Judaism, Jewish Identities and the Gospel Tradition

Essays in Honour of Maurice Casey

James G. Crossley

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781134944675
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Ancient History
• Index: History

Contemporary Gospel studies have recently taken increasing interest in the Jewish context of Jesus and the gospels. Judaism, Jewish Identities and the Gospel Tradition offers an overview of the ways in which Judaism is used in the canonical gospels and how this relates to the idea of a 'Jewish Jesus'. The essays bring together a range of influential scholars to analyse the role of Judaism in gospel studies. The book explores constructions of gender, the impact of the historical Jesus, and the significant steps toward Christian distinctiveness made in the gospel of John. The essays cover a range of biblical texts: from the Lord's Prayer to Mark's Christology and the Gerasene Demoniac to themes of poverty in Luke

Part I

INTRODUCTION

Chapter 1

IDENTITY, JUDAISM, AND THE GOSPEL TRADITION

James G. Crossley^*

Introduction: Casey with a Twist

It is probably fair to say that the overarching concern of Maurice Casey’s academic career has been to explain the emergence of Christian origins in relation to early Judaism, with much of his specific, detailed research focusing on the canonical Gospels. Of course, Casey’s research has stretched beyond the canonical Gospels. Indeed, in his 1991 book, From Jewish Prophet to Gentile God,¹ Casey proposed a grand theory of the development of early Christology with reference to broader interdisciplinary approaches to identity that had been gathering pace since the 1960s. Here Casey looked at how issues relating to ethnicity and the ways Jewish beliefs and practices, such as Sabbath and monotheism, functioned in the construction of Jewish identities in the ancient world. Against this backdrop Casey analyzed the ways in which Jesus, Jesus’ first followers, Paul, the Synoptics, John’s Gospel and others used, modified, rejected, or ignored various issues associated with Judaism to explain the emergence of a new gentile movement, with key steps made by the people responsible for John’s Gospel, who would identify themselves as “gentile”, or perhaps better “gentile Christian”, over against Judaism as a whole.

Rather than give a comprehensive survey of scholarship, this introductory chapter will develop a Casey-style approach to provide various ways of looking at identity concerns in the gospel tradition, from the historical Jesus to John’s Gospel, and thereby covering the concerns raised in this book with reference to Casey’s interests. Throughout, we must always be aware that textual rhetoric may not quite be reflecting sociological realities on the ground. In other words, Christianized identity in relation to Judaism is often an idealized textual construction.² John’s Gospel, for instance, may well portray “the Jews” as other but, as we will see in this chapter and in Wendy E. S. North’s chapter in particular, things were probably not that clear cut. Moreover, Catrin Williams’ chapter will show that when using that other staple in the construction of Jewish identity – Scripture – John’s Gospel is competing and engaging with different Jewish exegetical traditions. Conversely, constructing a Jewish identity firmly within Judaism does not mean a lack of distinctiveness. George Brooke’s article shows, with reference to the Dead Sea Scrolls and Christian origins, similarities and differences are not unexpected and can be mutually illuminating.³ It is also important to note that interdisciplinary studies of identity have also had a major stress on issues of class and gender, in addition to ethnicity. Such issues have now worked their way into the mainstream of gospel studies and they are not easily removed from issues of ethnicity in the construction of identity. Consequently, issues of gender and class will supplement the more Casey-style concerns.

“Class” and the Gospel Tradition

Traditionally issues of social class were avoided like the plague in gospel studies, particularly in the mid-twentieth century with the global impact of communism and the Cold War. However, with the social upheavals of the 1960s things did begin to change and social-scientific interpretation of the New Testament became firmly rooted in the “what’s hot” category. From the 1970s onwards there have been explicit and well known attempts at outlining the socio-economic context of the teaching of Jesus and the Gospels.⁴ This has not only involved questions of what teaching recorded in the Gospels might have meant or might mean for relations between the “rich” and the “poor” but also what social class Jesus or the writer of this or that Gospel might have been.

It is not easy to be too analytically precise about class in the ancient world but we can say that two generalized categories can be usefully imposed on the evidence. There were a small percentage of elites at the top of the social scale while the overwhelming population in ancient agrarian societies were what we might call peasants. Of course, there were various sub-categories within these generalizations but, as we will see, the two broad categories remain useful and indeed echo ancient constructions of “rich” and “poor”.⁵

Despite the marked social inequality, there was very little ever done about the situation by the peasantry. This is not surprising given that living near the poverty line would mean risking everything if something was going to be done. And then there was the big problem of the military might of the elites. But occasionally things did change. John Kautsky and others have argued that peasant unrest in the ancient world tends to be a reaction to commercializing activities, tied in with urbanization. As many scholars have now noted, such changes were happening in Galilee as Jesus was growing up, notably Sepphoris was rebuilt and Tiberias was built. The labour and materials had to come from somewhere and so locals and peasants would have faced the possibility of dislocation (cf. Ant. 18.36–38). It is no coincidence that not only was there a full scale revolt against Rome in 66–70 CE, but great hatred was levelled at Sepphoris and Tiberias (Life 30, 39, 66–68, 99, 374–84).

This ought to be qualified with a note on perception. In terms of historical change and peasant unrest, we do not necessarily have to resort to debating whether or not there was a rise or fall in standard of living, important though such debates are for other purposes. What is important for unrest and historical change is that changing socio-economic circumstances can give rise to unrest, irrespective of the validity of the disquiet. For example, when discussing peasant land occupations, Hobsbawm points out that peasant reaction is due to alienation “in a manner which they do not regard as valid.”⁶ This is a significant qualification because Morten Hørning Jensen’s recent impressive work on Galilean archaeology has questioned the conflict-based approach to Galilee at the time of Jesus, suggesting that there is more evidence for a prosperous economy than conflict.⁷ There are problems in letting the archaeological evidence somehow speak for itself, but trying to measure the standard of living is not necessarily crucial to all conflict-based approaches. What is significant for a conflict based model, at least how I use it, is that there has been a localized change and at least some among the populace do not feel this is for the better, irrespective of whether they are right in terms of prosperity.

Now think of Jesus’ teaching and the construction of social and economic identities in the context of the socio-economic changes in Galilee. Roger Aus’ chapter shows how Lk. 15.11–31 develops the known deadly dangers of poverty, famine, and hunger. The Gospel vitriol is also much more explicable in this context. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus is reported to have crystallized such stark reactions to stark social relations in eschatological terms, having Abraham say to the rich man, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony” (Lk. 16.25). This unqualified socio-economic role reversal reflects a view across the Synoptic tradition (e.g. Mk 10.17–31; Mt. 5.3–12/Lk. 6.20–26; Lk. 14.12–24/Mt. 22.1–14; Mt. 25.31–46; Lk. 12.13–21; 16) and given the socio-economic changes in Galilee as Jesus was growing up it may well reflect the attitude of the historical Jesus.

The scribal intervention in the gospel tradition retains much of this polemic and the constructions of rich and poor. According to Q traditions, Jesus appears to have spent some time discussing what would happen to those whom he may have deemed rich and by doing so provides some evidence as to how “the rich” could be constructed. It is the rich who are most likely to serve mammon (Mt. 6.24/Lk. 16.13), store up treasures on earth (Mt. 6.19–21/Lk. 12.33–34), wear fine clothing in their fine palaces (Mt. 11.7–8/Lk. 7.24–25), and worry about what clothes to wear, what food to eat, and about a prosperous life (Mt. 6.25–34/Lk. 12.22–32; cf. 1 En. 97.8–10; 98.2).⁸ It may well be significant that much of the so-called Q material may well have been transmitted in a Galilean context.⁹ We will also see below how the transmission of the so-called Q legal material interacts with an ancient socio-economic context.

Mark, likewise, does not seem to have much of a problem with damning the rich who, virtually by default, cannot observe the Law properly. The rich man may have observed even the listed commandments (Mk 10.17–22), even the additional command not to defraud/exploit, but he cannot bring himself to sell his properties and give the proceeds to the poor. Following some Jewish re-interpretations of reward theology (e.g. 1 En. 92–105), the Markan Jesus rejects the idea of wealth in this life (Mk 10.23–25) and transfers reward to the times to come (Mk 10.28–31), a reversal of fortunes which causes amazement among the disciples and an explanation by Jesus (Mk 10.26–27), presumably because the idea of reward in this life has a long tradition (e.g. Deut. 28.1–14; Job 1.10; 42.10; Isa. 3.10; Prov. 10.22; Tob. 12.9; Sir. 3.1, 6; 25.7–11; 35.13; 44.10–15; 51.27–30; Bar. 4.1). One good sign that Mark does have such a stark construction of rich and poor in mind is the fact the textual tradition of certain key verses makes the necessary changes so that the pious rich will be fine (Mk 10.24, 25).¹⁰

Luke is particularly interesting as he includes arguably the most hostile passage against the “rich” in the Gospel traditions (Lk. 16.19–31), alongside retaining some of the other polemic material, but also manages to include, without any awareness of self-contradiction, passages where Jesus interacts positively with people who could reasonably be deemed rich according to Lukan and gospel constructions of rich and poor (Lk. 8.2–3; cf. Mk 14.3–9; 15.41). From a broader socio-historical perspective one reason for this might have been echoes of something developed earlier than Luke, namely someone from outside the peasantry keeping the momentum of unrest going and providing some form of leadership.¹¹ Another historical reason, and not as contradictory as it might seem, could be the old view that part of Luke’s intention is to show how the movement fits into the Roman Empire and is not any kind of threat. This reflects a tension between condemning “the rich” and accepting “the rich” that is found in the gospel tradition. A more immediate narrative reason for Luke including such interactions would no doubt have been an ideal Lukan construction of sharing in the Christian community, at least in its early days (Acts 4.32–5.10). This gets some support in the story of Zacchaeus (Lk. 19.1–9). Though this story reflects Jesus’ concern with tax-collectors repenting and getting rid of (some of) their ill-gotten gains, it unusually shows a tax-collector actually doing something about their wealth which may suggest that we are dealing more with Lukan theology than historical occurrence. After all, how successful would Jesus really have been at getting the rich to give up their loot?

As an aside, it is worth noting that Matthew provides some detailed construction of what constitutes the needy.¹² In the parable of the sheep and goats (Mt. 25.21–46), we get a definition of those in need to include being hungry, thirsty, in need of clothing, in prison, and without shelter for the night. We are also told what should be done with such people: feed, clothe, visit, and welcome them. If this is not done, it is clear what will happen to the neglecters: they will face a fiery eternal punishment (Mt. 25.41, 46). Matthew further identifies the poor with Jesus (Mt. 25.40, 45). That much seems clear, but there is an intriguing argument often made that Matthew makes another definition of the poor by shifting away from anyone particularly needy of food, clothing, drink and so on, namely by identifying such people with members of the Christian movement (cf. Mt. 10.40–42; 28.10).¹³ If this is the case, though it remains a highly debatable argument,¹⁴ then Mt. 25.31–46 may owe something to the tradition of idealizing poverty, though a category still overlapping with economic poverty in many cases, to refer to a special pious in-group, a tradition developed by the early Christians (e.g. Rom. 15.26).

Gender

The study of gender and identity has emerged as a major part of New Testament studies through the rise of feminist criticism in biblical studies and, more generally, through the increasing participation of women in higher education since the 1960s. The empirical focus has largely been on the role of women and so it is to the role of women we turn first.

The tradition that there were, surprisingly perhaps, women among the first followers of Jesus, was too strong to be totally subdued in the gospel tradition. Why this was the case brings us immediately back to issues of socio-economic context. Here the work of Halvor Moxnes on Jesus and gendered space is important.¹⁵ As Moxnes shows, the construction of space in Jesus’ social location was very definitely gendered, most notably in the context of the household. Compare the following construction of women’s place in the household:

These are the kinds of labour which a woman performs for her husband: she grinds flour, bakes bread, does laundry, prepares meals, feeds her child, makes the bed, works in wool. If she brought with her a single slave girl, she does not grind, bake bread, or do laundry. If she bought two, she does not prepare meals and does not feed her child. If she brought three, she does not make the bed for him and does not work in wool. If she brought four, she sits on a throne. R. Eliezer says, ‘Even if she brought him a hundred slave girls, he forces her to work in wool, for idleness leads to licentiousness.’ Rabban Simeon b. Gamaliel says, ‘Also: He who prohibits a wife by a vow from performing any labour puts her away and pays off her marriage contract.’ (m. Ketub. 5.5)

This passage makes some fairly conventional gender assumptions and ones that would be part of the Christian and wider world for centuries to come.

But it is in the context of social upheaval where shifts in the rhetoric and reality of conventional soc...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Half Title page
• Series page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• List of Contributors
• Preface
• Part I: Introduction
• Part II: Judaism, Jewish Identities and the Gospel Tradition
• General Index