστειλεν πρὸς τοὺς γεωργοὺς δοῦλον, ἵνα ἀπὸ τοῦ καρποῦ τοῦ ἀμπελῶνος δώσουσιν αὐτῷ: οἱ δὲ γεωργοὶ ἐξαπέστειλαν αὐτὸν δείραντες κενόν. 

11 καὶ προσέθετο ἕτερον πέμψαι δοῦλον: οἱ δὲ κἀκεῖνον δείραντες καὶ ἀτιμάσαντες ἐξαπέστειλαν κενόν. 

“And in the season he sent to the husbandmen a slave, so that from the fruit of the vineyard they (the renters) will give him (i.e., like a sharecropping arrangement; or they would pay a money rent). The renters sent him away empty, he having been beaten. (11) And he added another, he sent a slave (i.e., he added a second, sending another slave); and also beating and dishonouring him they sent him away empty.

“Husbandmen” is an archaic word in English. I lifted this directly from the KJV. The various translations are ‘vine-growers’ or ‘tenants’, both of which are accurate enough. The root of the word is ‘georg-‘, which should be recognizable as the root of the English name “George”. In Greek, this root gives rise to the words for ‘field’, ’tillage/farming’, and farmer. It’s one who tends to the field, field being taken in a broad sense. So if I translate it as ‘tenant’, don’t be surprised; however, ‘sharecropper’ might actually capture the sense better by combining the ideas of paying rent and tilling the field itself. In various translations, one will encounter this story under the rubric, “The Wicked Tenants”.

The bit about adding the second slave is difficult to put into English. The meaning is clear enough. It’s just that both verbs, “added” and “sent” modify both the direct object and adjective. So, he added another slave (and) sent another slave would be the most direct translation, but it totally misses the Greek. Again, the meaning is not affected, but the intricacy of the Greek gets lost. And the same construction recurs in Verse 12 below.

BTW, the Latin word for “empty” is “inane”; well, technically, << inanem >>, the root being << inanus >>, but the root is clear enough,

10 Et in tempore misit ad cultores servum, ut de fructu vineae darent illi; cultores autem caesum dimiserunt eum inanem. 

11 Et addidit alterum servum mittere; illi autem hunc quoque caedentes et afficientes contumelia dimiserunt inanem. 

12 καὶ προσέθετο τρίτον πέμψαι: οἱ δὲ καὶ τοῦτον τραυματίσαντες ἐξέβαλον.

13 εἶπεν δὲ ὁ κύριος τοῦ ἀμπελῶνος, Τί ποιήσω; πέμψω τὸν υἱόν μου τὸν ἀγαπητόν: ἴσως τοῦ τον ἐντραπήσονται.

14 ἰδόντες δὲ αὐτὸν οἱ γεωργοὶ διελογίζοντο πρὸς ἀλλήλους λέγοντες, Οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ κληρονόμος: ἀποκτείνωμεν αὐτόν, ἵνα ἡμῶν γένηται ἡ κληρονομία.

“And he added a third and he sent a third; but they, having traumatized him (literally) they threw (him) out. (13) The lord of the vineyard said,  ‘What shall I do? I will send my son, my beloved. Perhaps they will be shamed by him’. (14) Seeing him the farmers spoke amongst themselves saying, ‘He is the heir. Let us kill him, so that we will be the heirs’.

Even if we had not read the other versions of the story, I suspect we can guess where this is going. But no spoilers in case anyone is coming to this fresh.

12 Et addidit tertium mittere; qui et illum vulnerantes eiecerunt. 

13 Dixit autem dominus vineae: “Quid faciam? Mittam filium meum dilectum; forsitan hunc verebuntur”. 

14 Quem cum vidissent coloni, cogitaverunt inter se dicentes: “Hic est heres. Occidamus illum, ut nostra fiat hereditas”. 

15 καὶ ἐκβαλόντες αὐτὸν ἔξω τοῦ ἀμπελῶνος ἀπέκτειναν. τί οὖν ποιήσει αὐτοῖς ὁ κύριος τοῦ ἀμπελῶνος;

16 ἐλεύσεται καὶ ἀπολέσει τοὺς γεωργοὺς τούτους, καὶ δώσει τὸν ἀμπελῶνα ἄλλοις. ἀκούσαντες δὲ εἶπαν, Μὴ γένοιτο.

“And throwing him out of the vineyard, they killed him. So what will the lord of the vineyard do to them? (16) He will go and he will destroy (= kill) those husbandmen, and he will give the vineyard to others”. Hearing, they said, “Let this not become (come to pass/happen)”.   

This story is part of the Triple Tradition; both Mark and Matthew include this story. We have an example where Luke follows Mark in a very specific way, then he diverges from both. Both Mark and Luke say that the lord “will give” the vineyard to others. Matthew says that he will (paraphrasing a bit) “rent it out to others who will pay him the rent that is due”. This is yet another example of what I’ve been talking about. Mark says he will give it to others. Matthew says he will rent it and will be paid for it. Once again, Luke, having read the two previous versions, decides that Matthew got it wrong, once again, and corrected Matthew. God isn’t going to rent out the Kingdom; he’s going to give it to new people. The Q people say that Luke never agrees with Matthew against Mark; they do not explain why on earth he would do so. On a number of occasions, we’ve asked why someone would decide to do something as odd as writing a gospel. The answer, clearly, is that the author does so because s/he believe s/he has something more to say about the story. Mark gave us bare bones; Matthew filled it out. Luke read both and decided that there were places where Matthew got it wrong, or at least where his interpretation left the reader with the wrong impression. So Luke set out to correct the record. He did not seek to supersede Matthew, just as Matthew did not seek to supersede Mark; rather, Luke wanted to get us back to the proper intent of the parable. God has no intention of being a landlord, and Luke wants to underscore that.

Also, this comes hard on the heels of the last chapter, with its stories of Palm Sunday and the Cleansing of the Temple. In both instances, Matthew was in sufficient agreement with Mark, and both told the story in full, so Luke decided enough was enough. He did not omit the stories, but he presented them with what someone called “epic compression”. (Sorry; I read these things and a phrase sticks subconsciously. A proper scholar would make a note of the citation. But I’m not a proper scholar; I’m a guy writing a blog, so my notes are not as meticulous as perhaps they could be. But that expression is not my own. It’s likely to be from Robert Eisenman, since he is the last secondary source I read, and I believe I came upon the quote recently. Who knows? When I make the attempt to turn this into proper scholarship, I will be much more careful. I promise.)

The divergence from both is also interesting. “Let this not come to pass”. This is said by those having heard the story. This raises the questions: Why is this here/Why did Luke add it? The second is, what does this tell us about Luke’s overall outlook? The two are related, but not entirely synonymous. The first question to ask about the first question is Who said this? Those hearing. Which people hearing. Spoiler alert: in the next couple of verses we will get the answer posed for the first couple verses about the audience. Jesus was talking to the high priests, etc, in the first eight verses. Then in Verse 9 he starts talking to “the people”, presumably the civilians, to whom he relates this parable. Then in Verse 19 we find that the high priests are still about. So who uttered the phrase, which is, per the commentator Ellicott, the equivalent of “God forbid”. You see, I cheated on this and went to look at some commentaries. As for who said the words, the commentators are divided. Gill said it was the high priests and scribes; The Expositor’s Greek Testament says that it was the people who said it.  A couple of others seem not to care, other than that it was said by “Jews”, or “The Jews”, as they will be called by John the Evangelist. This outward lament is supposed to be the cry of anguish as “The Jews” realize and understand the parable, and that they are to be the ones excluded from the Kingdom that will come.

But none of that explains why Luke included it. Several commentaries mention that this is a Pauline expression; that Paul uses this expression, or something similar, ten times in Romans per the Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges. I wonder a bit about that, since this is in the optative, which is very rare in the NT; hence, the qualification of “or something similar”. But that just deals with the language in which the thought is expressed; it does not touch on why the thought is there. Really , this is not such a big mystery. By the time Luke wrote, most of the Jewish elements had been purged from what can–even should– be called Christianity. There is no way to quantify this, of course; however, Eusebios makes it reasonably clear that this was what was happening. I do not entirely trust Eusebios on this. the nascent anti-Semitism in his writing indicates that he was, at best, ambivalent about the Jewish element of Christianity. He loved loved loved it when he was claiming the ancient heritage that legitimized Christianity in the eyes of some people; OTOH, as much as he loved Abraham and Moses, he was not at all fond of Jews who lived in the time of, or the time after Jesus. These Jews were the ones who rejected Jesus. And here Luke provides an expression of their collective anguish when they realize that they have been superseded, that Christians have jumped the line giving entrance into the Kingdom. Unfortunately, this seems to indicate that Luke shared the view that Jews had been pushed aside.

15 Et eiectum illum extra vineam occiderunt. Quid ergo faciet illis dominus vineae? 

16 Veniet et perdet colonos istos et dabit vineam aliis”.  Quo audito, dixerunt:“ Absit!”. 

17 ὁ δὲ ἐμβλέψας αὐτοῖς εἶπεν, Τί οὖν ἐστιν τὸ γεγραμμένον τοῦτο: Λίθον ὃν ἀπεδοκίμασαν οἱ οἰκοδομοῦντες, οὗτος ἐγενήθη εἰς κεφαλὴν γωνίας;

18 πᾶς ὁ πεσὼν ἐπ’ ἐκεῖνον τὸν λίθον συνθλασθήσεται: ἐφ’ ὃν δ’ ἂν πέσῃ, λικμήσει αὐτόν.

19 Καὶ ἐζήτησαν οἱ γραμματεῖς καὶ οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς ἐπιβαλεῖν ἐπ’ αὐτὸν τὰς χεῖρας ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ὥρᾳ, καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν τὸν λαόν: ἔγνωσαν γὰρ ὅτι πρὸς αὐτοὺς εἶπεν τὴν παραβολὴνταύτην. 

He (Jesus), looking on said to them, “So what is this writing, ‘The stone the builders rejected, this has become the head of the angle/corner’?  (18) All falling upon the stone will be broken. The one on whom it falls, it will grind him’.” (19) And the scribes and the high priests sought to lay hands on him at that hour, but they feared the people. For they knew that he spoke the parable against them.  

Here we solve the mystery of whom he is addressing. While Jesus addressed the crowd, he was actually speaking to the the priests and scribes. Not sure I ever completely “got it” before, but the rejected stone was a reference to Jesus. Seriously, that should have . been a no-brainer, but it wasn’t. I thought it was the Christian humility thing. Anyway, this clearly marks the comment as post-Jesus; it only makes sense after he had been rejected; perhaps “rejected with extreme prejudice” would be the best description. Interestingly, Luke does add a wrinkle to the narrative. None of the other two evangelists have the comment about falling on the stone and getting broken, or being ground if the stone fell on them is completely novel. When the third version adds something in this manner, we really are required to ask why, if we wish to be taken seriously as commentators and/or historians. Some of the Commentaries link this back to Isaiah or Jeremiah, others to the stone that is a stumbling block on 1 Corinthians 1:23. My gut reaction is that this is yet another reference to the fate of the Jews who were ground by the Roman millstone in the Jewish War; or, perhaps it is a bit more subtle, referring to the way Jews were superseded as the majority of Jesus’ followers by the time the gospels were written. In the final analysis, of course, we can never be certain why Luke added this. That’s a lame conclusion, utterly betraying the concept of historical judgement. My take is that there is a certain amount of malevolence intended. The Expositor’s Greek Testament credits this to Daniel 2:35, but only in part. The implication is that the scribes and high priests would be ground to chaff and blown away, which doesn’t entirely work with the passage here. In turn, Daniel refers back to Isaiah et al, passages in which the wicked will be no more because they will have been ground to chaff.

So yeah, malevolent.

17 Ille autem aspiciens eos ait: “Quid est ergo hoc, quod scriptum est:

‘Lapidem quem reprobaverunt aedificantes, hic factus est in caput anguli’?

18 Omnis, qui ceciderit supra illum lapidem, conquassabitur; supra quem autem ceciderit, comminuet illum ”. 

19 Et quaerebant scribae et principes sacerdotum mittere in illum manus in illa hora et timuerunt populum; cognoverunt enim quod ad ipsos dixerit similitudinem istam.

Summary Luke Chapter 19

The chapter was another mixed bag, with a lot of different ideas, themes, and types of story. The first was the tale of Zaccheus. Two things stand out for me. The first is that the inclusion of a story set in Jericho indicates the spread and growth of the Jesus Legend. Much earlier in the gospel we had the story of Jesus raising the son of the widow of Nain from the dead. Both of these are unique to Luke, and both of them represent settings in places where no previous stories had been set. Indeed, Nain had never been mentioned; and while Jericho was the setting for the returning the sight of bar Timaeus, this had occurred outside the gates in previous tellings. The tale of Zaccheus takes place inside Jericho itself, which widens the net of places where Jesus acted. Presumably, the stories indicate locations where assemblies of the followers of Jesus– it is probably correct to call them Christians at this point– had taken root. Not wanting to feel left out, one suspects that they sort of grew their own tales to demonstrate their participation in the movement. Yes, of course, this flies in the face of the idea that all of the events described are factually accurate down to the smallest detail, but that idea is simply untenable. I suspect that anyone holding that view has long since abandoned reading anything I say, and I don’t blame them for that decision. So there you have it. To believe that the stories of the events in the life of Jesus circulated intact and underground until picked up by Matthew or Luke– and worst of all, by John– just is not tenable. It is at this point that someone  starts to talk about the reliability of oral traditions and waves their hand as if disputing the accuracy of oral tradition is the height of folly. To which I respond: the Song of Roland is based on indisputably historical events, the course of which are known and pretty much settled. And yet, the Song of Roland relates these historical events and gets the enemy wrong. So, yeah, stories got made up to include Nain and Jericho.

While we’re talking about these two stories, there are a couple of things that should be pointed out, traits that carry a bit more weight than when considered in isolation. Luke has the story of the Widow of Nain; he does not have the story of Jairus’ daughter. I would suggest that Luke omitted the latter because he had a replacement for it. The import of Jairus daughter is that Jesus brought the dead girl back to life. Jesus does exactly that by revivifying the widow’s son, but the circumstances are much more dramatic. After all, Jairus’ daughter died just moments (hours?) before Jesus arrived; the widow’s son had been dead some time. Jesus raised the girl more or less in private; he raised the widow’s son while the latter was on his way to the tomb, and in front of all in the funeral procession. It was very public. The upshot is that Luke had a better story than that of Jairus, and the latter story had been well-covered by Mark and Matthew. We saw this same sort of abridgement later in this chapter when we read Luke’s versions of Palm Sunday, Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, and the Cleansing of the Temple. All of these stories are part of the triple tradition; all of them were reported in full by Luke’s two predecessors. As a result, Luke did not feel the need to tell the full story as he had done with the story of the Gerasene Demonaic, which Matthew shortened, and by a lot. So Luke, apparently, did not see the point of retelling the story of Jairus, but substituted that of the Widow of Nain, which carried a lot more dramatic wallop. In the same way, at the end of Chapter 18, we were told the story of bar Timaeus. Again, the story was carried in full by Mark and Matthew; again, Luke gave us a shorter version, to the point where Luke does not provide the name of the man whose sight was restored. So here we have a cluster of stories all exhibiting a common trait: Luke tells a short version when the longer version has been, to his mind, adequately covered. Are all these a mere coincidence? It’s possible, of course, but in these two chapters we have a half-dozen such examples, and there are others I don’t recall offhand. That’s a lot of coincidence. Of course, this carries the strong implication that Luke was, indeed, very well aware of Matthew. Luke never goes short when Matthew does; rather, Luke goes short when Matthew goes long. Put another nail in the coffin of Q.

The other part of the Zaccheus story is that we are told the Z-man merited salvation. The more exact cite would be that Jesus said that salvation had come to Zaccheus’ house; the cause of the salvation was given in the previous verse, when Z-man promised to make restitution, and to take no more than was due in the future. In short, he repented and promised to change his ways. Bingo. Also to be noted is that Luke used the word “salvation”, sōtēria. This is exactly the fourth time the word has been used in the gospels; the first three all came in Chapter 1, and they all come between Verses 69-77. They are part of the prophecy Zaccharias gives regarding his coming son, John-who-will-be-called-Baptist, after Zaccharias has regained his powers of speech that he lost for doubting that he and Elizabeth would have a son in their old age. John, Zaccharias says, is going to preach and offer salvation to the children of Abraham. There, however, the Lord God will give salvation Israel from their enemies; this is a different kind of salvation. So, this is the first time that the idea of salvation, in its Christian sense, is mentioned in the gospels. It’s also the first time in the whole NT where the nexus of salvation is connected to merit.

This distinction is important because it is not the first time the word salvation is used in the NT. Paul uses it several times, most especially in Romans, but also tracing back to Philippians and 1 Thessalonians. The last two, with Galatians, are the earliest pieces of writing in all of the NT; that Paul uses the term as Luke does here indicates that the concept of salvation dates back to the first days of the development of what would become Christianity. 1 Thessalonians 5:8-10 is very explicit about this: we are to obtain salvation from the wrath through the lord, who died for us that we might live with him. Then, after Paul, the concept more or less disappeared until showing up in the first chapter of Luke: Zaccahrias talks about salvation and the angels tell the shepherds that a saviour has been born this day. John’s Gospel uses each of the words exactly once. Then the terms salvation and saviour are used numerous times in the later epistles, like Timothy, Titus, Peter 1&2, and even in Revelations. Think about that: Jesus is referred to as The Saviour exactly twice in all four gospels, and only in the last two written.

What happened? I ask this because the term “saviour” became very popular with the Ante-Nicene Patristic writers. I’m currently reading The Refutation of All Heresies. This was written in the early 3rd Century CE by Hippolytus Romanus. He uses the term “saviour” for Jesus the Christ frequently, and by the time Eusebios wrote in the early-mid 4th Century, referring to Jesus as “our Saviour” was a standard form of address. So the question is what happened between Paul and Luke? Why was the term not used by the first two evangelists?

My first impulse is to exhibit this split up as powerful evidence of how the different traditions of Jesus told different stories. Backing up a step, it’s really good evidence that there were at least two different traditions. There was the tradition that ignored the term saviour and the tradition that kept it alive. In turn, it also reinforces, to some degree, my contention that Mark welded the traditions of the Wonder Worker and The Christ into a single story; but then if we notice that the Christ tradition did not include the saviour tradition, perhaps our count is now up to three separate story lines. And here is where Luke takes on a new level of significance: since he is the one who uses the term in his gospel, what he did was to merge the Pauline tradition into the two that were preserved by Mark and expanded by Matthew. Going forward, since the Christ tradition likely originated with Paul (so far as we know), the fact that the Christ was maintained by one group but the saviour tradition was lost perhaps indicates that the Pauline tradition itself was bifurcated. Then if we recall the tradition that resulted in the Didache, we can argue that there was a fourth– or fifth, depending on how you define it– tradition. Given the Pauline split, it should not surprise us that at least one–and probably more– Gnostic interpretation evolved later. In fact, Hippolytus Romanus describes a plethora of what he calls heresies, and heresies continued to develop until eventually one was called the Reformation.

As I mentioned, I’m currently reading (well, I’ve started to read; the book is 1000+ pages) the book James, Brother of Jesus, by Robert Eisenman. The author is reputable; he did a lot of work on the Dead Sea Scrolls, but he may have gone a bit off the rails in this one. As the title suggests, the book is an attempt to re-establish James in his rightful place in Christian development. He believes we can identify two major strains of Christian development: the Hellenistic, founded by Paul, which eventually became the orthodox version, and a Jewish or Palestinian branch, founded by James. This group, he says, was part of the sect that produced the Dead Sea Scrolls, which he dates to the First Century CE, rather than the widely accepted First Century BCE. This latter group was anti-Roman in both a religious as well as a political sense. The group included the Zealots, and Eisenman numbers James among them. They were, supposedly, much like the English Puritans, intellectual descendants of the Maccabees who were vehemently opposed to foreign rule. He identifies them with one branch of Saducees, which term he derives from the name of the High Priest Zadok. Saducees, he says, is the Hellenized form of Zadokites. There is much that I’ve found interesting so far, but I have a foreboding that he’s going to base too much on linguistic similarities and/or coincidences. Time will tell. But he is certainly on solid ground to argue that James was more or less erased from history by the Hellenizers, former pagans, who had no real connexion to Jewish Christians to start with, but who lost even this once James was killed in the mid-60s, which event was followed closely by the Jewish War. If nothing else, there is the Didache giving evidence that such a non-Pauline strain did hang on to leave the document.

What’s really fascinating is that he links James to the Ebionites–something everyone does–but then takes this a step further. The Ebionites, the Poor Ones, were concerned with the status of the downtrodden; we have noted that much of “Christian” concern with the poor and the meek is actually part of the Jewish tradition, something running through numerous books of the Hebrew Scriptures (HS). So if it were James who was concerned with the poor and the meek, perhaps the Sermon on the Mount originated with James, and not his more famous brother. This appeals to me for a couple of reasons. I have been harping on the idea that James was the head of the ekklesia for nigh on 30 years; as a result, it’s impossible that he did not have some kind of major impact on what the group believed and how it saw itself. I also want to believe I’ve suggested that material in the Sermon on the Mount may have originated with James and not Jesus, and that I came up with this thought independently. The problem is that I started reading this book at some point a couple of years ago, but I don’t remember how much I read. It wasn’t a lot, but how much is “not a lot”? Ten pages? One hundred (10% of a 1,000 page book…) So did these ideas lodge there to be reawakened “on my own” at a later date? This is sort of the phenomenon of “inadvertent copyright infringement. You hear a song once or twice, forget about it, and then one day you compose a song that sounds a lot like it. You didn’t knowingly steal it, but there it is.

The second reason the idea appeals, of course, because this all-but completely eliminates the need for Q. Jesus never said this stuff, so it never got written down, which means no Q, and Luke got it all from Matthew.

This has gotten way off topic. Regardless, it’s important to see the broader implications of what is going on in this writing. The focus in too much writing on the NT is much, much too narrow, usually only stepping back when needed to make a particular point. This is the risk, and the result, when non-historians try to write about the historical Jesus.

The rest of the chapter was dedicated to stories that are part of the Triple Tradition. These include the Triumphal Entry, Jesus Weeping Over Jerusalem, and The Cleansing of the Temple. In all three cases, the version presented here is short and sweet, almost to the point of perfunctory. This is in keeping with what I perceive to be a pattern: where Mark and Matthew present a full-length version of a story, Luke provides a condensed version as he does here in all three cases. Alternatively, if Matthew abridges one of Mark’s stories, such as that of the Gerasene Demonaic, Luke is content to give us a redacted form of the story as he did here.

The one place where Luke added material was in the Tale of the Talents. This is my term for the Gospel of Capitalism, where the slaves of the master are expected to turn a profit for him on the money he entrusted to them. As I’ve mentioned in the other two versions, I’ve always had a problem with this; however, I’ve finally figured out that the money is a metaphor for spiritual growth. The lord gave his slaves spiritual gifts; two of the slaves were able to increase their gifts, to become more spiritual, but the third was afraid to try. This is a metaphorical inducement that, as followers of Jesus, we can’t be passive and hide our spirituality by burying it in the ground. And now it occurs to me that this story is much more apt to refer to conditions in the 60s or 70s as in the 30s or 40s. There was unrest in Judea in the later 30s, so it could date to that period. After all, if the story was already in Mark who wrote shortly after the destruction of Jerusalem, that provides a pretty tight chronology for the events to occur and the story to be created. It’s possible either way. The point is that during times of trouble, certain followers likely buried their spiritual gifts by denying their religious affiliation rather than let their freak flag fly and face persecution. Of course, it’s always easy after the fact, from the comfort of a secure, non-threatening environment, to tell people how they should have behaved when placed in mortal danger.

One thing that is very important to remember about facing danger for one’s beliefs is that the idea of martyrdom was most emphatically not a Christian invention. Like concern for social justice, this was something the Christians appropriated from their Jewish forerunners, and then tried to imply that they were the only ones with this degree of courage of convictions. The fact is that Josephus relates several stories in which crowds of Jews bared their necks to Roman swords to force the Romans to choose between desecration of the Temple (e.g.) or the mass slaughter of hundreds of Jews, which would have inflamed passion against Rome even further. Nor is there any real reason to suspect that they would not have submitted to the execution; or, at least, they may have submitted to start, but I can see where after a few minutes the crowd may have chosen to riot rather than allow more slaughter.

But that’s all by way of incidental. The real issue with Luke’s adaptation is the addition of the part with the kingdom. In the other two versions, the lord is simply going on a journey. In this version, the lord is going to accept a kingdom. And once again, I failed to catch the symbolism intended. Of course the lord is Jesus. And of course the kingdom is the kingdom of God. And of course he’s “going away” because he’s been crucified. And he came back because that’s what he’s promised to do. And now that he’s back, he’s settling accounts. Who’s done what with the gifts, or the commission, or the instructions, that they’ve been given? Of course, you all knew all of that. I, OTOH, well, not so much. As such, this is not the major deviation I had originally thought it was. It’s just an addition, sort of filling out the story in order to make the meaning more obvious. But then, people like me come along and completely miss this.

So what is the point? I think that this represents a reminder. We saw in Paul how the Second Coming was expected hourly, if not sooner. We saw how Mark and Matthew stepped away from that, with injunctions that no one knows the day and the hour except the father, so be ready, but don’t hold your breath. Now I think Luke is using this story to remind us that it is going to happen. Maybe not immediately, but it will. Perhaps he believed that the sense of urgency about the Return had waned a bit too much, so he decided that a bit of a warning might be in order. So, while not earth-shattering, it’s a change from Mark and Matthew.

Luke Chapter 19:28-40

That leads us into the story of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, now referred to as Palm Sunday. There are still five chapters left after this one, so I suppose I’m a bit surprised that it’s come up to this already. But the chapters of Luke tend not to be as long as they are in Matthew, or even some of those in Mark. What does this mean? Not sure. Perhaps nothing. So, since a long introduction to set the scene does not seem necessary, let’s get right on to the

Text

28 Καὶ εἰπὼν ταῦτα ἐπορεύετο ἔμπροσθεν ἀναβαίνων εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα.

29 Καὶ ἐγένετο ὡς ἤγγισεν εἰς Βηθφαγὴ καὶ Βηθανία[ν] πρὸς τὸ ὄρος τὸ καλούμενον Ἐλαιῶν, ἀπέστειλεν δύο τῶν μαθητῶν

30 λέγων, Ὑπάγετε εἰς τὴν κατέναντι κώμην, ἐν ἧ εἰσπορευόμενοι εὑρήσετε πῶλον δεδεμένον, ἐφ’ ὃν οὐδεὶς πώποτε ἀνθρώπων ἐκάθισεν, καὶ λύσαντες αὐτὸν ἀγάγετε.

31 καὶ ἐάν τις ὑμᾶς ἐρωτᾷ, Διὰ τί λύετε; οὕτως ἐρεῖτε ὅτι Ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ χρείαν ἔχει.

32 ἀπελθόντες δὲ οἱ ἀπεσταλμένοι εὗρον καθὼς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς.

33 λυόντων δὲ αὐτῶν τὸν πῶλον εἶπαν οἱ κύριοι αὐτοῦ πρὸς αὐτούς, Τί λύετε τὸν πῶλον;

34 οἱ δὲ εἶπαν ὅτι Ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ χρείαν ἔχει.

And having said these things, they came forward, climbing up to Jerusalem.

 The famous book by Xenophon, in which he describes the progress of the 10,000 Greek mercenaries upcountry to the Black Sea and back to Greece is the Anabasis. Here we have anabaino. Same verb, different tense.

(35) And it happened as they approached Bethpaige and Bethany, towards the mountain called Olives, he sent to of his disciples (30), saying “Go into the neighboring village in which we are entering, (and) you will find a colt tied up, upon which no one of men ever before has sat on, and loosening him lead him. (31) And if someone asks, ‘Why do you loosen (him)?’, answer thus: ‘The Lord has need of him’. (32) And those sent going forth they found (the situation) according to what he had told them. (33) They having loosed the colt, the lord (=owner) of it (the colt) said to them, “Why do you loose the colt?” (34) And they replied, “The lord has need of him.” 

OK. We discussed this at least once before, in conjunction with this story in either Mark or Matthew, or possibly both. The scene is described the way it is to give the reader the impression that Jesus was prescient, that he knew the colt was there because he knew everything. So he could describe the circumstances, could provide direction, and could predict the reaction of the owner of the colt. My suggestion is that Jesus made prior arrangements with the owner of the colt, and “The lord has need of him” was the code, the signal that they were the emissaries of Jesus, and the owner should comply as arranged. Then, once the disciples were asked the leading question, they replied in the prearranged signal and everything was copacetic. I will suggest pretty much the same thing when it comes time to arrange the Seder on Thursday evening.

As for the “colt”. The Greek word is ambiguous. It refers to a young member of the equine family. It could be the offspring of either a horse or a donkey. Of course, Jesus is always portrayed as riding a donkey. The intervening centuries, in which a gentleman is known in France as a chevalier, or in Spain as a caballero, or the group below the Senatorial class in Rome were known as equites, we have a certain snobbery about donkeys. The three words all refer to someone who owns a horse; that is, he has the wealth to maintain at least one horse. For those of you who don’t know, even today horses are very expensive animals to own and maintain. A lot of people in my social class who own horses make work-arrangements at a barn to reduce the cost of boarding the horse. A horse, in short, was a status symbol, even among the Romans. The equites are often referred to in English as knights; this is both accurate and not accurate. Like the equites, knights attained their status as knights by being able to own a horse. In fact, owing a horse was pretty much a sine qua non for being a knight. Given these centuries of snobbery about horse ownership, we see Jesus riding a donkey as a sign of humility. Well, maybe not. Donkeys are much less expensive than horses, and they are much hardier creatures, able to survive on a lower-level regimen of vegetation. They are better suited to stony, hilly terrain; the friars, the peons in Mexico owned burros, which are donkeys. Judea was not a terribly lush or fertile land, and even to own a donkey was a bit of a status symbol. In fact, Saul and David, kings, rode donkeys. That they were fictional underscores the prestige of a donkey. I mean, if you’re making up a glorious monarchy, why have them ride donkeys, and not horses? So the point is, Jesus riding a donkey, riding anything, is an indication of status and not humility. As for the part about never having been ridden, I suspect this adds to the prestige. So Jesus riding on this donkey, never before ridden, did not present an image of a humble individual.

28 Et his dictis, praecedebat ascendens Hierosolymam.

29 Et factum est, cum appropinquasset ad Bethfage et Bethaniam, ad montem, qui vocatur Oliveti, misit duos discipulos 

30 dicens: “Ite in castellum, quod contra est, in quod introeuntes invenietis pullum asinae alligatum, cui nemo umquam hominum sedit; solvite illum et adducite. 

31 Et si quis vos interrogaverit: “Quare solvitis?”, sic dicetis: “Dominus eum necessarium habet’ ”. 

32 Abierunt autem, qui missi erant, et invenerunt, sicut dixit illis. 

33 Solventibus autem illis pullum, dixerunt domini eius ad illos: “Quid solvitis pullum?”. 

34 At illi dixerunt: “Dominus eum necessarium habet”. 

35 καὶ ἤγαγον αὐτὸν πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν, καὶ ἐπιρίψαντες αὐτῶν τὰ ἱμάτια ἐπὶ τὸν πῶλον ἐπεβίβασαν τὸν Ἰησοῦν.

36 πορευομένου δὲ αὐτοῦ ὑπεστρώννυοντὰ ἱμάτια αὐτῶν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ.

37 Ἐγγίζοντος δὲ αὐτοῦ ἤδη πρὸς τῇ καταβάσει τοῦ Ὄρους τῶν Ἐλαιῶν ἤρξαντοἅπαν τὸ πλῆθος τῶν μαθητῶν χαίροντες αἰνεῖν τὸν θεὸν φωνῇ μεγάλῃ περὶ πασῶν ὧν εἶδον δυνάμεων,

38 λέγοντες, Εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου: ἐν οὐρανῷ εἰρήνη καὶ δόξα ἐν ὑψίστοις.

39 καί τινες τῶν Φαρισαίων ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄχλου εἶπαν πρὸς αὐτόν, Διδάσκαλε, ἐπιτίμησον τοῖς μαθηταῖς σου.

40 καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν, Λέγω ὑμῖν, ἐὰν οὗτοι σιωπήσουσιν, οἱ λίθοι κράξουσιν. 

And they led him to Jesus. And and casting their outer garments upon the colt, Jesus mounted it. (36) He proceeding forward, they spread their outer garments on the road. (37) He drawing nigh to the descent fro the Mount of Olives, the crowd of his disciples began rejoicing to praise God in a loud voice about which all knew, (38) saying, “Well-spoken of is the king coming in the name of the lord; in the sky (be) peace and glory to (those) the most high”. (39) And some of the Pharisees from the crowd said to him, “Teacher, rebuke your learners.” (40) And answering he said, “I tell you, if they became silent, the stones would shout.” 

Anyone notice anything missing? This is the story of Palm Sunday; so where are the palm branches? Also, the crowd does not shout “Hosanna”. On the whole, however, the three versions of this story that we’ve heard are very close in a lot of details. Matthew had the disciples bringing both a donkey and its (presumably) colt. And Matthew does state that the donkey was a symbol of humility since it was a beast of burden; however, Matthew conveys this to us in the guise of yet another prophecy to be fulfilled. I did some checking, and the quote Matthew delivered in this situation is a mash-up of a quatrain of Isaiah preceding four lines from Zechariah. This latter is very interesting, since these are the lines that contain the reference to the humility of the donkey. Zechariah is one of the last books of the HS; as such, the thoughts expressed about the relative humility of the donkey could have /would have been rather different from attitudes of a few centuries earlier. Riding horses, it turns out, is a fairly recent invention, due to factors that included the size of horses, the difficulty of training them to accept a rider, things like bits, reins, and saddles (note: stirrups appear to have been invented in China sometime in the 4-5th Century CE. They did not reach the west until sometime between the rule of Charles Martel and his grandson, Charlemagne.) Even the Assyrian Empire, the one that ended the independent existence of Israel, did not have a cavalry. The Persians, however, did. When Darius sent an expedition to invade Athens in 490, Herodotus goes to great lengths to describe the horse-transport ships that the Great King constructed especially for the occasion, because the cavalry was an important arm of the Persian army. Before that, an equid being ridden was likely a donkey, or an ass, or an onager, or perhaps a mule, but not a horse. So, back in the day, even kings rode donkeys. As a result, Zechariah, living a few centuries after the onset of cavalry, would have considered riding a donkey a sign of humility. Isaiah, who was pre-Persian Empire, perhaps not. 

The procession itself deserves a few words, even if we’re repeating things said about the previous versions. As with Mark, this procession seems to be composed almost entirely of Jesus’ followers. This was not the adulation of the great mass of the people of Jerusalem that it has come to be viewed. The scene in Jesus Christ Superstar has Simon Zealotes telling Jesus that there must be over 50,000 people “screaming love and more for you”. We really don’t get that impression from the description in any of the gospels we’ve read so far. A procession is, IMO, a far better description. Jesus is surrounded by his followers, who may be numerous, perhaps 100-200 people, but not much beyond that. That would be enough to annoy the Pharisees, but it would hardly constitute a mob. And even the interaction between Jesus and the Pharisee indicates a fairly modest crowd; how else could they have the exchange if the procession was more of a parade with vast numbers of people shouting? Here is an insight I’m reasonably sure you’ve never heard before. First of all, we need to work from the assumption that the whole episode is pure fiction. It was concocted to give credence to the idea that Jesus was killed because of his teaching. The Passion Narrative is great drama; it impressed the hell out of me even as a kid. In both Catholic and Episcopalian (High-ish Church, anyway) worship, the Passion is read on Palm Sunday and, IIRC, on Good Friday. As a kid, I loved hearing the whole thing. And that’s the point: it’s great drama. The proof that Jesus wasn’t killed because of his teaching is given by the fact that James, brother of Jesus, continued to lead the sect for two or three decades after Jesus was killed. Had Jesus been any kind of threat to any of the prevailing powers, James, Peter, and several dozen–or more–other followers would have been rounded up and executed along with him. Tacitus describes the vast number Christians rounded up and executed by Nero as a point of comparison. That didn’t happen with Peter and James, apparently. So anyway, within this made-up episode we have an exchange that would be difficult to pull off even in the circumstances of a crowd of a couple of hundred people. Think about the last time you were in a crowd of that size that is excited and animated. Communication is reduced to shouting. Yes, Jesus and the Pharisee could perhaps have shouted the exchange at each other, but the implausible factors are adding up. The point is that we have here a great display of why the gospels are not to be taken seriously as history. They are not. The exchange is True; it is not factually accurate. All of this is True. It’s Revealed Truth. It is not, and was never meant to be taken as factually accurate.

35 Et duxerunt illum ad Iesum; et iactantes vestimenta sua supra pullum, imposuerunt Iesum. 

36 Eunte autem illo, substernebant vestimenta sua in via. 

37 Et cum appropinquaret iam ad descensum montis Oliveti, coeperunt omnis multitudo discipulorum gaudentes laudare Deum voce magna super omnibus, quas viderant, virtutibus 

38 dicentes: “Benedictus, qui venit rex in nomine Domini! / Pax in caelo, et gloria in excelsis!”.

39 Et quidam pharisaeorum de turbis dixerunt ad illum: “ Magister, increpa discipulos tuos! ”. 

40 Et respondens dixit: “Dico vobis: Si hi tacuerint, lapides clamabunt! “.

Luke Chapter 19:11

Perhaps it goes without saying, but I did not set out with the intention of doing an entire post on a single verse. In fact, this was meant to go straight through to Verse 27; however, the comment on Verse 11 grew to the point that splitting it off seemed to be a wise move. I will include it with the next post as well, just for the sake of continuity.

So with that as a means of a (brief) introduction, let’s get to the

Text

11 Ἀκουόντων δὲ αὐτῶν ταῦτα προσθεὶς εἶπεν παραβολὴν διὰ τὸ ἐγγὺς εἶναι Ἰερουσαλὴμ αὐτὸν καὶ δοκεῖν αὐτοὺς ὅτι παραχρῆμα μέλλει ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ ἀναφαίνεσθαι.

They having heard these things he spoke an added parable, on account (of) being near to Jerusalem and it seemed to them that the kingdom of God was to be immediately apparent.

So after saying how a lot of commentary shouldn’t be required, immediately at the start we run into a really interesting statement and so we have to break for a comment. “For it seemed to them that the Kingdom of God was to be immediately apparent“. We can infer that those who heard these things were his immediate followers, those traveling with him. To refresh memories, this comes immediately after Jesus had said that salvation had come to the house of Zaccheus. The question then becomes, “why did they think that the Kingdom was to be immediately apparent?” Are we to assume it was related to the incident with Zaccheus? If it’s not thus connected, then what? Here’s something to bear in mind.

Luke is the first evangelist who had knowledge of Paul; at least, that is true if indeed Luke/Acts are from the same author. If we go back to some of Paul’s epistles, we should recall that in some of these, Paul was fully expecting the kingdom any day, or even at any hour. Did Luke infer that the early disciples felt that way as well? If Paul felt that way, why wouldn’t the original followers have shared that sense of imminence? Is that what we have here? Luke channeling Paul? Intriguing as I find the thought, it seems unlikely, but then why? To some degree it’s a question of how conscious Luke was when he wrote this. My first thought was that Luke may have gotten carried away, After reading Paul and the other two gospels, he may have drifted into authorial omniscience, where the writer knows what is happening and makes unsupported statements under the unquestioned assumption that the statement is simply self-evident, and so requires no explanation. I followed this line of argument for a fair distance down the rabbit-hole before realizing that the evidence was barely persuasive, let alone conclusive.

So what, then?

The aspect that most strikes me is the way that this sentence, or at least the second clause, sort of sticks our like the proverbial sore thumb. This is the part beginning with <<διὰ τὸ ἐγγὺς εἶναι>>, which I rendered as “on account of being near…” Then I looked at the grammar of the whole a bit more closely. “They having heard this” is a genitive absolute*, usually used to set up the circumstances while remaining more or less independent of the grammar of the rest of the sentence. That is, it can be removed without affecting how the remainder of the sentence operates. In this case, these are plural participles; hence translating as “they”. But “he” spoke the parable. The grammatical implication is that Jesus did this to some degree because “they”, presumably his followers, had done this hearing. Jesus speaking is a consequence, or even an effect of them hearing. But his decision to speak is also depending upon the proximity to Jerusalem. The preposition very clearly indicates a causal connexion; Jesus spoke specifically on account of, or due to the proximity to Jerusalem. The verb “to be” is an infinitive, which means there is no distinction to number, it’s neither singular nor plural; in English we would use a participle, “due to being near…” making it a statement of general conditions. But he also spoke because it seemed to them that the kingdom was approaching, so we’re back to the mental state of the followers. In short, the last part of this sentence is a bit of a jumble.

The conclusion I draw from this is that, at least, the last part of the sentence is a marginal gloss that became incorporated into the body of the text. That is, it was a note that someone scribbled in the margin of the manuscript as an explanatory note to himself, or to other readers that some subsequent scribe, perhaps copying a manuscript he could not read all that well, took the note to be an integral part of the text. I don’t offer this suggestion lightly, but perhaps I am not to be taken too seriously on this point. Arguing about the incorporation of glosses requires a degree of knowledge of Greek that is beyond mine. I can provide my general impression of the text, and how it seems to me that this is likely a gloss, but I cannot construct a truly persuasive argument. Bear in mind, however, that I have encountered this many times with Classical/pagan authors, so I am not completely unfamiliar with how this works. Bear in mind also that the incorporation of glosses does occur. In fact, I recently (within the last 5-10 years) read that the discovery of an early fragment of Isaiah showed that several sentences had been added to the text, likely as the result of a marginal gloss becoming incorporated into the body of the text. So it was much more than a random sentence like we have here. So this does happen, even with biblical texts. And at the risk of offending, it seems to me that biblical scholarship is much less likely to raise the question of incorporated glosses than academics working on pagan texts. This has been my criticism of biblical scholarship for some time: since most of them come from a theological/divinity background, the critical thinking has been blunted overmuch. This is how we got Q, after all. Too few people are willing to grasp the nettle and argue that Q is completely unsubstantiated.

So we have the assessment of a later copier who believes that it seems to the followers of Jesus that the kingdom is becoming apparent. Now let’s stop and ask how this fits in with other parts of the gospel. Recall that back in Chapter 17, not that long ago, Jesus told the Pharisees that the Kingdom of God is among/within you. Do these two statements contradict each other? Or, if they aren’t explicitly contradictory in the sense of being mutually exclusive, do they tell a consistent story? Or, perhaps more accurately, do they describe a consistent theology? On the face of it, I would say not. Yes, there are ways to square the circle, and to take the specific words in figurative ways so that they do not actually say what they seem to say at first glance. And there is nothing wrong with doing this, I have no quarrel about doing this. In fact, I advocate taking the words as symbolic, referring to a Truth that is not necessarily factually accurate. But let’s ask what those hearing the message as preached by Luke & his brethren would think, how they would take what was said. If this gospel were being read, hearing several chapters in one sitting would hardly be a stretch. So it’s entirely conceivable that people could have heard “the kingdom is within/among you” and “it seemed to them that the kingdom was imminent” within the space of an hour or so. How would this have struck our hypothetical listener?

That is an interesting question. I suspect it would be confusing, because I find it a tad confusing; however, I’m looking at it from a theological point of view, and I’m expecting a consistent message. The relatively close juxtaposition does make very clear the extent to which what became Christian theology was created on a very ad hoc basis. No one sat down and explained this theology only after having thought this through and worked to create a consistent message based on a consistent view of what the term “Kingdom of God/the heavens/heaven” meant. No one came up with that definition and then crafted a text to explain that definition in clear, non-ambiguous language. Prior to starting this blog, I had sort of done some semi-casual, semi-serious reading of the NT, and had sort of tried to work through what it actually said. This proved to be a very unsatisfying exercise, and it is one of the primary reasons I undertook this undertaking of translating and commenting on the NT; the underlying purpose was to figure out just exactly what the thing says. And the farther I’ve gone, the more I realize that my initial impression was accurate: it is confusing, it is inconsistent, and it says a lot of different things at a lot of different times. This gives me a new appreciation for what specifically became the Roman Church, because I have a better appreciation of what Augustine and the rest were up against when they had to refute ideas that became deemed heretical. In fact, they had to invent that term. It also explains why the Roman Church has never been super keen on just anyone reading the Bible, which, in turn, helps explain why they resisted having the Bible translated into vernacular language. If it were left in Latin, a lot of people could not read it, and that was considered a good thing. Otherwise, letting just anyone read the darn thing could–and did–lead to a lot of people getting a lot of different ideas. By keeping a monopoly on Scripture, the Roman Church, and the Roman Church alone, could decide what it said. That way, you didn’t get people reading Mark’s Chapter 1 and deciding that Jesus was Adopted at that point. Nor did you get people reading Luke 19:9 and deciding that we can merit our salvation. 

 

*Latin does the same thing, but the case used is the ablative rather than the genitive. In fact, the ablative absolute is a fundamental aspect of Latin grammar & rhetoric. Below it comes to <<illis audientibus>>, “they having heard“. As an aside, of the Indo-European languages I’ve studied (a list limited to Greek, Latin, and the rudiments of German), Latin is the only one to have an ablative case. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ve never attempted to research this question.

11 Haec autem illis audientibus, adiciens dixit parabolam, eo quod esset prope Ierusalem, et illi existimarent quod confestim regnum Dei manifestaretur.