Over the sixty years or so of the existence of the SNTS, Presidential Addresses have varied considerably, in both scope and content. Some have been given on very narrowly focused detailed topics; others have been more expansive and wide-ranging. One such notable Presidential Address in recent years was that of Professor Wayne Meeks in Barcelona in 2004, with the title ‘Why Study the New Testament?’Footnote 1 I cannot match Meeks' erudition or breadth of learning, but, for better or worse, I have ventured to prepare something along similar lines.
Meeks started his address by referring to the constitution of the Society, which states that ‘its aim shall be the furtherance of New Testament studies’. (An amendment at the Barcelona meeting added the word ‘internationally’ to this statement of the Society's (sole!) aim.) He then went on to raise the question of ‘why’ such studies should be furthered. Part of Meeks' point was that such a question would in the past have been regarded as one that barely needed serious thought to be answered adequately or appropriately: the answer was ‘obvious’. However, in the early twenty-first century, such blithe optimism is no longer possible. The question I would like to address is similar in one way to Meeks' question, but slightly different (though, as I shall take it, it does overlap with it). It is simply ‘What is New Testament study’; and how does the work of our Society, which takes its name from such endeavour,Footnote 2 relate to such activity?
1. What is ‘New Testament Study’?
In one way the answer to such a question is transparently obvious: ‘New Testament study’ is study of the documents of the New Testament; and even if there may be some doubt about what precisely constitutes ‘the New Testament’ – and certainly there have been debates in the past about the precise limits of this collection of texts – such details probably do not affect things in a significant way.
Yet this (apparently) ‘obvious’ answer to the question does not fully match the work of our Society. It is true that a great deal of the work undertaken under the auspices of the Society (papers presented at annual meetings, the subjects of the seminar groups at annual meetings, and articles published in ‘our’ journal New Testament Studies) would come under such a rubric. But, equally, other things would not. We have papers, even Presidential Addresses, on e.g. Philo, 4 Maccabees, the Didache, Nag Hammadi texts etc.; we have too papers and seminars about Jesus, even though Jesus wrote none of the texts of the New Testament; and we discuss not only the evidence from the New Testament texts about Jesus and earliest Christianity, but also evidence from non-canonical sources (Josephus, Tacitus, the Gospel of Thomas etc.). Indeed, quite apart from full-scale stand-alone treatments of texts and topics such as these, it would be accepted by all that some (considerable) knowledge of non-canonical texts (such as Qumran, Josephus, Plutarch, Thucydides etc.) is a sine qua non for any contemporary discussion of NT texts themselves. If we are to place the NT texts within their broader social, cultural, linguistic and ideological context, it is essential that we pay attention to other texts of the period in which they were written, whether canonical or non-canonical. In this sense, any kind of ‘canonical criticism’ which claims that methodologically one must focus on other ‘biblical’ texts as the only legitimate comparator, and context, for analysing NT texts has not often found a place within modern NT studies.Footnote 3
So what exactly is ‘the study of the New Testament’ which this Society is seeking to promote? It is clearly study of more than just ‘the New Testament’, even when the NT texts form the primary focus of attention. I would however like to raise initially a slightly different question: how are we to study, or how should we be studying, this material? And as one set of alternatives, I have in mind the distinction which is sometimes evoked in various ways under the rubric of ‘Theology’ versus ‘Religious Studies’. How does our work in this Society relate to that?
As soon as one raises the issue, there are thorny, and much disputed, problems of definition, before one even begins to try to address the question. What exactly is ‘Theology’ in this context? What is ‘Religious Studies’? And as the two are often paired as almost binary opposites, what exactly is the nature of the distinction between them? There are no clear right/wrong answers to these questions (which in turn makes it difficult to determine where ‘New Testament Studies’ might fit within such a divide). Like all language, each of those terms may well mean different things in what are at times very diverse social, educational, institutional and cultural contexts in different countries and indeed within a single country.Footnote 4 So if I take the words concerned one way, I am fully aware that this may not command universal agreement and that others might use the terms in different ways.
One, perhaps simplistic, way in which the terms are used (at least in the English of some parts of the UK (my own home context)) is by distinguishing the subject matter being studied: ‘Theology’ is taken to refer to study of Christianity, ‘Religious Studies’ to refer to study of religions and religious traditions other than Christian.Footnote 5 (Although by a strange quirk, study of ancient Judaism, i.e. the ‘Hebrew Bible’ or ‘Old Testament’, is usually placed on the ‘Theology’ side of the great divide!)Footnote 6
However, I am not sure that this is quite what was intended when the discipline of ‘Religious Studies’Footnote 7 was founded, or when its status is discussed today. For many others, the distinction lies in the point of view of the person doing the study, not the subject matter studied. Thus ‘Theology’ is taken as study (usually of Christianity) from a point of view of positive religious commitment; ‘Religious Studies’ is study that is religiously neutral and undertaken from an avowedly non-committed (though perhaps ‘interested’, and hence sympathetic) standpoint. ‘Theology’ thus requires the commitment of the student to the subject matter, expecting positive assent to at least some of the ‘theology’ of the writers being studied; ‘Religious Studies’ is purely phenomenological, and makes no value judgements either way about the truth claims of what is said in the texts.Footnote 8 However, both these ‘descriptions’ (i.e. ‘Theology’ as committed, ‘Religious Studies’ as neutral) may be somewhat misleading, and are disputed by many at various levels.
From the side of ‘Religious Studies’, some have argued that the discipline has failed to live up to its fundamental aims and principles. Thus Wiebe, in a famous essay, refers to the ‘failure of nerve’ on the part of practitioners of Religious Studies, partly by effectively allowing some kind of ‘religious’ belief component in by the back door in studies of ‘religious’ phenomena.Footnote 9 If students of a religious tradition empathise with the tradition enough to allow the presence of some ‘sacred’ element and/or entity in the phenomena under investigation, and thereby exclude all totally intra-human (‘reductionist’) explanations of the phenomena, then a quasi-‘religious’ commitment has been smuggled into the system and one cannot claim any longer to be strictly neutral, or ‘scientific’, in one's investigations.Footnote 10 But from almost the opposite side, others (from within an avowedly ‘Religious Studies’ paradigm) have questioned whether a refusal to accommodate an ‘insider's’ perspective is necessarily a good thing for anyone seeking to understand aspects of a ‘religion’ or a religious tradition.Footnote 11
From the side of ‘Theology’, there might be different, but nonetheless very real, questions to raise about a ‘definition’ as proposed above, at least as the name of an academic discipline. In some institutions (‘seminaries’ in a broad sense) an explicitly ‘committed’ religious stance is indeed a prerequisite. However, many other institutions where ‘Theology’ is studied would not overtly demand that students or teachers be religiously committed. Indeed, many would explicitly require that any such prerequisite must be positively excluded (certainly if deemed to be ‘necessary’ in any way).Footnote 12 The subject matter of study may well be the religious commitment of others, and often others within the Christian tradition. But it is of others, not of oneself: one is studying not perhaps ‘theology’ but the history of ‘theology’.Footnote 13 Such study can then be just as ‘phenomenological’ in its approach as similar study of Jewish or Islamic writers or Buddhist philosophers. In terms of Anselm's famous terminology, ‘Theology in this sense is not “faith seeking understanding” but rather “understanding” “faith seeking understanding”’;Footnote 14 and in this, an alleged approach of ‘Theology’ may be very similar to one of ‘Religious Studies’.Footnote 15 This might then be particularly the case in relation to the more ‘historical’ disciplines within the broad umbrella term of ‘Theology’, including NT studies.Footnote 16
Within the discipline of ‘New Testament Studies’, too, the word ‘theology’ can be, and is, used in a number of different ways – at times slightly bewilderingly. It can, for example, (simply) refer to the subject matter being investigated. Study of ‘the theology of Paul’, or ‘the theology of the NT’, is at one level study of the ‘theological’ (usually very broadly taken) ideas of Paul, the NT writers, or whoever.Footnote 17 But the word ‘theology’ can also be used to refer to the stance of the modern scholar, so that ‘New Testament theology’ is taken as an approach to the text from a position of positive religious (almost always Christian) commitment.Footnote 18 But this raises the question whether in order to undertake study of ‘theology’ (of the NT, of Paul or whoever) in the first sense one has to adopt a stance of ‘theology’ in the second sense with a personal commitment to the subject matter. Can one ‘really’ ‘understand’ someone like Paul if one does not share some of his core beliefs?
The issue is not unrelated to Krister Stendahl's famous distinction between determining ‘what a text meant’ and ‘what a text means’, with the claim that it is the biblical scholar's duty primarily to determine (as far as possible) the former and not the latter.Footnote 19 Stendahl's views have been heavily criticised, partly on the basis of claims to the effect that no interpreter can ‘really’ understand what a text meant without some idea of what it means. The act of interpretation entails the existential involvement of the interpreter quite as much as the text; strictly neutral, uninvolved interpretation is simply not possible.Footnote 20
However, while accepting that a strictly neutral, uninvolved stance on the part of any interpreter may be impossible,Footnote 21 I am not convinced that any ‘existential involvement’ has to be positive and (‘religiously’) affirming of (some or all of) the subject matter being interpreted in order to do justice to the material under consideration. ‘Existential involvement’ need not mean ‘positive religious commitment implying agreement with what is said’.Footnote 22 Such a stance is not, as far as I am aware, adopted in any other field of academic study. I do not have to be a believer in Stoic philosophy to be qualified to undertake descriptions of, and perhaps critical engagement with, the views of ancient Stoic philosophers. (If this were a necessary precondition, the circle of those studying ancient Stoicism might be quite small!). And the same goes for study of Josephus, Thucydides, Nazi ideology, bipolar disorder or Buddhist philosophy. It is surely not impossible in principle to provide a fully ‘sympathetic’ description of ‘what a text meant’, while also making a value judgement that ‘what it means’ in the present is nothing at all of any positive value. I can hopefully describe Stoic ideas, or seek to untangle Gnostic mythologies (perhaps too trying to understand what has led their ‘authors’ to develop such ideas in the first place), and enter into the social and ideological world of their adherents (insofar as this is possible given the distance in time), while at the same time refusing to affirm most (if not all) of their views myself.Footnote 23 We do not have to agree with texts we study in order to interpret them and understand them. ‘It is altogether possible to understand and to say no.’Footnote 24
Indeed it is precisely this kind of negative (‘theological’) value judgement that has often had a place even within some kind of ‘theological’ interpretations of the NT, notably in the work of ‘theological’ interpreters (and former SNTS Presidents!) such as Rudolf Bultmann or Ernst Käsemann. Both clearly had in one way a vested theological interest in affirming the truth claims of some parts of the NT. But equally, both were also highly critical of other parts.Footnote 25
Yet the issue of the religious commitment (or otherwise) of an interpreter of the NT is only one side of the fence. All our interpretations involve the production of a ‘text’ of our own, whether written or oral. And every text that is received involves a ‘reader’ as well as an author. Thus our interpretations of texts, insofar as they themselves are in turn new ‘texts’, involve others as those who read what we write and/or listen to what we say. Interpretation is an enterprise involving both speakers and hearers, writers and readers. Thus the issue of how far we can/should be (explicitly)Footnote 26 ‘theological’ (i.e. religiously committed) in our work may depend quite as much on our intended (‘implied’) audience as on ourselves alone. The context in which we undertake study of the NT may thus have a critical bearing on what is appropriate and/or desirable for those who write.Footnote 27
Who our intended readers and/or audience are will vary from person to person, and (insofar as we may operate within different institutions) from one institution to another.Footnote 28 In his 2004 Presidential address, Meeks argued that it had often been assumed without question that ‘our’ primary audience (‘we’ being members of SNTS and/or the guild of NT interpreters) were clergy, ministers, or certainly Christians. I wonder if that was the case then, whether it is the case now, and perhaps above all whether it should be the case (which is not quite the same thing). Certainly many of ‘us’ do operate within an ‘ecclesiastical’, or ‘confessional’, institutional setting, and that is perfectly possible, legitimate and appropriate. And within such a setting, it is then not unreasonable to presume that our audience is confessionally aligned. But that only applies in some instances. In other instances, any explicit institutional confessional alignment is explicitly ruled out of court.Footnote 29 In such instances, our own confessional alignment is of course possible: if freedom of thought is enjoined, I am free to be confessional! But we cannot necessarily presume that our audience will share the same confessional commitment. And we have no right to do so.
Above all, I would suggest, this applies in the case of this Society. There is nothing in the Society's Constitution which mentions religious commitment at all. The name of the Society refers to ‘study’ of the NT; the overall aim of the Society is simply the ‘furtherance of New Testament studies internationally’. Nothing more is said. The one point at which more might be said is the conditions for membership; but the Constitution simply refers to the necessity for a potential new member to be proposed by two existing members, and the criteria mentioned include reference simply to ‘a high standard of scholarship’, academic degrees and/or scholarly publications. There is no mention in the Constitution of the religious affiliation (Christian or otherwise) of the Society itself, or of any possible members.Footnote 30 Our Society is not, and should not be, a Christian enclave. It is one where ‘study’ is primary (and our sole constitutional ‘aim’); but such study is ‘international’, both in terms of geography, ethnicity and religious commitment. Thus, while religious commitment on the part of individuals within the Society is neither surprising nor in the slightest sense reprehensible, we cannot assume that all others within our Society share the religious commitments which any one of us might hold. There have been, and hopefully will continue to be, Christian, Jewish, agnostic and atheist members of the SNTS.Footnote 31 We can, and many of us do, present papers, write articles and produce arguments from a specifically religious standpoint; but within this Society we should not presume such a viewpoint is necessarily shared by any readership or audience within the Society. Our implied readership must remain international and potentially untied to any particular religious faith group.Footnote 32
In many respects, none of this is new. The distinctions referred to here were already under debate at the start of the twentieth century in discussions about the nature and task of New Testament Theology. I presume everyone here will pick up the (deliberate) echo of the title of William Wrede's epoch-making essay.Footnote 33 In that essay, Wrede argued that study of ‘(so-called) New Testament Theology’ should be replaced by a ‘History of Early Christian Religion’. The debate associated with Wrede's name has continued ever since, with arguments and debates about the appropriateness or otherwise of ‘theological’ approaches to the NT.
In more recent discussions, the names associated particularly with championing a Wrede-style approach have included Heikki Räisänen, with his programmatic suggestions about going ‘Beyond New Testament Theology’,Footnote 34 as well as the works of those such as Berger, Theissen, Zeller and others.Footnote 35 The issue has provoked considerable debate and discussion. There may be debate about how far such an exercise is intended to replace the writing of synthesising works entitled ‘New Testament Theology’, and how far it is intended to affect all NT exegesis.Footnote 36 But insofar as ‘New Testament Theology’ refers to a ‘discipline’ (cf. above), and the overall perspective of the exegete (rather than to the subject matter of the study in question), that would refer to NT exegesis more widely.
But if there is any justification in the suggestion that, at least within this Society, a non-confessional approach is more appropriate within our own ‘title deeds’, it may be worth reminding ourselves of some of the specific ways in which a Wrede-like exercise might be distinguished from a more ‘theological’ approach. One of the most important is the insistence that a study of early Christianity should not remain tied to the limits of the canon:Footnote 37 a ‘History of Christian Religion’ approach should be ready and open to include discussion of all documents and evidence, canonical or non-canonical, from early Christianity.Footnote 38 Thus the question of ‘how’ we study the NT may determine also ‘what’ we study.
In several ways, the canonical nature of the NT texts cannot be ignored. The very fact that these texts were (subsequently) taken as part of a ‘canon’ of ‘scripture’ of a major world religion has meant that they have been read, and now studied, far more widely and extensively than other texts of the time, even other Christian texts. In terms of modern scholarship, the secondary literature which these texts have generated is now enormous and far greater than for any other contemporary texts.Footnote 39 Similarly, the fact that these texts were canonised has meant that they were copied in antiquity far more frequently than non-canonical texts; hence the manuscript evidence for them is far more extensive and complex than for non-canonical texts. Equally, the ‘history of influence’ of these texts is correspondingly far more extensive than other texts: by virtue of being canonical, the biblical texts have influenced others – and broader society – in ways that are far greater than is the case with other Christian texts from roughly the same period. Whatever our own view of the rights or wrongs of (later) ecclesiastical decisions which led to the canonising of this body of Christian literature as part of a ‘New Testament’, the very fact that it happened is something which cannot be ignored.Footnote 40
On the other hand, there are strong grounds for not allowing these decisions to be too determinative! The reasons for adopting an approach of methodological ‘blindness’ to the limits of the NT canon are scarcely novel. Any decisions about the precise boundaries of the NT canon are relatively late in relation to the writing of the NT texts themselves. ‘No New Testament writing was born with the predicate “canonical” attached.’Footnote 41 The early Christians of course had a widely accepted body of ‘scripture’, i.e. the Jewish scriptures.Footnote 42 Whether the new Christian movement in the first century (or anyone in it at the time) ever thought that this would, and/or should, be expanded by the addition of further, new ‘Christian’ texts is surely highly debatable. No doubt various individuals within the earliest Christian movement believed that some things said, or written (in the case of Paul), carried authority and were to be taken very seriously.Footnote 43 But whether anyone thought that such claims to a level of ‘authority’ implied that the authority in question was comparable to that of (Jewish) scripture is surely very doubtful.Footnote 44
As already noted, it is widely accepted within NT scholarship today that one must take seriously the evidence of other ancient texts, whether they are scriptural or not. It is standard orthodoxy now to take fully into account evidence available to us from Qumran, Philo, Josephus, and other Jewish texts, as well as numerous non-Jewish texts, as providing us with evidence for the broader thought-world in which the NT texts were written and which is essential if we are to make sense of them.
But what of the place of non-canonical Christian literature in this context? How far can/should we take note of this material in ‘study of the NT’ and how is our understanding of the NT texts, and/or of Christian origins, affected by such a broader perspective? As one who has devoted a considerable period of time over a ‘scholarly’ career investigating non-canonical texts (Q, non-canonical gospels, apostolic fathers etc.), it may be appropriate for me to consider in the second half of this paper what contribution such texts might make to so-called ‘New Testament Studies’ and our understanding of NT texts.
2. The New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature
There are a number of reasons why we might wish to study non-canonical early Christian texts alongside those of the NT. Sometimes it seems all too easy to dismiss the value of such texts as all ‘late’ (relatively!), or ‘Gnostic’, or theologically trivial and/or worthless.Footnote 45 In some contexts, of course, such decisions might be appropriate;Footnote 46 in other contexts, such value judgements might appear less convincing.
– At one level we can study such texts simply ‘because they are there’. Intellectual curiosity, for its own sake, is still a valuable commodity!
– We can study such texts bearing in mind that the very fact that they were not made canonical has meant that they have aroused far less interest, both in antiquity and in modern study (cf. above). Hence they offer potential for perhaps new insights and new findings in a way that canonical texts, which as such have been pored over in minute detail for centuries, may not.
– They may also enable us to place the NT texts into a broader context – not only a broader Jewish, or Greco-Roman, context, but also a broader Christian context. This may then enable us to see more clearly what key issues for early Christians may have been (and which may not be the same as those which interest us!) And in such an exercise, the NT texts may emerge as typical within early Christianity in some respects, perhaps rather atypical in others.
– Insofar as some (many?) of the non-canonical texts presuppose, and reflect on, NT texts, they represent part of the ‘history of influence’ of the NT. As such they throw light on the ways in which some early readers of NT texts read them (whether as scriptural or not); and this in turn may highlight for us possibilities in reading NT texts which we might otherwise miss.Footnote 47
– Non-canonical texts may also give us a valuable insight into the rich variety of early Christian piety and ‘religious’ life and thought.Footnote 48
If we do extend the range of ‘New Testament Studies’ to encompass ‘early Christian writings’ outside the NT, how do we define ‘early’? One can put a specific terminus ad quem on texts to be considered. However, any such date is both arbitrary and also difficult to enforce, partly because any proposed dividing line will inevitably be artificial, partly because so many of the texts in question cannot be dated accurately.Footnote 49 Further, we have to distinguish between texts, manuscripts and traditions. Clearly no actual manuscript of any early Christian text, canonical or non-canonical, dates from the first century. All manuscripts, including those for NT texts, are quite a bit later. The date of composition of many texts is uncertain. Further, we might well be interested in some texts, not just for the texts themselves, but also for possible earlier traditions which they might contain.Footnote 50 Clearly for the present purposes, some kind of cut-off, either in terms of kinds of text, or perhaps in terms of date, is desirable if one is to keep any discussion within manageable limits. Certainly if one is considering the ‘history of influence’ of NT texts, the field is almost infinite without some restrictions.
In what follows, I consider aspects of some ‘Jesus traditions’ and also Paul, taking into account other texts and traditions which might date from roughly the first two centuries ce, though I am aware that the datings may be questionable, and even within this timeframe one cannot provide a comprehensive coverage.
There are here a number of different types of evidence which can come into consideration. There are extant texts, which could have claims to be relatively early, or to contain early traditions, and hence might illuminate our knowledge and understanding of the earliest Christian movement. In this category might be some of the texts of the so-called ‘Apostolic Fathers’,Footnote 51 as well as other non-canonical texts such as the Gospel of Thomas.Footnote 52 Other texts might include those which are not extant,Footnote 53 but whose existence might be deduced from other evidence.Footnote 54 In other instances, we might have no actual texts at all, explicit or implicit. However, there might be streams of thought, or ideas or people within ‘early Christianity’ who have not left any written record, but whose activity and influence were evidently real and significant. For example, there are the people with whom Paul engages in his Corinthian letters or in Galatians. Paul's ideas and ‘theological’ utterances are worked out in conversation, or ‘dialogue’, with others. Within the guild of ‘NT studies’, we focus frequently on Paul; should we perhaps focus as much on Paul's ‘dialogue’ partners?Footnote 55
2.1 Jesus TraditionFootnote 56
It is well known that the main texts in the NT comprising ‘Jesus traditions’, viz. the four gospels, form only a small part of a much wider body of such texts. Some of these texts are extant (other ‘gospels’, or texts claiming to be ‘gospels’, e.g. in their titles),Footnote 57 whether as full texts or in fragmentary form. Others we do not have, but their existence is evidenced from quotations by later Church Fathers. Further, evidence from some ‘gospels’ we have might suggest the existence of sources used by later writers.Footnote 58
It is widely agreed that, although these texts purport to give information about Jesus, most of them are probably historically worthless for that purpose.Footnote 59 Nevertheless, ever since Wrede's work on the messianic secret in Mark,Footnote 60 we have realised that ‘gospel’ texts (including canonical gospel texts) may not always tell us so much, if anything, about the historical Jesus, but they do tell us about aspects of early Christianity (whether the evangelists themselves or earlier traditions and sources that they used). I turn then briefly to Q.
2.1.1 Q
Issues about Q are well known. It is widely (though not unanimously) agreed that agreements between Matthew and Luke which are not explicable as due to dependence on Mark are due to their use of common earlier tradition(s), commonly referred to as Q. It is also agreed by many (though not all) that Q may have been a single written text.Footnote 61 For some, the importance of Q lies in its very early date (ipso facto it must be earlier than Matthew and Luke), and hence the possible access it might provide to give us reliable information about Jesus and Jesus' teaching. I have discussed this elsewhere, as indeed have others. Suffice it to say here that, just as the earliest extant gospel (Mark) does not necessarily give us immediate access to the historical Jesus, the same is almost certainly true of Q. The Jesus tradition in Q has already been mediated by early Christian communities, and we cannot simply equate Q (or even ‘early Q’, a Q1) with the historical Jesus without remainder.Footnote 62
Thus many recent studies have attempted to apply a ‘redaction-critical’ approach (very broadly speaking) to Q to identify a possible distinctive and/or characteristic outlook and/or ‘theology’ of Q. Although such attempts have been heavily criticised by some, it is in my view a justifiable approach to adopt, and indeed one in which possible answers might affect our understanding of early Christianity in a significant way.
Several aspects of Q are then striking. I focus here on one feature: the absence of a passion narrative in Q. It is widely agreed (by those who accept the Q hypothesis in some shape or form) that Q contained no passion narrative. This does not necessarily imply that Q had no interest in the death of Jesus. But any such interest is rather differently configured from what is perhaps implied and/or presupposed in the canonical gospels. It may also be rather different from the strong focus which emerges from many other NT writings, especially the letters of Paul and (at least some of) the canonical gospels.Footnote 63 It is very unlikely that the death of Jesus was ignored by Q. Sayings such as Q 14.27 suggest that the compiler(s) of Q was/were fully aware of the fact of Jesus' death on a cross.Footnote 64 Further, it would be surprising if Q did not make some attempt to ‘explain’ this in some way: there is not necessarily a full-blown theology of atonement; but there is a schema whereby the ‘suffering’, or ‘persecution’, endured by followers of Jesus is placed in a wider context and seen as part of the suffering and violence experienced by a whole series of God's prophetic messengers in the past (cf. Q 6.23; 11.49; 13.34). As part of this, it is highly likely that Q placed the death of Jesus in that same series of acts of violence suffered by prophets. The death of Jesus is thus ‘interpreted’ in one way, in that it is placed in an interpretative framework, seeking to make some kind of sense within a broader ‘theological’ perspective; but it is not apparently ‘vicarious’: it is not so clear that it is ‘for us’ in the way that e.g. Paul claims.Footnote 65 It seems that Q makes sense of Jesus' death in terms that relate to the past suffering of Israel's prophets as well as to its present (some kind of on-going ‘suffering’ and ‘persecution’ being endured by Jesus' followers).
2.1.2 Other ‘gospel’ texts
A very similar phenomenon arises in relation to a number of other non-canonical ‘gospel’ texts. As with Q, it is striking how little interest these texts appear to show in the death of Jesus.Footnote 66 The canonical gospels' intense focus on the passion narratives (to a greater or lesser extent present in all four gospels), leading to Kähler's famous description of them as ‘passion narratives with extended introductions’,Footnote 67 scarcely applies if one look beyond the (later) limits of the NT canon.
The group of non-canonical ‘gospel’ texts is by no means a uniform one: such texts form a very ‘mixed bag’. Some are in some sense ‘G/gnostic’, or stemming from ‘G/gnostic’ groups.Footnote 68 Gnostic interpretations of the death of Jesus were very varied, though there is little evidence that much intrinsic significance was read into the death itself. Partly as a reflection of that, Gnostic texts which claim to provide information about Jesus often focus on the period after Jesus' death to report teaching allegedly given (usually to a chosen inner circle) by the risen Jesus. They are ‘resurrection dialogues’.Footnote 69 As such, they provide little or no ‘passion narrative’,Footnote 70 nor indeed much evidence that their authors laid any positive stress on Jesus' death.
The situation is similar with the ‘infancy gospels’, where the focus of attention is Jesus' birth and childhood. Here, over the course of time, a rich flowering of texts was produced.Footnote 71 But again, there is no explicit interest in any narrative account of the death of Jesus, let alone an attempt to make theological sense of it.
Among possibly early texts, one exception in this respect is the Gospel of Peter which, in the section of the text which survives, has a version of a passion – and resurrection – narrative.Footnote 72 There is then a focus here on the story of the death of Jesus. But just as the canonical gospels give at most only small, occasional hints about any positive interpretation of the death of Jesus,Footnote 73 the same applies even more to the Gospel of Peter. There is little if any hint of positive significance shown in the death of Jesus here, and far more stress is given to Jesus' resurrection. In the account of the passion, there are of course a number of motifs, including the increased stress laid on Jewish involvement in, and/or responsibility for, the crucifixion.Footnote 74 But there is no hint of an idea of Jesus' death being in some way ‘beneficial’, let alone vicarious.
All this ties in with other evidence we have from the (relatively) early period of Christianity. In the writings of the Apostolic Fathers, Jesus tradition is sometimes mined, alluded to and occasionally ‘quoted’. However, the material most frequently cited, or alluded to, is that of the teaching of Jesus, usually in relation to ethics. This is certainly the case in texts such as the Didache, 2 Clement, 1 Clement etc. References to any details of a passion narrative are not frequent.Footnote 75 Further, although the fact of Jesus' death is important for someone such as Ignatius (arguing again possible ‘docetic’ opponents, cf. e.g. Trall. 10), there are only a few references to that death being ‘salvific’.Footnote 76
Against the background of our present NT, a text such as Q, containing exclusively Jesus traditions but no passion narrative, looks very unusual. Within the broader perspective of early Christianity, Q looks rather less idiosyncratic in this respect; and gospel texts such as Mark and John may appear slightly less typical than is sometimes thought.
2.2 Paul
Methodologically one could approach the general theme of ‘Paul and non-canonical literature’ in a number of different ways. One can, for example, ask how apocryphal, or non-canonical, literature has focused on the figure of Paul explicitly. This could be via an analysis of the ways in which Paul's name was adopted as the fictitious author in pseudonymous writings;Footnote 77 it could be via a consideration of the ways in which Paul has been explicitly referred to, and appealed to, as an authority, either in direct citations of his letters or in more general ways.Footnote 78 Alternatively, one could simply consider the way in which Paul's ideas might fit in with others writing on the same or similar topics in an ‘early’ period. I offer one brief example here (which may or may not be typical) of the last possibility, though also bringing in other aspects as well.
Paul's discussion of the resurrection of Christians has been much discussed. His indebtedness to Jewish language and ideas for the very notion of ‘resurrection’ is well known and well documented.Footnote 79 So too his (and others') somewhat distinctive claim about the resurrection of Jesus, as an ‘event’ which is both part of, but also chronologically separate from, the general resurrection of all, or all the righteous, is a well-known peculiarly Christian ‘mutation’ in Jewish expectations of resurrection. What though of the nature of the resurrection life to which Christians, according to Paul, can look forward?
Paul addresses this question explicitly in 1 Corinthians 15, a chapter which gives rise to enormous exegetical debates about many details. Further, it is uncertain whether Paul remained consistent throughout his letter-writing period in relation to his expectations about the future.Footnote 80 However, if one stays with 1 Corinthians 15, the picture is, in some respects at least, clear. Christians will indeed be ‘raised’. Further, this resurrection life, which remains future for all, will involve some kind of ‘body’: a life without a σῶμα is inconceivable for Paul. Yet it is clear from 1 Corinthians 15 that the body which will be the possession of Christians in the future resurrection life is not the same as the present physical body. This is the point of the discussion in vv. 35ff., to show that there are different kinds of ‘bodies’, and hence Paul seeks to justify his claim that the future (πνευματικός) body is not the same as the present (ψυχικός) body. Hence the conclusion in v. 51: ‘we shall not all die, but we shall all be changed’. The same is probably said in the preceding verse: ‘flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God’ (v. 50). Here, ‘flesh and blood’ probably refers to those who are living now;Footnote 81 and hence ‘flesh’ (and blood) is probably all but identical with the present physical body which will have to be surrendered and which cannot participate in new resurrection life.Footnote 82
In striking contrast with this are the claims made by the author of 2 Clement. In 2 Clement 9, the author explicitly states: ‘Let none of you say that this flesh is not judged and does not rise again’ (9.1). The author is emphatic that resurrection life, which (like Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 at least) is assumed to be still future, will involve the same ‘flesh’ as present existence. Between this life and future resurrection life, there is no qualitative difference at all: ‘As you were called in the flesh, you shall also come in the flesh’ (9.4). Whether the author of 2 Clement knew Paul is debated.Footnote 83 But in any case, in relation to this issue, the writer of 2 Clement affirms precisely what Paul denies. Moreover, this is not something that one could explain as an off-the-cuff remark by either author: both make this issue the main one they are discussing. Nor is it a matter of different writers using the same word(s) (here σάρξ or σῶμα) in different ways: for Paul it is vital in his argument in 1 Corinthians 15 to assert discontinuity in the form of existence, the giving up of the present ‘body’ and receiving a new ‘body’; whereas for the writer of 2 Clement, the whole point of his argument is to assert continuity between this life and a life to come, with the same body involved in both.Footnote 84
One could of course dismiss the argument of 2 Clement as an ‘aberration’, a let-down from the canonical text and one which ‘mistakes’ the ‘true’ representation, i.e. that of Paul.Footnote 85 However, when one looks further afield within early Christianity, it is striking that it is not 2 Clement that seems to be the odd one out, but rather Paul.
The story has been told many times before.Footnote 86 But it is clear that a range of early writers align closely with the author of 2 Clement in insisting that the Christian hope for the future is indeed in the resurrection of the present ‘flesh’, or the present body in all its materiality. Certainly by the end of the second century, ‘resurrection’ had become the feature that is claimed to distinguish Christianity from other possible ‘competitors’.Footnote 87 Hence the apologists regularly seek to distance the Christian claims about resurrection from any ideas of the immortality of the soul.Footnote 88 So too it becomes a standard feature of Christian argument, seeking to make claims about resurrection ‘reasonable’, to appeal to analogies which are ‘in line’ with processes in the natural order: hence resurrection is ‘natural’ (and thereby ‘reasonable’ and credible) in being analogous to the process of day following night, or a plant emerging from a seed.Footnote 89 In one way, such appeals are similar to Paul's use of ‘seed’ language in 1 Cor 15.36, 42–4. However, the use made of the analogy is quite different in later writers: for Paul it is part of his argument to stress the discontinuity between the present ‘body’ and the future resurrection ‘body’; for later writers it is precisely to stress continuity and/or material identity.Footnote 90
In line with this, such arguments regularly and insistently seek to claim that resurrection will be of the present ‘flesh’ (or ‘body’) with no material change at all.Footnote 91 For Irenaeus, it was a key part of his argument against the Gnostics that denial of the resurrection of the flesh means denial of the value of God's creation;Footnote 92 and at one point he explicitly accuses his opponents of ‘perverting’ Paul's words in 1 Cor 15.50 (‘flesh and blood will not inherit the Kingdom of God’) as implying that ‘the handiwork of God is not saved’ (AH 5.9.1). The importance of the Christian claims specifically about resurrection of the flesh were thus seen as vital in guarding against other (Gnostic) claims questioning the value of the created order. Belief in resurrection (and not just in an immortality of a soul) was seen as an integral part of belief in the value of the creation.
On the other side, however, Irenaeus' claim about others' use of Paul's assertion in 1 Cor 15.50 is well illustrated by the Gospel of Philip. The writer of that gospel explicitly cites these words of Paul as part of his own argument that (at least one kind of) ‘flesh’ is not to be thought of as being raised (even though, somewhat confusingly, another type – the flesh of Jesus – is).Footnote 93 Paul may be rather closer to the Gospel of Philip in this respect than he is to other more ‘orthodox’ writers;Footnote 94 and certainly too Irenaeus and Tertullian have some difficulty in interpreting 1 Cor 15.50 themselves.Footnote 95
Whether strong affirmations about the resurrection of the flesh originate in the context of debates and arguments with Gnostics is uncertain. As noted already, such a claim is already present in Ignatius, arguing against some kind of ‘docetic’ claims,Footnote 96 and a similar situation may already be present in some of the NT resurrection stories as well.Footnote 97 Others have claimed that a context of martyrdom was very significant in the developing Christian claims about the resurrection of the present body in all its materiality,Footnote 98 as indeed a significant part of similar resurrection language developed within Judaism in such a context (cf. 2 Maccabees 7). On the other hand, it is notable that at least some of the debates do not reflect a specific context of martyrdom or threatening martyrdom.Footnote 99 But for whatever reason, it seems that many early Christian writers on resurrection show a significant level of discontinuity with Paul on this issue.
If then one asks who is the ‘odd one out’ on this issue, at least among those who became dominant within early Christianity, it seems to be Paul rather than the author of 2 Clement. Or rather, Paul's positive ‘influence’ in the subsequent history of influence of the text was not among the eventual ‘winners’ in any ecclesiastical political and/or religious disputes.
3. Concluding Unscientific (or Theological?) Postscript
What then are ‘we’ to do with such observations about aspects of early Christianity and/or the place of NT writers within that broader spectrum? The issues I have highlighted represent two instances where NT writers are not perhaps typical of a number of their (rough) contemporaries within early Christianity. But what do we do with such a result?
– We can note, perhaps even celebrate, the plurality and wide diversity of thought within ‘early’ Christianity on a number of issues.
– We could argue that the issues where diversity is apparent are relatively trivial and do not matter too much.
– We can rejoice in, or bemoan, the decisions about the canon which led to some writings, and hence some viewpoints, being canonised and others being effectively rejected. Hence we could welcome, or abhor, the decision that canonised Mark and John with their strong emphasis on the cross but did not canonise Q or Thomas, or the decision that canonised 1 Corinthians but not 2 Clement. But either way, if we do so, we should perhaps raise the question – why?
We might have differing views on the decision-making process itself in relation to the canon. We might decide that such a process was if not quite divinely inspired (and hence to be accepted whatever the actual decisions), then at least determined by the inherent quality of the NT texts themselves;Footnote 100 or we might decide that such a process was innately human, perhaps governed by ‘social’ and/or ‘political’ factors of the time (and hence the actual decisions could in principle be questioned). But if we address the results themselves, and make value judgements about them, whether positive or negative, we are presumably doing so on the basis of criteria that are external to the canonising process itself.Footnote 101 If we welcome, or question, a decision that e.g. accepts Mark but rejects Thomas, our very act of welcoming or questioning presupposes the use of criteria external to the canonising process as such, and more integrally related to the contents of the texts in question.
We are then driven inexorably to some kind of ‘canon within the canon’,Footnote 102 however we may wish to label it. And we may be driven to try to determine why individual Christian authors argued as they did, to seek to understand not only the surface claims made but also the possible underlying causes driving them, if we wish to make any assessment, or value judgement, about them. It does also mean that, in any such process, the NT texts themselves cannot ipso facto be exempt from possible (‘theological’) critique and questioning. Hence some kind of ‘Sachkritik’ is inevitable.
It is, I believe, partly for this reason that a focus wider than one simply on the NT texts alone, bringing into play the broad spread of early Christianity in all its diversity, is vital to the health of our discipline. It exposes us to the breadth of early Christian life and thought. As such, it may challenge us to think through, and to rethink, what might be our response to the claims made by these texts, whatever our background, our prior or current beliefs, or our ‘religious’ persuasions. And that is perhaps why the subject we are privileged to study here in this Society remains so fascinating and compelling.Footnote 103
