It all starts with **B A P T I S M** (3): Gospels on John the Baptist's death

WE ARE LOOKING at how we ended up toward the end of the first century with a strong Jewish-Christian leader deciding that the clearest way to ritualise baptism was in the threefold name (“in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”). We are exploring the impact of John the Baptist with regard to that hugely significant step.

In yesterday’s post, we saw that for Josephus, a Jewish historian of the first century, John was probably perceived to a similar degree of historical importance as Jesus. At the end, of that post, however, we discovered the awkward possibility that John may have been killed as late as 36 AD. I wondered initially if that really clashed with a New Testament position on Jesus and John or even whether it mattered all that much.

Well, I have to admit, it would definitely clash. Whether it matters, is a personal issue we all have to resolve and my method is to find the most likely path while still ensuring the New Testament authors receive the most credibility possible (as difficult as I find that at times with Matthew). So, that’s what I propose to do with you right now.

The date limits for Jesus’ crucifixion seem fairly firmly set at between 30-33 AD. The New Testament has John's imprisonment and execution before Jesus' crucifixion, but let's just have a quick look to see how that played out (using the MPH - Matthean Posteriority Hypothesis – ordering to which I subscribe, don’t worry if you don’t know what that means) to be sure:

Mark 6: No direct acknowledgement of John's death from Jesus

The whole event is in a "Markan Sandwich":

• Jesus' disciples go on mission
• Herod Antipas hears about this, but has had (funny tense required) John killed, duration of imprisonment not entirely clear, but might not have exceeded a year, given the event of John's execution being Antipas' birthday "party". John's disciples have buried John.
• Jesus' disciples feed back on mission, and it's time for a break, retreat.

However, John’s death is assumed by Mark in 8:28 (Jesus questioned by some to be a resurrection of John the Baptist), and at least imprisoned in 11:30 (John’s baptism: was it from heaven…?)

Luke: No direct acknowledgement of John's death from Jesus, but it is assumed.

Luke's relating of the Baptist's story is spread across several chapters.  

• Ch. 1: John's birth and naming
• Ch. 3: John's ministry and imprisonment
• Ch. 7: John's messengers sent to Jesus (presumably from his prison cell)
• Ch. 9: Herod has already killed John, and wants to see Jesus. But like in Mark, Jesus simply debriefs his disciples and they try to retreat for a break.
• Chapters 11, 16 and 20 refer to John's work in the past tense.

Matthew: Jesus knew of John's imprisonment and his death

Mat 4:12      “Now when Jesus heard that John had been imprisoned, he went into Galilee.”

Mat 14:12    “Then John's disciples came and took the body and buried it and went and told Jesus”.

Great! Thank goodness for that, Matthew clears it all up for us then! Josephus must have had a mix up about dating whole battles and stuff.

Only problem for me: I just don’t trust Matthew 100%. Remember for me, it’s “Love, Hate & Late” with this guy. I don’t want to get into it too much here, we’ll touch base with him again in our summary. Right now, let’s see what John is writing right at the end of the century about John’s death…

John: the Baptist slips from view

John (the writer of the fourth gospel)’s treatment of the Baptist is typical of his approach to Jesus as a whole. Jesus is the focus and spotlight. That means that other significant characters, like John the Baptist, don’t necessarily need to have their loose ends tied once they have served their primary purpose of promoting Jesus and his message. This is simply because the focal point is locked so resolutely on the “light of the world” who has moved on. With that in mind, look at these verses and how the wording morphs in the space of just a few verses:

John 5:32-33,35     

“There is another who testifies about me, and I know the testimony he testifies about me is true. You have sent to John, and he has testified to the truth”. “He was a lamp that was burning and shining, and you wanted to rejoice greatly for a short time in his light.” 

And then that’s pretty much it. After this chapter, John’s name is mentioned just twice more in chapter 10, as ever with primary regard to Jesus.

Strange, huh? Just like that, he’s gone, with a slight twist of a sentence.

Summary

There are good grounds for assuming that Matthew is writing later than Mark (Hurtado puts Mark around 65 AD), and Luke and Acts. For everyone, both John and Jesus were executed decades before. It is generally acknowledged that of the three synoptic gospels, Matthew displays the greatest amount of theological shaping and reordering of material. He will go to considerable lengths to show Torah fulfilment (like having Jesus sitting on two donkeys, which was Matthew’s total misreading of Zechariah 9:9), eschatological fireworks of dozens of resurrections (that everyone else forgot) just after Jesus’ death, and a whole host of things.

However, although Matthew plays it loose, we also get to have his version of the baptismal formula, so all is forgiven! But we remember that he is all about making connections happen. He does it thematically, he does it prophetically from the past and into the future, and he sure makes certain that Mark and Luke’s efforts to connect and distinguish John and Jesus are as explicit as possible. Of course, Matthew’s method, however artificial it may sometimes appear, does not detract from the possibility that John was genuinely and even naturally held by the early emerging Christian communities to be such a great predecessor to Christ, that their deaths would be presumed the same ordering as their overlapping ministries: John first, then Jesus.

Some of those emerging communities may have vacuumed up some of the remaining John-movement communities that continued to function decades after his demise, which, given the consensus that (the great-but-humble) John had vouched for Jesus as the Messiah, could only have fuelled the Jesus movement.

Tough Choices

But let's not run away from the awkward bit. So what are our choices? Firstly, if this really matters to you, then you should really read a specialist on Josephus, there will be plenty of resources there on such a significant historian, and check the difficulty of John’s death dating is substantial. If it really does seem quite likely, then I think you are basically left with two options, but conservatives won’t like either (obviously).

Firstly, you could simply accept the logical flow I presented above that was integrated by Mark and followed and clarified by Luke then Matthew (and virtually ignored by John). This would mean that in reality, at Jesus’ crucifixion, John was either:

1.     Still in prison

2.     Not yet in prison, ministering.

If pushed, I would prefer 1. That gives Jesus the space to attract the crowds and attention without competing against John. A long prison stay is not something I have heard discussed before, but this might be because neither Josephus nor the gospel writers imply it. Thinking about 2., I just can’t see it, although I guess it would have to remain a possibility, given the strong evidence of godly humility at the heart of both movements.

Oh yes, there is a third possibility: simply something else happened that we'll never know!

Absence of Christ

As Christians, we are sometimes unaware of certain paradoxes that are interwoven within our faith. Some appear insurmountable, such as the discovery that our planet is much, much, much older than the interpretations offered by our illumined and "modern" predecessors could afford, and then that the Genesis text was neither written nor given in any spirit of police report. That's a whole chapter of its own, but one which illustrates well that the path of interpretation of our texts is dynamic, especially when we give ourselves the time and apply ourselves to being humble enough to look for the meaning that necessarily carried the texts over the centuries to us. If I am speaking in such terms, it is in no small part thanks to the influence of my friend, Barney Asprey, who has set me the challenge of taking with greater seriousness the precautions given us by Paul Ricoeur (among others) to not go too quickly in hammering out afresh a "scientific" faith. Fortunately, our biblical texts are loaded with diverse genres, especially that of story, within which there is the obvious purpose of retelling. Once separated from its source - the spirit, the hand and the revisions of the author - the text is unleashed. It lives. In the case of a canonised religious text, it literally becomes Eternal Word of God.

I apologise for this parenthesis, which might have distracted us from the direction I wanted (this is a translation from my original post in French last night) to take, which is the ascension of Christ. Having already published a short reflection on the meaning of the resurrection of Christ here, I now want to move at this appropriate time to his exaltation. However, not just to his exaltation, which represents a subsequent step loaded with meaning, but to the absence of Christ. Warning! I am not saying that Christ is absolutely absent, not at all, since we read clearly in the gospel according to Matthew "I am with you always, until the end of the age". Note, however, that Jesus is saying this in his departure phase (even if, unlike Luke, the author does not include the physical ascension itself). In other words: I am going and I am staying. This seems paradoxical, and before offering "a solution", I need to pay attention that I don't take the "voie courte" of simple comprehension. Interpretation offered by the church is transmitted from the very early years of childhood. The first lessons of Sunday School are not just that "God loves you", but that "Jesus lives in your heart" (of course, God is Jesus and Jesus is God at that point). Jesus is in your heart. This is not a childish reduction - it's a profound, dynamic reality experienced by millions of Christians of all ages. A while later, our children learn that God is also Spirit and Father, comprising further realities that attach onto our experience as we grow as Christians.

So we learn that Jesus and the Father are in us through the agency of the Spirit of God. Are you ready for another paradox? For God, his indirect action is as direct as his direct action, which is why the little Greek word "dia" is of such inestimable value. So, when Jesus physically leaves this planet in his human flesh, transformed according to the purposes of God for all the creation in submission to decay, he remains spiritually among God's people, there where "two or three are gathered" in his name. What can we notice? This departure prepares the way for an extraordinary deluge from the very heart and being of God, his Spirit, sent by the Son, which presences both Father and Son... and Christian, who suddenly exists as she or he has never been able to exist before! Jesus is thus made present despite his absence.

But why speak at all of his absence? Should it not suffice to speak of and rejoice in his presence?

I would say no. It is very important to understand, or perhaps stand under, the humanity of Christ, not just in the ontological sense, but to grasp where the New Testament is coming from. Of course, this latter testament followers the former and, with the Marcion interpretation so utterly and fatally crushed, continued to carry the meaning of a good God proud to ransom his good creation. Indeed, even beyond the scope of the New Testament, these centuries of gnostic and platonic prominence failed to lure the faithful in embracing philosophy of escaping from and denigration of the natural order. Instead, second temple Jewish expectation and conviction continued to be grounded in a God who would soon resolve the problems here.

Do you see the connection? It is for these reasons that the "picture" of Christ sat on the throne at the right hand of God is more than a picture. Yes, friends, it is yet another paradox. It has to be a paradox. The resurrected Christ did not vaporise his bones. Even the molecules, if we follow a certain modern logic yet ground it on the ancient transversal belief among nearly all Jews (except the Sadducees), even those atoms were transformed in a new physicality entirely driven by Spirit, which can only know life. I am starting to tire of all these paradoxes now, the new star being a body driven by spirit. All complaints to be sent to St. Paul...

Many may not realise that orthodox interpretation says that once the Christ incarnated flesh, being born of Mary, his incarnation is eternal. According to this tradition, which for me is deeply meaningful, Jesus bears his scars forever. Visibly. Physically. Let us return now then to the main paradox that prompted me to put pen to paper yesterday evening. This physical Jesus is at the right hand of the Father. He need only turn his head to the left and he can gaze directly into his Father's eyes and reciprocate the gaze that transformed the history of the world.

Let us not forget, and we so need to insist on this point, perhaps with reference to the solid of reference of N. T. Wright's The Resurrection of the Son of God, that the first generations of Christians - who were also Jews - understood this resurrection with the same language they reserved exclusively for the great Spring Clean - the apocalypse of God. Except that the resurrection scheduled for that end time had already taken place at Easter. "The resurrection" had been decisively split into two; first for Christ, and later for his people (leaving aside a complex passage at the end of Revelation). This great cleanup (I really like John Dominic Crossan's language here), by definition, cannot be just symbolic. But if the resurrection is understood as above all a miracle, it would be surprising for some to realise how slippery the slope is back to the lure of escaping the physical prison. That for which our souls thirst is doubtless something akin to escape, but escaping the natural order entirely is a severe and even fatal corruption of the earliest interpretations. The supernatural transformed the natural. That is where my question came from last night (there are so many things to say on this topic but it was late and I didn't want to have this paradox still hanging over me today - even if I am sure that I will never have a satisfactory answer): how can Jesus be understood as being located to the right of the incorporeal father, and the father to the left of the corporal son?

The absence of Christ's body in the tomb visited by the women on the Sunday morning should still speak to us today. An absent Christ can doubtless be in our hearts, along with the Father, but an absent Christ enables him to be "located" in the supreme authority position, present next to his father, our father. Let us remember that a resurrected Christ reigning from Earth would have had significant limits. How hard would it be to believe in his resurrection (a never-aging man, king of Israel...): it would seem that our God appreciates steps of faith, which various apologists sense a need to remove for the Christians they "serve". However, if we look at the ontological interpretation options, that is to say the interpretation of the satisfaction of messianic promises in a resurrected, non-ascended Messiah, would no doubt still include being "a son of God", even in a more absolute sense than David, but still much less than approximating an equal to God himself.

Christ's absence, therefore, would seem as important as his presence. According to me, Barney ;)

Absence de Christ

En tant que chrétiens, nous sommes des fois inconscients de certains paradoxes qui s'entremelent de notre foi. Certains paraissent surmontables, comme la découverte que non seulement notre planète est beaucoup, beaucoup, beaucoup plus ancienne que l'interprétation offerte de nos prédécesseurs "illuminés" et "modernes", mais aussi que les textes de la génèse n'ont été ni posés ni composés d'un esprit de rapport policier. Cela est toute une histoire qui illustre simplement que le chemin de l'interprétation de nos textes évolue, surtout lorsqu'on se donne le temps et se permet l'humilité de chercher le(s) sens que les textes ont forcément portés avec eux au fil du temps. Si je parle de cette manière, c'est bien grâce à l'influence de mon ami, Barney Asprey, qui me pose le défie de prendre plus au sérieux les précautions dévelopés par Paul Ricoeur, parmi d'autres, à ne pas aller trop vite dans une science de la foi. Heureusement, nos textes bibliques sont très chargés de genres divers, notamment celui du recit, qui porte un objectif ne serait-ce que dans l'objectif de la retransmission. Une fois détaché de sa source - l'esprit, la main et les révisions de l'auteur - le texte se déchaîne. Il vit. Dans le cadre d'un texte religeux, canonisé, il devient litéralement une parole éternelle, forcément parole donc de Dieu.

Je m'excuse pour cette parenthèse, parce que la vraie direction que je voudrais prendre ce soir est l'ascension de Christ. Ayant déjà publié une courte réflexion sur le sens de la résurrection de Christ ici (en anglais), je souhaite passer, à ce moment opportun donc, à son exaltation. Cependant, pas uniquement à son exaltation, qui représente un pas supplémentaire chargé de sens, mais à l'absence de Christ. Attention, je ne dis pas que Christ est absent absolument, pas du tout, puisque nous lisons très clairement déjà dans l'évangile selon Matthieu que "Je suis avec vous tous les jours, jusqu'à la fin du monde". Notez, cependant, que Jésus dit cela toute à fait dans sa phase de départ (même si l'auteur n'inclut pas l'ascension elle-même comme fait Luc). C'est à dire, je pars et je reste. Ceci parait paradoxal, et avant de proposer "une solution", je dois faire attention à ne pas prendre "la voie courte" de la simple compréhension. L'interprétation proposée par l'église se transmet dès la petite enfance. La première des premières leçons de l'école de dimanche est bien non seulement que Dieu t'aime, mais que "Jésus est dans ton coeur" (bien évidement, Dieu est Jésus et Jésus est Dieu à ce moment-là). Jésus est dans ton coeur. Ce n'est pas une banalité infantile; il s'agit d'une profonde réalité dynamique dans la vie de millions de Chrétiens de tout âge. Un peu plus tard, nos enfants apprennent que Dieu est aussi Esprit et Père, ce sont autres réalités qui s'attachent aux cheminement et vécu du chrétien.

En effet, nous apprenons que Jésus et le Père sont en nous par le biais de l'Esprit de Dieu. Etes-vous prêts pour un paradoxe de plus? Pour Dieu, son action indirect est aussi direct que son action direct, d'où l'inestimable importance du petit mot "dia" en grec. Donc, lorsque Jésus part physiquement de cette planète dans sa chair humaine, transformée selon le dessein de Dieu pour toute la création en état actuelle de soumission à la pourriture, il reste spirituellement parmi le peuple de Dieu, là où "deux ou trois sont rassemblés" en son nom. Qu'est-ce qu'on constate? Un départ qui prépare un déluge extraordinaire depuis le coeur, l'être même de Dieu de son Esprit envoyé par le Fils, qui rend présents père et fils... et chrétien, qui existe du coup comme jamais il n'a pu existé auparavant ! Jésus est donc rendu présent malgré son absence.

Mais pourquoi parler d'absence ? Ne suffirait-il pas de parler et se réjouir de présence?

Je dirais que non. Il est d'une grande importance de comprendre l'humanité de Christ, non seulement dans le sens ontologique, mais pour saisir d'où vient le nouveau testament. Bien évidemment, ce dernier suit "l'ancien" testament et, l'interprétation marcionne étant rejetée d'une force fatale, a continué à être porteur d'un sens profond d'un bon Dieu fier de racheter sa bonne création. En effet, même au delà du nouveau testament, les siècles de prominence gnostique et platonique, n'ont pas réussi à tenter "les fidèles"  à l'échappement de la prison corporelle, mais plus tôt à affirmer les convictions juives de l'ère du deuxième temple, que Dieu allait bientôt régler les problèmes ici.

Voyez-vous le lien? C'est bien pour ces raisons-là que "l'image" du Christ assis sur le thrône à la main droite de Dieu est plus qu'une image. En effet, c'est encore un paradoxe mes amis. Il faut qu'il en soit un. Le Christ réscucité n'a pas zappé ses os. Les molécules mêmes, si on suit une certaine logique moderne fondée sur la perspective juive transversale de l'époque (parmi les Juifs, en tout cas représentatif d'une démographie juive bien plus transversale que l'exception des Saducéens), seraient transformés dans une nouvelle physicalité entièrement animée par l'Esprit qui ne peut qu'émaner de la vie. Je commence à m'épuiser à compter les paradoxes maintenant, le nouveau star étant ce corps animé par l'esprit. Pour toute réclamation, on  peut s'adresser à St Paul...

L'interprétation orthodoxe, beaucoup ne le savent pas peut-être, dis qu'une fois que le Christ a incarné la chair, en naissant par Marie, que son incarnation est à perpétuité. Selon cette tradition, qui pour moi est riche de sens, Jésus portera éternellement ses cicatrises. Visiblement. Physiquement. Revenons-nous au paradoxe principal qui m'a poussé à mettre de l'encre sur ma plume ce soir. Ce Jésus physique et visible est à la droite du Père. Il n'a qu'à tourner sa tête à gauche et il pourra regarder son Père directement dans ses yeux et échanger le regard qui a transformé l'histoire du monde.

N'oublions pas, et il faut tellement insister dessus, peut-être sur un appui solide telle que la référence The Resurrection of the Son of God, par N. T. Wright, que les premières générations de chrétiens - également juives - ont compris cette résurrection avec un langage qu'elles réservaient pour le gros ménage du Printemps de Dieu, son apocalypse. Sauf que la résurrection qui était prévue pour cette époque là a déjà eu lieu à Pacques. "La résurrection" a été décisivement scindée en deux; d'abord pour Christ, et puis ce sera pour son peuple (mettant de côté un passage complexe à la fin de l'apocalypse de St Jean). Ce gros ménage divin (j'aime bien l'appelation de John Dominic Crossan du great divine clean-up), par définition, ne peut pas être que symbolique. Si la résurrection est comprise comme surtout un miracle, il serait étonnant pour certains de réaliser la vitesse à laquelle on peut vouloir, de nouveau, s'échapper de cette prison corporelle/naturelle. Ce à quoi nous aspirons est un peu comme un échappement sans doute, mais ceci est un détournement profond et fatal des interprétations précoces. Le surnaturel a transformé le naturel. D'où ma question ce soir (il y a tellement de choses à dire à ce sujet mais il est tard et je ne veux plus avoir ce paradoxe à résoudre demain - je suis assez sûr de ne jamais trouver une réponse suffisante), comment peut Jésus être compris comme à la droite du père incorporel, et le père à gauche de son fils corporel ?

L'absence du corps de Christ dans le tombeau où sont allées les femmes le dimanche matin devrait nous parler encore aujourd'hui. Un Christ absent pourrait être présent avec son Père dans nos coeurs, sans doute, mais un Christ absent est paradoxalement en position d'autorité suprême, "présent" avec son père, notre père. Rappelons-nous aussi qu'un Christ rescucité en situation de règne terrestre aurait eu des limites fortes: grande difficulté pour les femmes et les hommes à ne pas croire dans sa résurrection (homme qui ne vieillit jamais, roi d'Israël, ...). Il paraît que notre Dieu apprécie le pas de foi que de nombreux apologètes chrétiens se sentent missionnés d'enlever des chrétiens qu'ils "servent". Un Christ ici présent, du point de vu interprétation ontologique, aurait satisfait les promesses messianiques différemment, même suite à l'acte décisif divin de sa résurrection. Sans partir pour régner sur le cosmos entier à la droite de Dieu, il serait sans doute "un fils de Dieu" dans un sens plus poussé que David, mais toujours bien moins qu'un égal à Dieu lui-même.

L'absence de Christ serait donc aussi important que sa présence. En tout cas, selon moi, Barney ;)

Crucified God

On the Trinities podcast, we have been looking at various efforts to explain how one who is "fully God" could die, if God is immortal.

It's a bit of a head-scratcher, but I had a go at playing "devil's advocate" and wrote to both the show host and the PhD student advocating a new form of social Trinitarianism to try and assess the strengths of this approach.

Here then I posit the following impossible triad (all cannot be true) and how I think a Trinitarian should answer. These alternatives are inspired by Jurgen Moltmann's distinction that it is not as accurate to say death of God as death in God (The Crucified God) and McIntosh's intrinsic/group persons. If I were a fourth century or later trinitarian, I would also want to distinguish between person and being, or intrinsic and group persons. I would say that the Triune God is a being (or group person) and that Jesus Christ is not a being (or a group person); Jesus Christ is an intrinsic person.

Definitions:
God = one (group) being; God = three fully divine intrinsic persons, F S & HS
Immortal = "never dying"

1) God is essentially immortal
2) No fully divine person has ever died
2) Jesus is fully divine

As I mentioned in my comment, I think the way forward for a capital T Trinitarian might first be to deny the wording as accurate because Jesus Christ is an intrinsic person, not a being (i.e. human-divine person, not a human being), to substitute the word person for being, then deny 2. Now they can take refuge in the person/being distinction and propulse a possible further distinction that might follow from Moltmann's thought, that God experienced death within him.

Alternatively, if we took a McIntosh Group Person social Trinity, this scenario could invite the comparison with a closely knit family losing a treasured member. The functional group person experiences the death of an intrinsic person. Here, it is the group person who is essentially immortal, and the intrinsic person Logos incarnandus (Barth) who is not.

The Death of Christ - part 2

In yesterday's post I demonstrated a strange archaeological lack of crucified skeletal remains: to this day only one archaeological find confirms the ancient practice of crucifixion inflicted on thousands for a period extending across multiple centuries. A key explanation for this is that the bodies were not commonly granted decent burials.

Like the case of Yehohanon ben Hagkol, for Jesus to be buried in a tomb would have required very special circumstances, without which his body also would have been subjected to the same humiliating and inhumane conclusion : animal scavenging by dogs,  birds etc. That would provide ample motivation for Joseph of Arimathea to request a much more suitable solution for Jesus' body. So yes,  for Jesus to be buried in a tomb following public execution absolutely necessitated Joseph's intervention.

In fact, one interesting question to ponder would be quite what Jesus expected to happen to his body. The evangelists retelling the Jesus stories are keen to remind readers (and listeners) that Jesus would have been in no way surprised at his resurrection, but nowhere does he seem to assume that this resurrection would take place in the confines of a tomb - all he is alleged to have specified was that he would arise "on the third day". Indeed he would have been well aware of the brutal treatment of such renegades. If he really did to and fro from Jerusalem as John recounts then he may well have seen others crucified and their usual body-dump zone.

The fact that special extenuating circumstances would have been necessary in no way diminishes the possibility of Jesus receiving a decent burial.  I have not yet had the courage to wrestle with Richard Bauckham's Jesus and the Eyewitnesses (that day may never come - some of what I have heard of his history-writing appears to be nothing short of contrived speculation), but it would be a typical Bauckham argument to speculate that since Joseph of Arimathea was a follower of Jesus, that they might have discussed this arrangement prior to his execution. For my part, I would be quite skeptical of any such proposal, which would imply that Jesus was a bit hazy on the details in his own mind about quite where he would resurrect from, but we could reasonably imagine that he envisaged being raised from around other rotting corpses rather than from a quiet respectable tomb.

There are a couple of other details I still want to hash out, so there will probably be a Part 3 to this mini-series on the death of Christ.

Alternatively,  you can check out Part 1 to this mini series here.  

The Death of Christ

As Christians, we are very excited about the resurrection of our Lord. Sometimes we are in a bit of a hurry to imagine the empty tomb of the first Easter Sunday - perhaps not unlike the resistance of many to talk of Jesus as fully man without quickly rushing on to reassure themselves and their listeners that Jesus is also "fully God".

We need to stop sometimes, and not rush.

It is important to take note of what some scholars have been saying about the death of Jesus in their attempts to reconstruct what really happened that day. It is good not to be in the dark about this because if well known, liberal or simply atheist scholars are allowed to expand credibility of alternative theories, then the faith is undermined. Before I continue, I want to make it plain: I take Jesus' insistance on truth very seriously. Any faith founded on sand not only will be shaken, but should be shaken - the sooner the better. But here - after hearing again Bart Ehrman (atheist scholar) citing John Dominic Crossan (liberal scholar, whose book I am currently reading on the birth of Christianity), I feel a responsibility to respond.

Ehrman cites research - including that of Crossan - which indicates that enemies of the state were not granted decent burials. One of the whole points of crucifixion was that it was as painful and as public as possible - sending the strongest message possible to anyone else thinking they might have it in them to rebel against Roman rule. One argument that is particularly striking (although these two don't seem to make too much of it), is our near-total lack of skeletal evidence for crucifixion in the ancient world: the following image depicts the only known example, whose name is given as Yehohanon ben Hagkol:

It remains, however, something of a mystery as to why we do not have more, given the thousands of people that were crucified for centuries, even if we account for most bodies being left for scavenging animals and dumping in shared graves. Returning to Jesus, however, it is important to account for this evidence. In the Biblical accounts, a certain Joseph of Arimathea requested the dead body of Jesus in order to give it a decent burial. The evidence provided above does not discount this story - it simply provides interesting context for this story repeated in all four of the gospel narratives...

*** part 2 tomorrow! ***

Bart Ehrman - mistaken on Judas?

Bart has done a few posts on the crucifixion. In a recent one he doubts that Paul was aware of the whole betrayal incident by Judas (in fact he even goes so far as to say "It is worth noting that the apostle Paul knows nothing of the tradition that Judas betrayed Jesus or that he killed himself". Before I say why he thinks that and why I am not at all convinced, let me share first something he had already said that was very interesting.

Based on the work of Albert Schweitzer, Bart agrees that maybe what happened was that on a deeper level of betrayal, Judas spilled the beans about the Messianic secret, which tied in closely with being the "Son of God", a messianic title. Bart states: "But what do the Jewish authorities accuse Jesus of?  They accuse him of calling himself the messiah (Mark 14:61-62; note: the “king of Israel” was also called “the son of God” – see 2 Sam. 7:11-14).

And that is the charge Pilate tries him on.  Pilate asks him “Are you the King of the Jews,” and [...] this is the reason he had him crucified."

This makes more sense to me than the simple garden-kissing incident alone.

So that is where I feel Bart sheds some potential light. However, where I am much more sceptical (it's so refreshing being sceptical of a sceptic!) is his take on Paul and Judas. He argues that Paul knew nothing of this betrayal. He bases this on two points (I only take serious issue with the first)

1. The fact that the word the gospel writers use for "betray" can also be used to mean "hand over", and not only that, but Paul never uses the word to mean "betray", According to Bart, this means that when Paul writes PARADIDOMI in 1 Cor. 11:22-24,  “On the night in which he was betrayed”, he is very unlikely to be referring to Judas' betrayal, but more the "handing over" of God. 

2. 1 Cor 15:5-8, Paul recounts eye-testimony to the resurrection:  first he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve, then he appeared to more than 500... 12 minus 1 = 11! Fair point. They were only restored to the number of 12, according to Acts, after Jesus had ascended to the Father.

This is my response to Bart Ehrman on his blog (I shall post any follow-up correspondence if interesting):

What is not so clear is that PRODIDOMI has to mean betray. In Romans 11:35 it definitely doesn’t. Bart may well be right (that Paul was not referring to Judas but instead to God handing him over), but the assumptions of clear-cut definitions as he puts them here failed to satisfy me today.

Another thing PARADIDOMI doesn’t mean betray?!

Bart does specify that PAUL doesn’t use it this way, but he also does not draw attention to the fact that all four gospel writers use this word EXTENSIVELY to describe Judas and his act. If Paul doesn’t focus on Judas in his writings (or the very few writings that WE have), what other occasion would he have had to use PARADIDOMI in a betrayal sense? Finally, (smaller point) when Paul (and “Peter”) use PARADIDOMI, it is a bit wider than simply God delivering his son; Jesus also gives himself up, people are delivered to their own depravity, it’s quite general and not specifically located in a narrative, unlike this one passage in 1 Cor. 11:22-24. 

The missing ecumenical council: Christ's death, resurrection and incarnation.

On 14th November 2014, I kept it very short - just nine characters in fact: DID GOD DIE?

I would like to follow up on that question now, because it feels very connected to me to the Ephesus and Chalcedon decisions about Mary and her relationship to Jesus as very God. Quick recap: Mary is "officially" (and that is pretty synonymous of orthodoxically at this time) the Mother of God, and the reason behind that declaration is to do with the indivisible nature of Christ's hypostatic union, fully man and fully God, one person, that is, one hypostasis. These council decisions, like all the councils, were made in the context of dispute and uncertainty within the church, and a need for an orthodoxy to emerge in this or that central issue. It was very important for them to realise that we cannot allow in a type of thinking about Jesus that allowed us to play games with his divinity.

I recently participated in a training course where the question of the Holy Spirit took central stage for a while. The participants in the discussion had - what seemed to them - very opposing views about the Holy Spirit. What is baptism? What is filling? Are they the same thing? Do they occur at conversion? None of these questions were of that much significance at the time that the Trinity was made official, and likewise, the triune God is probably less of a burning issue (despite its so-called revival) than the Holy Spirit right now. I look to this example as it helps me understand an important aspect to the creeds' development. The issues they resolve are the issues of the day. There are many other issues that these main councils do not consider, that hundreds of other more local councils have deliberated over the centuries (and even during the ecumenical council period, see Toledo III for example as an historically very significant council).

So when I consider the question DID GOD DIE, I am reassured that this was possibly not such a central issue for the church in relation to the question of Christ's divinity, as it might seem to me now, or to other reflective individuals researching the doctrines. Perhaps for many, the issue is solved by Theotokos. That is to say, quite simply, YES, God did die on the cross. Kind of. But not the Father and not the Spirit, although in true inseparability-of-operations style, they were utterly involved in this work.

The questions that spew fourth from this statement seem even more bountiful than the dyothelite conclusions (Jesus has two wills that can differ):

If God died, who raised Jesus? I found in my main research project, that this is one of the strongest distinctives applied, especially by Paul, between Jesus and God. There are more than two dozen passages that simply state that: God raised Jesus. This constitutes a strong biblical statement, but we hesitate to say it this way because the triune eternal God seems compromised this way. For my part, when I see multiple occurrences like this, I am not merely counting them - look, look, there is one more! Much more worthwhile, is a different pursuit where we can see ourselves trying to reconstruct 1st Century THOUGHT. God raising Jesus is in the apostles' MIND, and it is out of these (God-inspired) minds that they taught and they wrote, much, much, much more than what we have access to today.

Or was the hypostatic union broken for three days? This should be considered a very dangerous proposition by trinitarians. It seems likely to me that this could be exactly the kind of thought process behind the Gospel of Peter's [check] rendering of the death of Jesus.

Or was the Trinity broken? Stripped back from 3 to 2? Perhaps even earlier than the death of Jesus, for God "forsakes" his son as he bears the sin of the world. Obviously not...

So did Jesus die in the flesh and his spirit live on as implied by 1 Peter 3:18-22? He did after all say to the robber that he would see him that day in Paradise, and of course there was all the preaching to do in the dungeons of those taken out by the flood in Noah's time, so surely that was a way in which the Divine Son did not in fact require bodily raising, because he was at work during the three days. But if that were the case, then when did he die?

Or was the hypostatic union preserved during these three days? It seems there might be a torturous way through here. If Jesus died and his death was total and real, as indeed the scriptures testify in the bodily sense (blood and water), it need only be in the sense that death is real for any human being's body. The robber's life also goes on beyond the grave to meet Jesus that same day in Paradise. So, in this understanding, the triune incarnate God did suffer death, while it experienced no break in living either. The death was assured by the physical death of the Son's incarnated body, and the continuity assured by the ongoingness of the human spirit, to both Paradise, where he was to meet the robber, and to the realm of the dead to preach.

If this is more or less consistent, then it requires a different perspective on "death" and a different perspective on "incarnation". The second is the trickier of the two, because of the roots of the word incarnation, something a bit like: en-fleshing. But if this version is accurate, then we should be asking if the incarnation could actually be re-clarified as en-humaning, taking on not just a human body, but also a human spirit.

Follow-up post: Moltmann's perspective in Crucified God.
Follow-up posts: The whole shebang, a fully deified christology.