The disparity of synagogue and ekklesia as technical terms in the book of James

Scholars are divided on the “Christian” or “Jewish” character of the book of James. Late 19^th and early 20^th century commentators on the book of James questioned whether it was even a Christian text at all. Rather, it was argued that the two indications of Christianity (verse 1:1 and 2:1) were later additions to an otherwise Jewish text that preexisted the life of Jesus.[1] Most commentators these days have abandoned the idea of James as  Pre-Christian work as there are so many parallel passages with Jesus’ sayings. Jesus is never cited and the works are not quotations. Rather, they are approximations of Jesus’ sayings, but the content is so similar it has forced many to think that there must have been a connection.[2] However, a curious issue arises in the use of the terms synagogue and ekklesia in 2:2 and 5:14 respectively. Both terms literally mean “assembly” but both have religious connotations for technical terms of Jewish and Christian worship centers. However, an analysis of the two passages in James shows that synagogue is not a technical term for a Jewish worship center whereas ekklesia is a technical term for a Christian worship center. This has far reaching implications as to the provenance of the book of James and its relationship with Judaism.

Ekklesia

The term ekklesia in the text is used in 5:14 for the purpose of ritual prayer for the sick. The text in its context reads as follows:

Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise. Are any among you sick? They should call the elders of the church (ekklesia) and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.[3]

This practice seems to be a ritual practice that is specific to Christianity. While there certainly were “elders” in Judaism in addition to an anointing with oil, the use of these as ritual devotions paired in this way is relatively rare.[4] The practice, however, is quite common in Christian communities as part of their standard worship practice.

The term “church” here paired with “elders” is a common one in the New Testament. The most obvious correlation is found in 1 Timothy, which describes the formal office of elders in the church. This group has, among its functions, a laying on of hands to empower the community: “Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you through prophecy with the laying on of hands by the council of elders.”[5]  Further Acts speaks of elders as being key leaders of the community with ritual functions.[6]

The term “ekklesia” here seems deliberately used to discuss the religious community. This term is the most common term used for the Christian community in the New Testament. In fact, aside from the gospels (where only Matthew uses the term) every book in the New Testament uses the term with the exception of 1 and 2 Peter. While in theory, it could have been used to describe a Jewish gathering (as it simply means assembly), it usually was not as the term synagogue was the norm.

The concept of ekklesia as a technical term would indicate a distinctly Christian character to the passage. This can be found most notably in how few descriptors need to be used. There is no question who the “elders” were or how they functioned in the community. If, like 1 Timothy, these “elders” were the ones running the communal gatherings,[7] there is no question who the group is or how they ought to be functioning in this context.

Secondly, the term ekklesia seems to suggest a ritual context. This is the only time the term is used in James and it is paired with a seeming common ritual of prayer and anointment with oil which “will save the sick.” One should note that the text does not say that the sick will be healed physically. Rather, given the context of salvation in the text of following the implanted Logos by means of enduring trials,[8] it is far more likely that the text is not suggesting an excision of those trials (or sufferings) but rather a spiritual salvation of the implanted logos.[9]  If the practice is for the spiritual health of the individual (and thereby the community), the most likely setting of it is then in the worship service. Therefore, this technical term does not merely seem to indicate a community of Christians, but rather even more narrowly, that community at worship.

This does challenge Dibelius’s view that ekklesia was used for the ideal Jewish community wherein synagogue was used to describe the actual community that could be observed.[10] However, while this distinction is not unknown in second temple Jewish literature, it is very rare. Due to this, very few commentaries follow Dibelius in this view.[11] The concept of ekklesia was so dominated by Christian communities that it was almost completely abandoned in later Jewish literature.[12] This makes Dibelius’s view possible, but unlikely.

Synagogue

What is far more striking than the concept of ekklesia being a technical term for “church” in this text is the non-technical use of synagogue in this text. Readers should not read into this text a Jewish community gathering, rather, it should simply be translated as “gatherings together” or more colloquially “meetings.”

The text in its context concerns partiality among the community:

My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in  our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly (synagogue), and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?[13]

This text then uses the term in a discussion about judgment and partiality among the community.

Some translators have seen in the text this as a worship assembly that is Christian, but is at a stage of Christianity that is so early that synagogue and ekklesia are synonyms.[14] This reading however is neither necessary nor the simplest reading possible. If the terms were simply synonyms, why is it that the different ones are used in one work that is no more than five chapters? Further, their contexts seem rather different. One is a clear ritual of the elders saving the soul whereas the other is a chastisement for inequality of treatment of members of the community. Therefore, it is relatively unlikely that these terms could have simply been “interchanged” without affecting the meaning. The far simpler solution is that the two terms do indeed present two separate contexts.

The concept of these terms indicating separate settings is supported by Ward’s observation that the discussion concerning partiality might fit better into the context of judicial practice rather than cultic worship. Ward argues that there was good Jewish precedent for making the poor “sit under the footstool” of “stand” in judgment whereas the nobility or “rich” would stand and present their case. Therefore, there was good Jewish law to prohibit such distinction.[15] This would, therefore, pull the context of synagogue away from a worship center and simply mean a “meeting.”

Ward’s point concerning judicial practice is supported by Luke Timothy Johnson’s convincing argument that Leviticus 19 governs much of James 2. Johnson rightly points out that Leviticus 19:8 is quoted in James 2:8, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” However, Johnson convincingly argues that the whole of Leviticus 19 is known by the author and is used throughout to prove his point – particularly concerning partiality and judgment.[16] Among the parallels is one particularly helpful passage for this context, “You shall not render and unjust judgment; you shall not be partial to the poor or defer to the great: with justice you shall judge your neighbor.”[17] This context is judicial rather than cultic and once again would pull the term synagogue away from a description of community worship and into a description of simple meetings.

Kloppenborg’s analysis of this passage as a critique of patronage further supports the concept of synagogue as a non-technical term. While Kloppenborg begins his article by attempting to show how patronage was present in Jewish synagogues based upon seating, it is by no means restricted to that.[18] Kloppenborg argues that the primary context for the passage of the two men who have to sit/stand is one of honor based upon the patronage language very common in the first century Roman world. This concept being far more common outside of Jewish communities than inside of them, does not by any means require a Jewish synagogue context. Kloppenborg likely shows how it could be found in Jewish synagogues merely so that he can convince readers that this was present in that context as well – so that no objections can be raised. It is indeed true that after showing how it could be discussed in the context of the Jewish synagogue all of his arguments are with non Christian sources – Pseudo-Cicero, Quintilian, Hermogenes, and Seneca.

Through this analysis, it seems that the simplest reading is that the term synagogue is not used a technical term for the Jewish synagogue in the text; whereas ekklesia does seem to be used as a technical term for the Christian worship assembly.

Conclusion

The implications for the distinction between the two terms could have some significance for the audience (and possibly author) of this epistle. The addressees of this epistle, “to the twelve tribes in the diaspora”[19] has been alternatively described as Jewish Christians, Jews (who were not Christians), Christian and non Christian Jews, and non-Jewish Christians who were the spiritual Israel. The purpose of this short essay is not to make a judgment on those distinctions, but rather to bring a piece of evidence that may aid in clarifying the position.

For the term synagogue not to be used technically as the Jewish assembly but the term ekklesia to be used technically to describe Christian worship would seem to challenge the concept that this text was written either to non-Christian Jews or solely Jewish Christians. Rather, it would seem more likely that this distinction would be made written to a group for whom “synagogue” did not create an automatic picture of the Jewish worship gathering in mind. Thus some aspect of gentile Christianity would seem to be present in the mindset of the believers hearing this epistle.

This one point, of course, does not solve the problem of the addressees completely, but it does seem to be an important piece that is thus far not primarily discussed.[20] It seems that the discussion concerning the addressees usually revolve around the meaning of “twelve tribes in the diaspora” and the use of the Jewish law in the text. I therefore, humbly provide this small detail as being one worth considering in the larger discussion.  

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[1] L. Massebieau, “L’Epitre de Jacques est-elle l’oeuvre d’un chretien?” RHR 32 (1895), 249-283 and F. Spitta, “Der Brief des Jakobus” in Zur Geschichte und Litterature des Urchristentums (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1896), 1-239 and A. Meyer, Das Ratsel des Jacobsriefes (Giessen: Topelmann, 1930).

[2] See for instance, The prohibition against oaths in James 5:12 corresponding with Matt. 5:33-37 or the royal law from Lev. 19:18 also quoted by Jesus in Mark 12:28-31 and parallels. Scholars have noted the similarity to sayings of Jesus which has led some to make strong correlations between James and the Q sayings source behind the Gospel. See, for example, Patrick J. Hartin, James and the Q Sayings of Jesus (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991).

[3] James 5:13-15 (NRSV).

[4] There is a Jewish precedent that did occur as presented by Sophie Laws, A Commentary on the Epistle of James (San Francisco: Harper & Row Publishers, 1980), 226-227.

[5] I Timothy 4:14.

[6] Acts 15:2,4; 21:18.

[7] 1 Timothy 5:17: “Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching.”

[8] James 1:21.

[9] For the full argument on how this ritual was most certainly a spiritual rather than physical healing, see Strange, James, The Moral World of James: Setting the Epistle in its Greco-Roman and Judaic Environments, Peter Lang, 2010.

[10] Martin Dibelius and Heinrich Greeven, James trans. Michael Williams (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976), 133.

[11] See Laws, James, 100.

[12] See James Hardy Ropes, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle of James (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1916), 188-189.

[13] James 2:1-4.

[14] See Bo Reicke, The Epistle of James, Peter, and Jude (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, 1964), 27 and James B. Adamson, The Epistle of James (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1976), 105.

[15] Ward, Roy Bowen Jr. “Partiality in the Assembly, James 2.2-4” Harvard Theological Review (1969) 87-97.

[16] Johnson, L.T. “The Use of Leviticus 19 in the Letter of James” JBL 101 (1982), 391-401.

[17] Lev. 19:15.

[18] John S. Kloppenborg, “Patronage avoidance in James” Hervormde Teologiese Studies 55 (4), Nov. 1999, 755-794.

[19] James 1:1b.

[20] I hesitate to say that this discussion is not covered by scholarship as the study of the New Testament has been done so widely and deeply that whenever one proclaims something “completely new,” that one is almost always proved wrong. I instead make a far more cautious statement that I have not seen this as a primary discussion point for the study of James among modern commentators in the English language in the past several decades.  

David Kohl, Lutherans on the Yangtze: A Centenary Account of the Missouri Synod in China Volume 1: 1912-1952, Portland : One Spirit Press, 2013, ISBN 9781893075429.

Update: The review of the second volume of this book can be found at http://bennickodemus.blogspot.com/2014/10/david-kohl-with-consultation-with-hank.html
It is recommended one read this post first before one reads the review of the second volume as I have elaborated on many of the same themes.


[Proviso – I write this review with little knowledge of the history of missions in the LCMS, the History of China, and certainly not the history of the LCMS missionaries in China. I am a historian of the ancient world and I will, therefore, provide absolutely no critique of the content of the material for its accuracy. I, rather, will provide this merely insofar as it is a history of a religious movement. I will consider how it presents its case as a history and what elements are laudable and what lead the reader to ask further questions. I leave it to those more knowledgeable than me in these areas to verify/challenge the content presented in this book]

David Kohl’s Lutherans on the Yangtze is a valuable, timely, and important book for the modern history of global missions. As a history it does a very good job presenting the events of the LCMS missionary movement in China and showing how those events were predicated upon by external circumstances (most notably China’s tenuous political history and the developing relationship between the missionaries in China with the governing bodies of the LCMS in St. Louis). Further, Kohl’s book does more than merely narrate events, but the author has clearly taken pains by use of a variety of visual depictions (photographs, illustrations, and maps) to create a visual as well as written history of the period. The book admits not to attempt to judge the history of the church, only to report. This is the books greatest strength and simultaneously its greatest limitation.

Kohl writes this book in a timely manner for two primary reasons. The first is that this book is written after one hundred years of the mission in China (with its beginnings being, give or take – depending upon what one counts as a beginning) in 1912. This then provides a rich history of continuity and change that can display how a missionary movement adapts to radically different circumstances. The second reason this book is timely is quoted in the first printed line of the book – a preface by Mel Kieschnick, “Lutherans on the Yangtze needs to be written now because the number of those who are still alive to tell and weave the details is shrinking.”[1] This harsh reality is something that has encouraged a variety of different missionary movements to write their history before it is lost from memory.[2] The information preserved here would have been much harder to obtain at much later of a date and as such it is a valuable resource. The history of modern world missions is of vital importance to the understanding of the development of religious movements, cultural interaction over time and tradition, and an important element in modern globalization. As such, this book is apropos in both scholarly and devotional circles.

Kohl, like any good historian, shows his principles from which he will present his monograph. He presents the heuristic plan of non-judgment in presentation of the history of the missionary movement:

My goal is to present balanced information on internal issues, set into the context of local and world history and cultural trends. I hope to act as a reporter, no judge. I’ve found myself more interested in origins than developments – how programs and projects began. Perspective and hindsight are usually 20-20. I’m not about discrediting anyone or judging philosophies, programs or institutions. My goal is to record objectively how well-intentioned (but sometimes ill-founded or inexperienced) individuals and institutions sought to carry out their understanding of God’s will. Directors, commissions, boards, auxiliary organizations, and lay people all played their roles.[3]

Kohl displays his primary interests – in reporting on the events of the mission without judgment so that the book would be of interest to the widest possible readership. He presents a hermeneutic of respect and holds true to that hermeneutic throughout his text.

The values of the text are many. First, Kohl shows advanced research from the founding of the society to its major shift in 1949 at the close of the book (setting up therefore, the second volume). His bibliography is lengthy and he clearly has referenced a variety of primary texts in order to inform this history. The result then is less of a story of the memory of a handful of those still alive, but rather a far more complete history considering all of the information available.

The second value is that Kohl does a good job not only narrating the events, but historiographically explaining the circumstances that led to the events. For instance, rather than simply beginning the text with the founding of the mission by Edward Arndt, it begins with the circumstances that caused Arndt to create the mission. It does a good job showing why Arndt personally was inspired (some of which was the great missionary opportunity to a country where 99 percent of the people had never heard the gospel message – according to a report he read) and part due to his dissatisfaction with his current teaching post at Concordia St. Paul involving a personal conflict with a student and the handling of that conflict by CSP.[4] Further, it discusses the reasons why the LCMS[5] did not originally fund Arndt’s mission proposal and how Arndt raised public awareness and created a society larger than the Missouri Synod that actually funded his mission to China.[6] Kohl does a good job of causally explaining the circumstances that led to this conclusion rather than simply providing the data, making this a true work of history rather than simply a timeline.

To provide causal links once the mission was begun in China, it is important for the reader to understand the tumultuous political climate in China during the time period the book covers. Kohl does a good job presenting enough of the political history for readers to understand the new crisis facing the mission, but not so much that the book becomes a history of China that presents so much information that the very small Lutheran mission is lost in the macro-scale discussions of political turmoil of the largest country on earth.[7]

The book shows how the mission adapted to political and cultural change over time. However, Kohl shows a type of continuity within that cultural change by presenting the entire narrative as the narrative of a family.[8] This analogy is rather helpful as it shows how the long duree of Edward Arndt (until his death in 1929) set the precedent for the type of work done and through some of his literal family (as many of his children continued the work) as well as his legacy, there was essential continuity in the midst of necessitating change. The text does a good job showing the interconnections between the various missionaries and the way in which the values and principles were simultaneously adaptable as well as inalienable principles that could never be changed.[9]

What sets Kohl’s book off from many histories of different religious movements is the number of photographs which he presents in the text. Kohl has dedicated nearly every other page to photographs of relevant figures, cultural artifacts, and geographical locations. Usually histories of time periods have a few short sections of photos, but this book exceeds them all in the sheer number of visible displays. This allows the reader not only to read and consider the development of the figures and places in the book, but it also allows them to see it. This makes it a robust text that has feeling.

Finally, the book does a good job of using its hermeneutic of respect. It would have been very easy to paint the Board of Foreign Missions or the Synod in St. Louis as distant figures who caused more problems than they solved (particularly in a few cases); however, Kohl does a good job remaining balanced and simply explaining what happened, why it happened and moving one without judgment.

The challenges to the book are precisely found in its values – its nonjudgmental attitude using the hermeneutic of respect did not allow for as much of a hermeneutic of suspicion to accompany it.[10] At many points, one wonders what the conflicting viewpoints of the history might have been that could have led to a more robust explanation of what occurred. Kohl attempts to present “both sides” of the story, but in so doing, he does not make that critical judgment that a historically robust work is bold to do.

The second major challenge is the relative paucity of dialogue with primary sources in the text. It is obvious that the book is well researched and built upon the primary sources, but in the actual narrative presented, the quoting of them is infrequent. The text is lauded for creating such complete pictures of the missionaries (particularly Edward Arndt), but it loses something when we cannot hear from Arndt himself. For example, Kohl describes Arndt’s letters and newsletter which he used to promote his mission to China,[11] further, there is even a photograph of one of the issues;[12] however, there is no quotation of the newsletter itself to let the reader see the type of argument Arndt made to the larger audience.

The reasons for Kohl’s reticence to quote are probably twofold and more than likely forgivable – the first is brevity. There was an obvious interest in keeping this volume brief as Kohl points out that each chapter deserves its own book[13] and recognizes that the book could have easily been twice as long. The second reason is that this book is not written as a scholarly exhaustive account.[14] This indicates that the book was not primarily interested in citing sources in text throughout the history (primarily – it is done on some occasions) and as such, direct quotations would also be of secondary interest.

The more significant challenge lies in the book’s interest in the events of what happened through cause and effect, but sometimes it lacked the discussion of how things occurred on the ground. This is precisely the goal Kohl presents as depicting “how programs and projects began.” However, the reader has very serious questions about what was exactly happening in many places. For instance, the development of the mission field and how it finally came about, where the developments was located (down to the very buildings), the development of those particular buildings to other ones in the decades that followed, the local culture and associations, and even the cuisine are carefully depicted. However, the central gospel message that was presented is not particularly developed (except when it came into conflict such as the model of Baptism[15]). For instance, how key were Lutheran doctrines in the process? Was Law and Gospel primarily preached? Were sacraments presented in the same way in China as in America? How much was this message dependent upon accepting Western values and how much was refigured for the local culture?[16] This key point was missing and considering the adaptation/continuity presented throughout the book, it might have been interesting to see if this was primarily changed – were there key differences in the emphasis of the Christian gospel at different times that happens so often in Christian churches?[17] I should point out that when this was in crisis – most notably with the controversy concerning the name of God in China – that Kohl does a fantastic job explaining this.[18] It is only the “day to day” theological message that is not discussed as deeply.

The final challenge to Kohl would have been helpful but perhaps not possible – statistical growth patterns of involvement in the church. It would have been helpful to get a sense for how large the congregations were over time, how many congregations there were, and their sociological elements. It is quite possible that there are simply not records for this type of analysis, but it is certainly something that would be helpful and perhaps with the second volume coming where data might be more available, this kind of analysis could be valued.

The final critique is not to Kohl but to the forward written by Rev. Paul Kreyling. Kohl’s text does a wonderful job explaining the history of the mission in China without diminutizing it for his readers nor presenting it as a narrative apologetic to recruit missionaries. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of Kreyling’s forward.  

It presents an appeal that those who are “able” will go to a mission:

Missionaries, single, or married, have gone because they have received that precious gift of God we call faith, and the Christ-like love which is engendered in them by that faith. Actually, all of us who have received that gift of faith have also received that command of Jesus to “Go!” Not necessarily go overseas, or even to remote parts of our own country. It is obvious that not all of us are able to heed that call by journeying and living abroad.[19]

This is troubling on a few levels. First, it is probably true that some are not able to handle overseas mission; however, the way that Kreyling has described it, it sets the call of the missionary over and above all other calls. The only good reason, seemingly, for someone not to travel and become a missionary is that they “are not able to heed that call.” This implies that everyone has that same call. Consequently, it is therefore only those who have the call and do not answer it who are “allowed” not to travel overseas. This is troubling Lutheran theology – which should hold that there is no value judgment of holiness upon calls from God in the priesthood of believers (and certainly no idea that all are called to specifically do mission work overseas). While this was probably a well meaning passage trying to honor those who have worked overseas, it does not set the fair tone of the book. This discussion would be appropriate for a book that is trying to encourage readers to consider overseas mission work. However, Kohl’s book is not about that – it is a history of a mission that has an appeal to a wide variety of readers without value judgment. The concern is that such a forward could “turn off” the reader who is interested in the text for a variety of reasons that might not have to do with consideration of entering foreign missions oneself.

In all, this book is very much worth the read. It presents an account of the missionary endeavors into China by the LCMS. It is work that has not been done before and Kohl’s historical narrative paired with his abundant photographic and documentary supplements create an engaging book that ought to be read as a good history of a hitherto untold story of the Lutheran

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[1] Mel Kieschnick, “Preface” in Lutherans on the Yangtze, (Portland: One Spirit Press, 2013), vi.

[2] See for instance, John Eggert’s S.T.M. Thesis, Fifty Years of Theological Education in the Gutnius Lutheran Church of Papua New Guinea 1948-1998 (Concordia Seminary St. Louis, 2003).

[3] Kohl, Lutherans on the Yangtze, xvii.

[4] Ibid., 3-7.

[5] I will use that term even though at the time the name of the synod was the Evangelical Lutheran Synod of Missouri, Ohio, and other States.

[6] Ibid., 9-11.

[7] See particularly Ibid., 13-27, 91-101, 133-143.

[8] Ibid., xvi.

[9] To borrow a concept most compellingly displayed by Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed: Religious Developments in Morocco and Indonesia (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1968), 1-4.

[10] For the dynamics of this balance, see Hugh Urban, The Church of Scientology: A History of a New Religion (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011).  

[11] Kohl, Lutherans on the Yangtze, 11.

[12] Ibid., 4.

[13] Ibid., xvii.

[14] Ibid., 185.

[15] Ibid., 31-33.

[16] The reader is left to assume that at least some implantation of LCMS customs were adopted as a key development was the translation of German hymns into Chinese – however, there is no real reason to think that indicated that all of life was to change to a Western one – it probably did not.

[17] See for a very different situation, James K. Wellman Jr. From the Gold Coast Church to the Ghetto: Christ and Culture in Mainline Protestantism (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1999) for how a church in Chicago changed its primary emphasis in the gospel over a time period approximating the same for the mission in China.

[18] Kohl, Lutherans on the Yangtze, 85-103.

[19] Paul Kreyling “Forward” Lutherans on the Yangtze, xii, emphasis mine.

The Signs of Jesus: Wedding at Cana as Case Study

[As a proviso, this paper was written as a homily given to the Concordia University community at their daily chapel. As such, it is not as academic as much of my work usually is and cannot stand up to a barrage of academic scrutiny. I have limited the citing of sources to the bare minimum and have not contributed anything especially "new" about the text. However, I do think that the general argument is sound and I present it as it might be of interest to a larger audience.]

The infamous “wedding at Cana” pericope has the danger of being so familiar that readers do not pause to see the confusions in the text. Here, this essay will present some of the odd components of the text and then discuss the key to understanding the theological significance of the pericope by discussing the concept of signs.

First, the text as it stands is unusual, not only in the Gospel of John, but in any gospel. What is striking is first how Jesus performs the miracle. Miracles are often categorized as such because they are very public acts. This miracle, the reader will note, is something that Jesus does with seemingly relatively few people recognizing. The chief steward is confused and all he can do is marvel at the situation. We are told that the servants knew what had happened, but there is no seeming transference of that knowledge. The disciples, at the end, are told that on account of this, they believe, so we assume that they must have knowledge of what happened. However, this is formally different than the miracles Jesus did in that it is not a public event.

Another oddity is how Jesus performed the miracle. Here, Jesus is asked to perform a miracle (even though he seemingly had never done one before), refuses to do it,[1] then does it in a very inconspicuous way. All Jesus does is tell the servants to fill water jugs and then bring them to the chief steward. Usually (but not always) when Jesus does miracles it is accompanied by a gesture or saying. Here there is nothing except for a few seemingly mundane directions.

The largest oddity is how brief this narrative is. There are several characters introduced who then have nothing else to do with the story. For instance, it begins with Jesus’ mother who asks Jesus what to do and then gives a direction to the servants and then disappears. Then the servants are discussed, they do what Jesus commands and the water has turned to wine. They have a brief aside mentioning that they know what happened, but then the author moves away from it and we don’t know where that is going. The chief steward is mentioned and is perplexed, completely misunderstands the situation and never receives resolution. The disciples are mentioned at the end of the pericope with no seeming part in anything that preceded it – readers are left to assume the disciples knew what occurred, but there is really nothing that says that. What is most striking is Jesus’ role in the text. He has a terse conversation with his mother and two directives to the servants and he is not mentioned again. The entire text is clipped.

The reason this text is so clipped is that it is present less to tell the precise story of what happened at the particular wedding as much as it is completing the call of the disciples and giving the reader a clue as who Jesus is and how he will operate throughout the gospel. First, it should be noted that this is called “The first of his signs in Cana of Galilee.” The word “first” here can mean chronologically first, but it can also have the sense of first in value. The word arche has the meaning of something far closer to “type” or “pattern” and rather than this merely being a comment about this text being the chronologically first sign that Jesus did (which it probably is), it is telling the reader to watch for this pattern and style of behavior.[2] Jesus will work in signs (and indeed will perform 6 more) with this same effect.

The effect of the sign is “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” From his action, the disciples believe in him. The signs, in the Gospel of John, eventuate belief. What is particularly interesting is how they do that. To understand that, it is necessary to discuss what a “sign” is and why that term is particularly used in this text.

To understand the use of the term “sign,” it is necessary to look to its parallel in the Old Testament. The term itself could be used in a variety of ways, but when paired with mighty works of power, it leads immediately to think of the “signs” Moses performed among the Egyptians. These signs of course, are the ten plagues that God, through Moses and Aaron, inflicts upon the Egyptians. The text shows the use of this term:

Go to Pharaoh, for I have hardened his heart and the hearts of his officials, in order that I may show these signs of mine among them, and that you may tell your children and grandchildren how I have made fools of the Egyptians and what the signs have done among them – so that you may know that I am the Lord.[3]

What is notable is that the term “sign” is used for a powerful act. In the case of Moses, the powerful act was one that was a destructive act, but the pairing is helpful.

The second piece of information about signs is that they are called “signs” because a sign points to a referent. Miracles are not done in order to convince people to believe. Miracles are done to present something that otherwise could not be. In the Gospel of John, by calling them signs, the miracles are linguistically always reminding the readers that the signs are to lead them to some larger point.

This is precisely what is found in Exodus. The plagues continue not because God needs to convince Pharaoh to allow the people to go (he was already convinced, God had to harden his heart), they were done “so that you (Hebrews) may know that I am the Lord.” The signs are done to point to the identity of God and how he acts upon his people.

The Gospel of John uses this same idea to great effect. The miracles are never done just so people can be convinced to follow Jesus (in fact it does not work that way at all); rather, the miracles are done to point to a larger truth about Christ. In the Gospel of John the signs point to Christ’s glory – which then leads to belief. This is displayed after Jesus changes the water to wine, “Jesus did this, the first of his signs in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.” The signs are present so that his disciples might understand who he truly is.

The key to understanding the significance of the revelation is in the definition of the term “glory.” Glory is a term that implies the presence of God. It is impossible to see God and live. God is too powerful and other for humans to comprehend this side of eternity. However, when God is present, what emanates from him is glory. Therefore, glory is what humans can see of the divine. This is now explaining the significance of the scene – the sign points to Jesus’ true identity – as being one with the Father. This is foreshadowed in the prologue: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” (1:15) The disciples, after seeing the sign, are led to the referent – Jesus himself as he really is.

The conclusion of the text concerning the disciples helps illustrate what the purpose of this first sign is – to complete the original call of the disciples themselves. Just before this text, Jesus has called his first disciples and he says,

Jesus answered, ‘Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.’ ⁵¹And he said to him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.’[4]

The text promises that the disciples, in the future, will see the Son of Man as he truly is (using a reference to Jacob’s ladder). They have been told, but through his work, the disciples will see. Just as with God, it is not possible to see the Son completely, but they certainly can see his glory. This is precisely why the text says that Jesus “revealed his glory.” A revelation is something seen. Therefore, this sign (and all of the signs) are set in order to complete the calling of the disciples.

This leads to the fundamental element of all of Jesus’ miracles – they are relational. Jesus does not do miracles merely to convince people that he is real (despite modern thinking to the contrary), he performs miracles in relationship. Usually it changes every relationship – with the one receiving the miracle, the disciples, his opponents and the like.[5] It is very rare for anyone to see the miracle and not define their relationship with Christ based upon that reaction. That makes this text slightly odd in that we are told of two characters in the text who knew what happened (Jesus’ mother and the servants) and we do not know their reactions. However, the reason the Gospel of John has not presented it is that the focus, as stated above, is on the disciples. The sign is something that points them to the referent – namely Christ as he truly is.

Given the function of signs, it is in only this gospel that the signs are disputed. If one “sees the sign,” then it necessitates that it points out the referent. Therefore, opponents of Jesus, who do not recognize the referent, have no choice but to question if Jesus actually performed the miracles or not. This is most famously illustrated in John 9 at the healing of the man born blind: “The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight.”[6] This is in direct contrast with the synoptic gospels where Jesus performs miracles (rather than signs) and there is no question by anyone in the crowd that he performed them. The question rather is the source of his power (from God or from Satan): “And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, ‘He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.’”[7] This is not done in the Gospel of John because if someone admitted the sign, it leads directly to the referent. That is precisely what the Gospel of John wants and how it functions for people.

Finally, signs are not everything in the Gospel of John. Signs lead one to see the glory of Christ, but that does not mean that one understands them or accepts why this is the case. Throughout the gospel of John, people see the signs, it leads them to see Christ’s glory, but they do not truly believe. Most famously, in John 6, after Jesus has performed the sign of the feeding of the five thousand, he explains that one should not follow simply because they saw the sign (and implied its referent), but because they are truly followers. He then explains that it is only those who drink down his blood and gnaw on his flesh who truly follow him and a large number of the followers leave.

The signs therefore, are a first step. Jesus makes clear throughout the text that he wants far more than someone who admires his glory and therefore follows. He wants a mystical relationship with the community that is as united with him as he is with the father. After the first sign, he then has his activity in the temple. After this, Jesus reflects on the signs:

When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. ²⁴But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people ²⁵and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.[8]

Jesus knows what is in everyone and thereby also knew he was not there. His goal for humanity was unity with him: “I am in the Father and you are in me, and I am in you.”[9] It is this type of unity that Jesus seeks in the Gospel of John. This can begin with the signs, but it depends upon something far more than that.

The reason Jesus never proves who he is or what his purpose is in the Gospels through miracles is that it would not prove all that much. It might be able to convince people to recognize Christ as some type of divine being – but it would not lead them to what is true faith – the faith expressed at the end of the gospel, “for those who have not seen and yet have believed.”[10]

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[1] As a very brief note, it should be pointed out that Jesus’ curt response to the request for the miracle is consistent throughout the gospel whenever someone asks him to perform a sign. He does it, but only after making a rather short comment. See 4:47 and 11:3.

[2] John P. Meier, The Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, Volume II: Mentor Message and Miracles (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 943.

[3] Exodus 10:1-2.

[4] John 1:50-51.

[5] John P. Meier, The Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, Volume II: Mentor Message and Miracles (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 543. 

[6] John 9:18.

[7] Mark 3:22.

[8] John 2:23-25.

[9] John 13:20.

[10] John 20:29b.

Review of Bart Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery: the Use of Literary Deceit in Early Christian Polemics, Oxford: OUP, 2013.

Bart Ehrman’s recent book presents an important thesis challenging the assertion that pseudonymity (falsely named works) in antiquity was a common practice that was widely accepted. His argument, on polemical pseudonymity, discusses the concept of pseudonymity and the reasons it was done both in theory (in the first section) and in practice (by covering a wide range of pseudonymous writings in the first several centuries of Christianity). Ehrman’s argument convinces that pseudonymity was done to be in dialogue with the other works by the same author in order to clarify (or perhaps argue a new point) but struggles to convince when Ehrman tries to do much and overstates his case about authorship and deceit.

First, it is necessary to clarify the nature of this book. Most have become familiar with  Bart Ehrman for his overly popularized works that hit the New York Times bestseller list which he regularly publicizes by getting into faux debates with popular media personalities such as Stephen Colbert. These works, such as Misquoting Jesus, Forged, Jesus Interrupted, Behind the Da Vinci Code, Why the Bible Doesn’t Solve the Problem of Evil, The Lost Gospel of Judas, and Peter Paul and Mary Magdalene, are rightly criticized as being fantastical and frankly not very precise on scholarly grounds. His popular success has brought with it scholarly skepticism and dismissal.[1] This book is not one that fits into that category. This volume is a scholarly piece made for scholars (but readable enough for the larger audience) and is over 500 pages of an academic argument. This volume is far closer in tone to his Orthodox Corruption of Scripture early in his career. Therefore, while most of his works are not written to stand up to scholarly scrutiny, this one is and therefore ought to be analyzed in that context.

Brief Summary of the Argument

Ehrman directly acknowledges that this work is in continuity with Wolfgang Speyer’s now famous comprehensive work on the topic.[2]  However, Ehrman’s goals are far narrower than Speyer’s. Ehrman only discusses pseudonymity that has polemical aims.[3] He does this, most probably, because this includes all of the works called pseudonymous in the New Testament (though Ehrman includes many texts that are not part of the New Testament in his analysis).

Ehrman argues that pseudonymity should best be considered forgery. He argues throughout the volume that our modern concept of forgery is not unlike the ancient one and therefore the term should be employed. He argues that the idea of pseudonymity (or perhaps pseudepigraphy) is neutral and that it is better considered with the connotation that forgery holds. While I am not sure I completely agree with Ehrman on this point, I will use his term “forgery” throughout the summary of his work for ease of explanation.

Ehrman acknowledges that it is a common view that our concept of forgery is a modern one that did not exist in antiquity. He addresses the issue and argues that there is very little evidence to suggest that this was not seen as a “problem” in antiquity. He argues that it is quite true that forgery was common among Christian and non-Christian works.[4] Ehrman argues that the weight evidence of the practice (when it is discussed at all) lies upon the side of its inappropriate nature rather than its value. For instance, he quotes Martial objecting to someone writing in his name:

My page has not wounded even those it justly hates, and fame won with another’s blush is not dear to me! What does this avail me when certain folk would pass off as mine darts wet with the blood of Lycambes, and under my name a man vomits his viperous venom who owns he cannot bear the light of day?[5]

And then further:

If some malignant fellow claim as mine poems that are steeped in black venom, do you lend me a patron’s voice, and with all your strength and without stopping shout, ‘My Martial did not write that?”[6]

Martial here clearly is not fond of some of the work that is presented in his name challenging the idea that it was “standard practice.”

Erhman points out that in addition to the practice being objected to, there is some evidence that there was even some serious punishment that could be meted out upon a forger. For instance, he cites Josephus who tells a story where forgery led to capital punishment: “Diophantes, a secretary of the king, an audacious fellow, who had the clever knack of imitating any handwriting; and who, after numerous forgeries, was eventually put to death for a crime of that nature.”[7] The only problem with Ehrman’s source here is that the nature of what this certain Diophanes was said to have been forging was, after all, treason (the assassination of Herod). Therefore, it is unclear which act caused the capital punishment.  However, it is fair to say that there were consequences in some cases (though admittedly rare).

Ehrman further argues that all pseudepigraphy is deceit (and therefore forgery). Ehrman argues that a forgery has as its goal convincing the readers that someone wrote the piece that did not. This therefore should be considered forgery. Here is Ehrman’s real presentation of how all forgery should be seen together.[8] Ehrman challenges the common assertion that these forgeries were done with goodA intentions to honor the original author. He suggests that this idea comes from Tertullian’s famous quip that the author of the Acts of Paul wrote the treatise “for the love and honor of Paul.”[9] Ehrman argues that this was different in that it was not a forgery – just a false story (it is an anonymous document). However, the fine point of Erhman’s argument is that even if the author was doing it for the best intentions, it is still deceitful (the author was arguing that he/she wrote something he/she did not).[10]

Given this framework for deceit, the only way anything would not be deceptive, according to Ehrman, is if the “lie” was transparent. He dialogues with some scholars who hold this theory and argues that it does not convince. His main evidence for that is how quickly it was read as if it were written by the authors. He uses the example of the Pastoral Epistles. While it is true that the vast majority of scholars now understand these as forgeries does not mean that the same was true in antiquity.[11] Due to Ehrman’s very narrow definition of what makes something honorable – essentially only if it was not truly a pseudonym at all (i.e. if everyone knew who the real author was), he essentially creates his own data. If all motivation is “the same” as either being deceptive or not, then all forgeries can easily be gathered together.

Following this theoretical interest in the concept of forgery, Ehrman follows with 400 pages which deal with particular texts that he considers forged. In that, he shows that not only was there many forgeries, but that they were polemical. This is his completion of his previous argument – forgery was not primarily done to honor the author, the forgeries were done to prove a polemical point. It is from this platform that he develops the idea of both forgery and counterforgery. He argues that the main use of forgery was polemics with other texts and therefore demanded that they have equal texts written by the author himself. He considers evidence such as 2 Thessalonians 2:2 which argues against letters “as though by us” – seeming to suggest that there is a previous letter claiming to be written by Paul that now needs to be challenged (which is done by another forgery to challenge that previous one).  

To support his theory, Ehrman focuses on dialogue between New Testament texts. It is long known that many texts in the New Testament seem to refer to other texts which need to be clarified. This is probably most famously done between James 2 and Galatians/Romans. For communities that did not know what Torah was (and therefore what Paul could mean when he discusses the “works of the Torah”), it was necessary to clarify that position with the common definitions of the terms for a completely Gentile audience. The best way to make sure one compared one text with another was to simply use the same name as the author. This had the double benefit of causing one to compare the works as well as give it the needed authority to take the alternate opinion seriously.

Erhman’s work is wide ranging in that he covers a variety of different topics that are developed to clarify issues via counterforgery (from eschatology to the use of the body). It is further wide ranging in its contents – it covers all of the texts in the New Testament that are usually considered forgeries in addition to several dozen other early Christian works that are considered forgeries and are polemical. The specific topics he discusses for each of these texts will not be presented in this review because the conversations are not surprising. Ehrman has a very good compendium of thoughts on these issues but for the most part, his work does not present anything that is not well known – he simply puts them all in one place.

Response to Ehrman

The relatively lengthy summary above indicated Ehrman’s main thesis – that Christians used literary deceit to prove a polemical point. Ehrman’s best argument is that texts were made to be in dialogue with other texts. This is precisely the point of having any conversation about authorship. Once one moves beyond the relatively elementary discussions of scriptural authority - after all, we do not know of a single author of the Old Testament (with the possible exception of Ezekiel) but do not consider them as less authoritative than other texts for that reason - then it is possible to see the practical value of the authorship question. The practical value is if we expect one text to be able to be interpreted by another from the same author (and therefore, one needs to know whether those two authors are truly the same).

Ehrman’s argument shows that the actual authors of pseudonymous works knew that these would be compared with other works by the same author and welcomed it. They wanted their texts to clarify how some were reading others. For instance, Ehrman argues that Colossians and Ephesians were written to counter an eschatological reading of Paul which he sees found in 2 Thessalonians (which in itself in 2:2 suggests is trying to counter a pseudonymous letter of Paul).[12]

Ehrman’s struggle here is that he tries to do too much. If he had left the conversation at the level of texts and communities, his above argument would have been more convincing. However, he instead pushes the conversation into the philosophical question of authorship. Authorship is a very difficult concept that includes many different aspects. An “author” is something that often is presented as the originator of the idea – but does that always mean the same person who wrote the treatise? Further, when is a work complete? What edition of the work is the “true work?” Can someone use a second editor and still maintain the work as his or her own? If a text is edited over time (as ancient manuscripts were), can it still be claimed as belonging to the original writer of the work? If Ehrman had simply argued on the level of a community, he would not have had this problem.

Ehrman was probably loath to work on the level of community because it challenges one of his major points. He wanted to argue that any author claiming to be Paul (but who was not) was therefore practicing deceit. However, if a Pauline community put together a communal document, the challenge that one person was claiming to be someone he was not is not as strong. Instead, the community could be putting the name of the entire community upon its founder – a far less scandalous claim. According to Ehrman’s very narrow definition of what is “deceit” and not, this still would qualify, but in a far more understandable light.

The second consequence of focus on authorship and dialogue is that he does not frame this in the far more standard position of all texts in the New Testament (forged or not) dialoguing with one another. One work which he does not consider forged (and neither do I) is the Apocalypse of John. Because it is not forged, it is not part of his discussion. However, he does discuss 1 Peter and Pauline letters. It is hard to imagine the Apocalypse without 1 Peter and a serious claim can be made that one of them knows the other. Further, Elaine Pagels (building upon the work of Paul Duff) has argued that the Apocalypse was partly directed toward Pauline Christianity which allowed the eating of food sacrificed to idols.[13] Whether one accepts this interpretation or not, it clearly shows that there is some type of dialogue between the texts. It simply is not part of Ehrman’s discussion because there is no particular issue of authorship with Paul’s letters and the Apocalypse. The problem this causes is not so much that he needs to discuss all aspect of dialogue, but that he does not even attempt to suggest that this type of dialogue between texts using authorship is part of a much wider phenomenon within the New Testament itself. Indeed much of the reason the canon of the New Testament includes 27 books rather than one is that it dialogues with itself.

Another serious challenge to his discussion of forgery is his inclusion of several texts that are not necessarily forged. He argues that the Book of James, Hebrews, and the Acts of the Apostles are forged. His argument of James seems unnecessary. If one were to stubbornly insist that the leader of the Jerusalem church, Jesus’ brother was the purported author, a reasonable challenge could be leveled that the work was forged. Ehrman takes this assertion as necessarily the case because there is no modifier for the author (it does not say James of any town or lineage) which would apparently mean he was “that James” (Jesus’ brother) who was so famous he did not need to identify himself any longer.[14] The problem with this thesis is that it is an argument from silence. Further, if this was Jesus’ brother, it is very surprising that he would not use that anywhere in the text. Further, this argument would present Jesus’ brother who writes a text that does not mention Jesus except for two times in passing. This is all dependent upon the idea that an unidentified James must be Jesus’ brother.

Even more question can be raised about his discussion of Acts and Hebrews. Neither of these texts states an author (and he himself calls them “non-pseudepigraphic forgery”) suggesting that they each imply an author without stating one. He points to the last chapter of Hebrews which indicates connection with Pauline authority and the four “we” sections in Acts (Acts 16,20,21,27) which have an “embedded forgery” within it as we are to conclude that the traveling companion with Paul is the author.[15] The argument of the book of Hebrews smacks of a similar tone to that of his argument concerning James. We apparently are to demand he must be “that Sylvanus.” Further, when the author is anonymous, it is hard to rule out many people. His argument about Acts would be stronger if he was able to show how the Gospel of Luke shows this same interest. As it is, he does not even mention the Gospel of Luke much less explain how that fits in the larger narrative.

It seems likely that his dependence upon authorship to discuss polemics has blurred his vision once again. If the three texts are not “forged,” then they would not be discussed in his book. He wants to discuss them so that he can show their polemical nature (something that can be reasonably asserted). This would have been solved had he simply argued his case on the concept of dialogue more than forgery. While it is not completely fair to criticize someone for not including “everything,” it is far better to avoid drawing things into the full of an argument when the evidence is so stretched. It seems far better had he simply put these as footnotes that support his main thesis if the argument of pseudonymity would hold. It does not seem to have enough weight to hold its own and unfortunately can cause a reader to dismiss larger portions of his work that are on far firmer ground.

A further clarification that would have been helpful is if he had followed Speyer’s original project. To focus solely on literary forgeries that have polemical purposes, but yet include so many in such a compendious way can mislead. There are many different causes of forgery which he would still call “deceit” even though the purposes were completely different. For instance, Pelagius’s commentary on 2 Corinthians was preserved under the name of Jerome – not so that readers would compare it and use it to interpret Jerome’s work, but only so that Pelagius’s commentary would survive rather than being destroyed as the work of a “heretic” (not considering that the content of his commentary on 2 Corinthians is really not all that divergent from standard views).[16] This type of pseudepigrapha does not directly address the issue he considers (polemics), but it does call into question one of his fundamental assertions – that authorship caused one to interpret one text by another. It certainly still holds true, but perhaps it is more complicated than the simple putting of one’s name down and the eventual consequence that others would compare and interpret that work with the other works by the same author.

In all, Ehrman’s volume is worth the read and deserves serious consideration. The final quibble I have is not so much with the work as with him. In his mass market popular book surge, I simply thought him a bit of a sloppy scholar. This book shows that he is not – he simply can choose to work harder or not on a text and to be precise or not. That to me is the worst offense at all – he has much he can offer to scholarship and the academy but usually spends his time working in hyperbole. I do think there is a very good place for scholarly work to a popular audience, but not at the cost of that scholarly work. Given this type of sophistication in his thought, Ehrman ought to look to the examples of Elaine Pagels and Robert Louis Wilken for a model to work forward to keeping scholarly integrity while appealing to a much larger audience.  

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[1] I should point out that I do not  think there is a necessary correlation between popular success and poor scholarship. Elaine Pagels, for instance, has had tremendous popular success while at the same time maintaining academic integrity and rigor in her work.

[2] Wolfgang Speyer, Die Literarische Falschung im heidnischen und christlichen Altertum: Ein Versuch ihrer Deutung (Munchen: Beck, 1971) and “Religiose Pseudepigraphie und literarische Falschung im Altertum” JAC 8/9 (1965-6: 88-125.

[3] Erhman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 5-6.

[4] Ibid., 11--92.

[5] Epigrams 7.12

[6] Epigrams 7.72 both quoted in Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 81.

[7] Josephus, Jewish War 1.26.3 quoted in Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 85.

[8] Erhman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 93-132.

[9] Tertullian, De Baptismo, 17.

[10] Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 132-137.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 156-190.

[13] See Paul B. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?: Prophetic Rivalry and the Rhetoric of Crisis in the Churches of the Apocalypse (Oxord: OUP, 2001) and Elaine Pagels, Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, & Politics in the Book of Revelation (New York : Viking Penguin, 2012).

[14] Ehrman, Forgery and Counterforgery, 282-2Pe90.

[15] Ibid., 264-265.

[16] I am thankful for Wilbert Stelzer for this insight which was developed from his unpublished dissertation, The Biblical Text of Pelagius in His Commentary on 2 Corinthians: A New Reconstruction out of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis.