Decent Films Doings: Cloudy, Ebert, Peanut Brittle and Me

SDG here. No, I’m not taking a break from my Petrine Fact series, but I won’t be able to finish another installment until next week, so a couple of things I’ve been meaning to blog for awhile.

Here is how Roger Ebert started his review of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs:

Let me search my memory. I think — no, I’m positive — this is the first movie I’ve seen where the hero dangles above a chasm lined with razor-sharp peanut brittle while holding onto a red licorice rope held by his girlfriend, who has a peanut allergy, so that when she gets cut by some brittle and goes into anaphylactic shock and her body swells up, she refuses to let go, and so the hero bites through the licorice to save her. You don’t see that every day.

And here’s how I started my review. Note especially the third paragraph:

What’s the last family film you can think of that name-checked Nikola Tesla and Alexander Graham Bell?

When in movie history has the girl ever revealed her true self and become more attractive to the hero by putting on spectacles and pulling back her hair?

And, let’s face it, when’s the last time any of us has seen a former child star wearing a giant roasted chicken battling comestible defense mechanisms while a peanut-allergic weather girl lowers the hero via licorice rappelling rope into a shaft of razor-sharp peanut brittle where the slightest scratch could prove deadly to her?

I just have to say: I love it that not only did we make essentially the same observation about so many of the same elements in our openings, we both used the same phrase “razor-sharp peanut brittle.”

That said, clearly I liked Cloudy better than Ebert (of course, Ebert hates 3‑D, which might have something to do with it), and I think the enjoyment of the film shows in my review, which was fun to write.

Gratifyingly, it looks like a lot of families are sharing the Cloudy love: Not only did it open at #1 a couple of weeks agao, it stayed in the top spot last weekend, sliding less than 20 percent (which is amazing). It’s depressing enough that G-Force, G. I. Joe and Transformers did so well without having families overlook a fun family flick like Cloudy that actually has heart and wit. (Don’t even get me started on Ponyo.)

If you only saw the trailers, Cloudy is a lot better than you think. Trust me.

Oh, and Ebert and I agree on The Informant — a deceptively amusing film for grown-ups.

My Cloudy review | My Informant review

The Petrine Fact, Part 7: And Upon This Rock, cont.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.

Those who oppose identifying Peter as the rock on which the church is built in Matthew 16:18 typically interpose one or more of the following textual objections.

First, they rely on the opposition of the terms themselves: Petra is solid rock, petros, a detached stone; they cannot mean the same thing. If Jesus had meant to say he would build his church on Peter, they argue, he could have used the same word both times. In addition, some point to certain extra-Matthean passages (e.g., 1 Cor 3:11,1 Cor 10:4, 1 Peter 2:6ff) to argue that Jesus alone is the foundation stone; he would never speak of building his church on a fallible, sinful man like Peter.

None of these objections withstands scrutiny.

Begin with petra and petros. We have already seen in Part 5 that the distinction between petra and petros, never absolute, had become increasingly fuzzy and that the terms could be used interchangeably. This has now become commonplace in Protestant commentators (F. F. Bruce, D. A. Carson, Walter Elwell, etc.; documentation to come) after being highlighted by Oscar Cullman in the 10-volume Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (Kittel 6:98-108).

In particular, documentation of the ambiguity and interchangeability of the two words has been compiled by Caragounis, who cites many instances in both secular and biblical Greek of petra as a movable stone, petros as solid rock, and both words being used indeterminately to mean such things as the substance of stone, etc. (Caragounis 10-15. Note that, despite this, Caragounis argues against the identification of Peter as the rock.)

But that’s only the first problem. Even if it were possible to make a clear opposition between the terms, that still wouldn’t prevent Jesus or anyone else from playing on two disparate words to refer to the same reality. A difference in image does not entail a difference in referent.

To give a trivial example, suppose I saw my six-year-old daughter Anna wrestling with all her might with one of her older brothers, and I said to my wife Suzanne, “Look at the kitten. There’s a wildcat in here.” Obviously kittens and wildcats are two different things, but Suzanne would hardly reason that if the kitten is Anna, the wildcat must be something else.

Kittens and wildcats are different things, but they are used here as parallel images. It is synthetic and amplifying parallelism because the second image builds and expands upon the first. There is a deliberate and ironic contrast between the first image and the second, but also obviously a connection between the two (I didn’t pick two feline images by accident). The first image might suggest something about Anna’s habitual temperament (e.g., playfulness) as well as her relative stature, maturity and appearance (e.g., cuteness); the second image offers a contrasting observation about her current disposition and behavior (unexpected ferocity), supplying a side of Anna missing in the first image.

In a not dissimilar vein, suppose we were to grant opponents of the Petrine reading their best-case scenario, and give maximal, even exaggerated force to the traditional difference between the two words, rendering Jesus’ words as: “I say to you, you are a pebble, and on this solid rock I will build my church.” Would it then follow that the “solid rock” must mean something other than the “pebble”?

Not at all. A difference in image does not entail a difference in referent. Even granting differing shades of meaning between petra and petros, the differences don’t provide the leverage needed to avoid the conclusion that Jesus is talking about Peter right through the passage. The effective interchangeability of the two words merely underscores the point.

In particular, that it is Jesus himself speaking, and that he has already spoken about Peter’s confession coming “not by flesh and blood” but by the Father’s gift, further eradicates any difficulty about seeing continuity of thought rather than disjunction. If for Jesus the very rocks will cry out (Luke 19:40), at his word a pebble can be a mighty rock and a sure foundation. We may think here of Jesus’ words to Peter in Luke 22 (Part 3), in which he prayed that Simon’s faith might not fail, that he might strengthen his brethren: praying that weak, stumbling Simon might be a firm rock.

There is a third issue, the Aramaic question. The probability that Jesus and his disciples spoke customarily Aramaic among themselves is heightened in this passage by indications of underlying Aramaic, not least the transliterated Aramaic of Simon’s existing surname, bar-Jona. (Bar-Jona, “son of John,” is Aramaic; the Hebrew form would be ben-Jona.) Semitisms like flesh and blood, the gates of hades, binding and loosing, and heaven and earth also suggest an original Hebraic context.

The Aramaic is also suggested by Jesus’ emphatic reference to Peter’s new surname. Though Matthew gives this using the familiar Greek form Petros, it is likely (as previously noted, in view of the early use of Kephas in 1 Corinthians and Galatians 1-2 as well as John 1:42) that the original form of Peter’s surname was Aramaic Kepha, followed by Grecized Kephas, and finally the Greek translation Petros. Had Jesus given Simon the fully Greek form Petros from the start, it seems unlikely that the Grecized Aramaic form Kephas would ever have arisen. (This point seems to be overlooked by many commentators, particularly in debates over the original language behind Matthew 16.)

For all these reasons, it seems highly probable that Matthew 16:17-19 reflects a conversation that originally occurred in Aramaic, and that “You are Petros” translates “You are Kepha.” How did the saying continue? Was it “You are Kepha, and on this kepha I will build my church”? This is how the text is rendered in the Peshitta, the standard Aramaic translation of the New Testament, and many scholars regard it as the likely Aramaic original. I haven’t yet seen any convincing scholarly proposal of an alternate Aramaic original, though it does seem more likely than not that if Jesus had wanted another word he would have had options.

If Jesus repeated the same Aramaic word in both places, why wouldn’t the inspired Greek text of Matthew translate it the same way both times? To begin with, “You are Petros” is obviously the correct translation of the first clause, not only because of gender, but even more because Petros was Peter’s established name by the time Matthew wrote his Gospel. (Many commentators seem to forget this point, suggesting that Matthew had his choice of rock language, as if Mark’s Gospel and the previous dozen or so chapters of Matthew’s Gospel hadn’t been written; as if Peter hadn’t been Petros for decades.)

Could Matthew have gone on to render “upon this kepha” as “upon this petros,” given the relative interchangeability of petra and petros? Possibly, though the rarity of the common noun petros, which appears in the New Testament only as Peter’s name, and is all but absent in the Septuagint, may be a factor. If not necessarily denotatively different, petra offers resonances missing from petros; for example, echoing the parable of the wise and foolish builders in Matthew 7:24ff, in which the wise man builds upon petra (the natural word there) — a resonance Matthew may have wanted. It is also possible that varying the cognates seemed to the inspired Evangelist better Greek style than merely repeating the same word.

It might even be that for Matthew’s original readers, Petros was so well established as Peter’s name that repeating petros in the second line could have had a somewhat odd or counter-intuitive effect, not necessarily the same as, but not entirely unlike saying in English, “You are Peter, and on this Peter I will build my church.” Everyone knew, of course, that petros was also a word meaning rock or stone, but in everyday usage it would always be petra for rock and Petros for Peter’s name.

As the above consideration suggests, even if Jesus originally used the same Aramaic word twice referring to Peter both times, there is still a subtle conceptual distinction that would be implicit in Jesus’ original words, but highlighted by the inspired Matthean use of Petros and petra. This conceptual distinction would be glossed over in spoken Aramaic, and even in writing it would be invisible in a single-case script like Aramaic or first-century Greek, though in case-differentiated alphabets we may bring it out by capitalizing the first letter of Kepha and not of kepha, or for that matter of Petros and not of petra (the italics tell the same story).

It is the distinction between a proper noun and a common noun, Rock as appellation and rock as image. “You are Kepha” or “You are Petros” invokes Rock as proper noun, as appellation; “upon this kepha” or “upon this petra” invokes rock as common noun, as image. (As an aside, I’m not sure why some commentators seem to feel that the status of Rock as appellation is somehow entangled in questions about whether Kepha/Petros was already established as a given name, or whether Jesus was bestowing Peter’s surname or merely referencing it. As far as I can see, the apparent originality of Kepha as an appellation is no obstacle to Jesus using it as such, nor is it necessary to suppose that Jesus didn’t reinforce the surname on other occasions (cf. John 1:42, Luke 22:34). And, as we saw in Part 6, whether Jesus is bestowing Peter’s surname or merely referencing and explaining it doesn’t much affect the meaning of the passage, which at least has the force of an enactment similar to the renaming of Abraham and Sarah.)

Spoken out loud in Aramaic as Kepha and kepha, there may not have been any audible distinction between Rock as appellation and rock as image (nor would there be any difference in written Aramaic). The single word kepha, like French Pierre (Peter) and pierre (rock), would have been equally serviceable as an appellation and as a common noun. The inspired Greek text of Matthew, by using cognates rather than the same word, would make the conceptual distinction explicit, perhaps because of the familiarity of Petros as an appellation by that point. Petros tells us who the rock is, petra tells us what it means for him to be a rock in relation to Jesus building his church.

If Jesus said “You are Kepha, and on this kepha,” Matthew’s inspired Greek rendering as “You are Petros, and on this petra” slightly bends the original word-play (if indeed word-play is the right word) while maintaining the phonetic echo of the same root between the two lines. On the other hand, if Jesus used two unrelated Aramaic words, Matthew’s use of the cognate terms Petros and petra (rather than two unrelated Greek words) strengthens the connection, making the case for Peter as the rock stronger and more intuitive.

If the former, Jesus’ repetition of the same Aramaic word offers no slightest obstacle to identifying Peter as the rock; if the latter, Matthew’s translation offers inspired interpretive context, indicating that what Jesus said using two unrelated words can be understood in cognate, interchangeable terms.

The second objection, that other passages of scripture (1 Cor 3:11, 1 Cor 10:4, 1 Peter 2:6ff) teach that Jesus is the foundation stone, is even less persuasive.

First, some preliminary notes. It should be recognized that this objection is not merely an argument against Peter as the rock, but an argument for one specific alternative rock, Jesus himself — not Peter’s faith, Peter’s confession, the truth Peter has confessed, etc. Those who advocate for any of those other “rocks” gain no support by appealing to Jesus the foundation stone.

Second, the extra-Matthean texts often cited in this connection actually offer varying images. 1 Corinthians 3:11 calls Jesus the “foundation,” but 1 Peter 2:6ff calls him “a cornerstone chosen and precious” — not a foundation, nor bedrock or solid rock, but a detached stone (lithos) that has been cut and placed. For that matter, 1 Corinthians 3:11 also does not describe bedrock or solid rock, since Paul speaks of laying the foundation, i.e., a foundation of laid stones. Even so, 1 Corinthians 3 makes Jesus the whole foundation, while 1 Peter 2:6 merely makes him the cornerstone, part of a larger foundation. As for 1 Corinthians 10:4 — the only verse that actually uses petra — the “rock” that followed the Hebrews in the wilderness is not a foundational stone of any kind; nothing is built on it.

We have seen that different images can have the same referent. But the reverse is also true: A single image can be used of different referents — and foundational imagery is applied in different ways in the New Testament. Most notably, Ephesians 2:20 repeats the image of Christ as cornerstone, but adds “the foundation of the apostles and prophets.” A variation on this image appears in Revelation 21:14, where John speaks of “twelve foundations” bearing the names of the twelve apostles. Neither of these describes Jesus as the sole foundation, as per 1 Corinthians 3. (For more, see Jimmy’s brief essay “The Church’s Five Foundations.”)

In the case of Matthew 16:18, moreover, Jesus explicitly gives himself a role other than foundation or cornerstone: He is the one building on the rock. While a single referent can have multiple images, the image of building on the rock is essentially one image, not two. To construe Jesus as saying “Upon me I will build” seems odd to say the least — particularly coming from those who claim that a “stone” and a “rock” can never be the same thing, but now have no trouble imagining a builder who is also a foundation building on himself! (Incidentally, note the contrast with 1 Corinthians 3, where Paul speaks of others building on the foundation of Jesus. Sometimes others build on Jesus; sometimes Jesus builds on others.)

It should be noted that Jesus does not actually speak here of a “foundation,” but only of building his church upon “this rock.” The intended image here may be foundational bedrock (as per the parable of the wise and foolish builders), but it could also be that “this rock” is not the entire foundation, but part of a larger foundation — one of a number of foundation-stones, perhaps, as in Ephesians 2:20 and Revelation 21:14. One could argue, then, that just as Jesus here confers on Peter the power of binding and loosing, but later confers the same power on the company of the Twelve (Matt 18:18), so Jesus here speaks of building the church on Peter, but not in a sense that would exclude all of the apostles together forming the church’s foundation. In that case, the images in Matthew 16:18 and Ephesians 2:20 would be convergent, not disparate.

On the other hand, the echo of building upon petra from Matthew 7:24 supports the reading of “upon this rock” as “with this rock as the foundation.” Perhaps this reading is to be preferred.

In Part 6, we saw that the phrase “this rock” implies an antecedent, the closer, the more plausible. “You are Petros,” joined by “and” (copulative kai) to the following clause, is clearly some sort of deliberate antecedent to “upon this rock,” even on the theory that Jesus was only punning on Peter’s name and changing the subject. We are clearly meant to connect Petros and “this rock,” at least on the level of word-play.

Beyond that, the structure of Matthew 16:17-19, with its threefold declarations to and about Peter, followed by explanatory couplets, strongly implies that the entire complex saying is directed to Peter and expounds his role in God’s plan. Peter is directly addressed and spoken about immediately before “upon this rock” (“You are Peter”) and immediately after (“I give you the keys of the kingdom”). Identifying Peter as the rock provides the natural connection between the two adjacent clauses.

Finally, it is not hard to see what it would mean for Jesus to speak of building the church on Peter. All the apostles are foundation-stones, and Peter’s preeminence among the Twelve — a preeminence affirmed by Jesus himself, as seen in Luke 22, John 21 and now our present text — has been sufficiently documented. Few would dispute that Peter played a foundational role in the apostolic church. Whether “this rock” is foundational bedrock or a foundation-stone among others, there is no difficulty understanding that the church that is built on all of the apostles is in a special way built upon Peter.

The only remaining question is whether there is a sufficiently strong reason — it would have to be a slam-dunk reason — to avoid the obvious identification of Petros with “this rock,” and begin casting about for other more remote “rocks.” Neither the differences in the two terms Petros and petra, nor Jesus’ status as rock and foundation in other scriptural texts, offers such a reason. The only plausible conclusion is that Peter is in fact the rock on which Christ builds his church.

This need not be understood to elevate Peter above the Twelve, nor does it imply any unique virtue or merit on Peter’s part. It merely emphasizes Peter’s unique place among the Twelve, partly because of his personality, perhaps, but also partly because of Jesus’ choice. Peter is in a unique and preeminent way what all of the apostles are collectively. They are all foundation stones; Peter is surnamed Petros and declared to be the rock on which the church is built. In the same way, all the apostles are witnesses of the resurrection, but Christ appeared first to Peter; in the same way Christ gave to Peter the solemn threefold commission to tend his sheep, though all the apostles are shepherds.

Still less does Peter’s privilege infringe on Jesus’ divine prerogatives. The church, like the sheep, belong to Jesus, not Peter (“my church”; “my sheep”). Christ is the active agent building the church; Peter, like any of the apostles, is merely his instrument — though an instrument he singles out again and again.

Jesus does not give Peter license to conduct himself however he wills; the shepherd caring for the sheep of another cannot abuse or slaughter the sheep at will, nor can the foundation overturn the structure built upon it. In another moment, Jesus will rebuff Peter in the sternest way imaginable, and even after Pentecost it may be necessary for others to oppose Peter to his face.

None of this alters Jesus’ plain intent for the crucial, singular, foundational role that Peter will play. Whatever Peter’s failings, Jesus makes no provision for any church that is not built upon this rock.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

The Petrine Fact, Part 6: And Upon This Rock

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

“You are Petros, and on this rock I will build my church.” (Matt 16:18)

NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.


Peter’s confession of Christ

We have arrived at ground zero in the Petrine controversy, one of the most bitterly disputed texts in all of sacred scripture. Here the Petrine fact looms most intractably and prominently, resisting all attempts to smooth it over or roll it aside. It is a sad irony that the rock to which Jesus attached such importance has become a stone of stumbling for so many, just as the primacy of Rome, for some an icon, almost a sacrament, of unity, has become a source of division.

At the same time, there have been encouraging developments. There is now near unanimity in Bible scholarship generally, Protestant as well as Catholic, that the rock on which Jesus builds his church is “not [Christ] himself, nor his teaching, nor God the Father, nor Peter’s confession, but Peter himself” (Chamblin 742). That is strongly put, since Peter the rock cannot be separated from the faith of his confession, but the rock has direct reference to Peter himself, not just the faith of his confession, as Evangelical and Protestant scholars now widely and correctly affirm.

Among the chorus of voices in this regard, as I will document eventually, are F. F. Bruce, D. A. Carson, Walter Elwell, R. T. France, Herman Ridderbos and Craig Blomberg. Thus Chrys C. Caragounis writes: “After centuries of disagreement it would appear that Protestant and Catholic are at last united in referring the rock upon which the Church according to Mt 16:18 is to be built, to the Apostle Peter” (Caragounis 1).

Ironically, Caragounis, an Eastern Orthodox scholar, makes a contrarian case for identifying the rock as Peter’s confession. In Orthodox scholarship, too, there has been movement toward recognizing Peter himself as the rock. Orthodox theologian Theodore Stylianopoulos, after surveying recent developments in Orthodox scholarship, writes:

That Orthodox scholars have gradually moved in the direction of affirming the personal application of Matt 16:17-19 to the Apostle Peter must be applauded. From the standpoint of critical scholarship it can no longer be disputed that Jesus’ words to Peter as reported in Matt 16:17-19 confer a special distinction on Peter as “rock” — the foundation on which Christ promised to build his Church. … These points are now conceded by conservative Protestant scholars as well. (Kasper 48-49)

The pericope begins in Matthew 16:13, in which Jesus asks the Twelve what people are saying about him, and receives a number of different answers: John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.

Then comes the crucial question: “But who do you say I am?” As often elsewhere, Peter speaks up for the Twelve: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

The next three verses are a remarkable composition, well capable of bearing all the critical scrutiny they have received. Here is Jesus’ reply in full:

1. Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona!

1a. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you,

1b. but my Father who is in heaven.

2. And I tell you, you are Petros,

2a. and on this rock I will build my church,

2b. and the gates of hades shall not prevail against it.

3. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven,

3a. and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven,

3b. and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

The above blocking highlights a point made by Jimmy Akin (I haven’t seen it developed in this form by anyone else) regarding the three-part structure of each of the three verses. Each verse starts with a major or leading clause, followed by a supporting couplet, the two clauses of which jointly illuminate and expound upon the major clause.

What is more, in each of the three leading clauses, Jesus both addresses Peter and makes a pronouncement regarding Peter: “1. Blessed are you, Simon bar-Jona! … 2. And I tell you, you are Petros … 3. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” As we will see, each of these pronouncements is in some way unparalleled; each is extraordinary in itself, and all three together are an astonishing manifesto on Peter’s behalf.

It is not surprising, then, that each of the three major Petrine pronouncements is followed by a couplet illuminating or commenting upon what Jesus has just said to Peter and about Peter. This is so clear that no one denies this in the first or third verses; everyone recognizes that “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you / but my Father who is in heaven” is a commentary on “Blessed are you, Simon bar-Jona”, and that “whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven / and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” is a commentary on “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven.”

Yet sandwiched between those two verses is a verse that follows precisely the same pattern, yet here the pattern has historically been contested by some. It has been argued that “On this rock I will build my church / and the powers of death shall not prevail against it” is not a commentary on “I tell you, you are Petros”; that after saying “You are Petros,” Jesus in effect changes the subject from the previous thought, merely punning on Petros in order to talk about some quite distinct petra — only to return to Peter in the following verse.

Start at the beginning. Jesus opens with an unparalleled benediction: “Blessed are you, Simon bar-Jona!” Nowhere else in the Gospels does Jesus pronounce such a blessing on any individual; Peter aside, people are pronounced blessed by Jesus only in groups or classes, in the abstract, or both. To find this singular beatitude at the outset of this crucial Petrine text is itself a notable token of the Petrine fact.

Jesus then goes on to expound upon the benediction of this first remarkable clause in a supporting couplet clarifying Peter’s beatitude: “For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you / but my Father who is in heaven.” Peter’s beatitude is not something he achieved himself; it is the gift of the Father.

It must be remembered, too, that the blessing is counter-balanced six verses by the equally singular rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan!” (or “Get behind me, you satan!”). Most of Jesus’ maledictions, like his blessings, are aimed at groups (“Woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites,” Matt 23:13ff), and even Herod was only called a fox (Luke 13:32). Peter alone is called by that harsh word, adversary, that denotes the enemy of mankind.

Once again, then, the point is not that Peter was personally uniquely holy or favored only in positive ways; he wasn’t. Rather, the point is simply Peter’s unique prominence, partly rooted perhaps in his own qualities for good and for ill, but also bound up in Jesus’ own choice, resulting in unique privileges but also unique chastenings. “Every one to whom much is given, of him will much be required” (Luke 12:48): Peter is singularly blessed and singularly chastised; in either case his position is unique.

Then comes the second leading clause: “And I say to you, you are Petros.” The first word, kagõ (a contraction of “And I”), is emphatic (the Greek doesn’t require the explicit first-personal pronoun); Jesus underscores that it is he, the Messiah confessed by Peter, who speaks. Jesus may also be counterpointing his own words to the Father’s gift to Peter; the Father has revealed Jesus’ identity to Peter, and now it is the Son’s turn to reveal something to Peter.

“You are Petros.” Peter has told Jesus who he is (“You are the Messiah”); now Jesus tells Peter who he is. Is this merely declarative, or performative? Is Jesus making an observation, or giving Peter his new name here and now?

John 1:42 relates Jesus telling Peter at their first meeting, “You will be called Kephas,” a saying that could be read as either as an enactment or as a proleptic or prophetic utterance (the future tense could mean either “from this point forward” or “at some point in the future”). In Mark 3 the list of the Twelve begins “Simon whom he surnamed Peter,” but ends with “Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him” (Mark 3:15-19). Obviously Judas has not already betrayed Jesus in chapter 3; by the same token, we cannot conclude that Jesus has already surnamed Simon Peter at that point in the narrative.

The Evangelists all use the name Peter early on. In fact, John 1 refers to “Simon Peter” in verse 40, before Jesus and Peter have even met, and Matthew likewise identifies the apostle as “Simon who is called Peter” (Matt 4:18) the moment Jesus sees him, before they have spoken. It is reasonable to conclude that the Gospels use the name Peter from the start because that is the name readers know him by; it doesn’t tell us when he first began to go by that name.

Other than John 1:42, then, there is no clear evidence of Jesus or anyone else calling Peter Kephas or Petros prior to Matthew 16:18. On the contrary, what evidence we have suggests that Jesus continued to use the name Simon (e.g., Matt 17:25, Mark 14:37, Luke 22:31, John 21:15, the late exception being Luke 22:34). The question, then, is whether Jesus’ words to Peter at their meeting — “You will be called Kephas” — are grounds for concluding that henceforth the apostle began to be known by that surname.

It seems an open question. It’s possible that Jesus and others began to call Simon Kephas right away, or that the surname caught on at some other point prior to Matthew 16. The Gospels offer scant evidence either way.

On the one hand, there is no indication in John 1 that anyone but Andrew heard the saying; if Jesus himself continued to use Simon’s given name, it seems plausible that Peter’s brother (and business partners James and John), who had always called him Simon, would similarly continue to call him the name they had always used. On the other hand, it’s also plausible that Andrew might at least have told James and John about the strange saying, so that eventually all the Twelve would know the story, and Simon might start to be known as Kephas or Petros without another word from Jesus after John 1:42.

What seems certain is that Matthew 16 describes an event that would certainly have caused the surname to stick if it hadn’t already. Not only is it an emphatic, present-tense pronouncement before all the Twelve, the occasion of Peter’s confession is the sort of circumstance that elicits surnames from rabbis and other authorities. (For example, Barnabas, Son of Encouragement, was the surname given to Joseph of Cyprus by the apostles in Acts 4:36, possibly in connection with the act described in the next verse, i.e., laying at the apostles’ feet the money from the sale of his field. Certainly he was not surnamed Barnabas out of the blue.)

It is also worth noting that the structure of verse 18 is notably similar to the texts in Genesis in which Abram, Sarai and Jacob receive their new names, followed by an exposition of the significance of the new name:

No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham;

for I have made you the father of a multitude of nations.

I will make you exceedingly fruitful;

and I will make nations of you,

and kings shall come forth from you.” (Genesis 17:5-6)

As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name.

I will bless her,

and moreover I will give you a son by her;

I will bless her,

and she shall be a mother of nations;

kings of peoples shall come from her. (Gen 17:15-16)

Your name shall no more be called Jacob, but Israel,

for you have striven with God and with men,

and have prevailed. (Gen 32:28)

The parallels are most striking in the case of Abraham and Sarah, where the commentary takes the form of an account of the inaugural role they will have in the new stage of God’s plan of salvation. Jacob’s name change also seems generally indicative of his election for the new stage in God’s plan (though this point isn’t explicitly drawn out in the commentary on the name).

If Jesus is not effectively renaming Peter in Matthew 16, he seems to be doing something remarkably similar. At the very least, even if Peter already went by his surname, the renewed pronouncement of the surname, in the solemn and emphatic context of the passage, seems to invest it with further significance — significance that almost goes beyond a mere surname, that is more like a new identity and a new mission. (It may even be worth noting here that Jacob’s new name Israel is also given twice, in Gen 32:28 and again in Gen 35:10 — and that even after both renamings Israel also continues to be called Jacob both by the sacred writer and even by God, e.g., Gen 46:2-5, etc.)

All of this suggests that the pronouncement of Peter’s new name reflects a new role in Jesus’ messianic plan, one that seems to call for further explication. As previously noted, efforts have been made, especially in the past, to deny that “upon this rock” constitutes such commentary, to argue that it must refer to some distinct petra. Not until verse 19, on this reading, does Jesus say more about Peter’s new role. The effect seems not unlike revising Genesis 17:5-6 to read, “No longer shall your name be Abram [exalted father], but your name shall be Abraham [father of a multitude], and I the Lord shall be exalted among the nations, and a father to my people. And I will make you exceedingly fruitful…”

If “this rock” is not Peter, what is it? There’s the rub. Literarily, the demonstrative pronoun “this” implies an antecedent. Some older Protestant writers tried to float the notion that Jesus might have gestured toward himself as he said “this rock” — an exegetical conceit that would reduce Matthew’s purpose to merely relating dialogue without conveying meaning (not to mention being difficult to reconcile with sola scriptura, for what that’s worth). In the absence of other indication, the Gospel text clearly indicates a continuation of thought, not a change of subject.

The conjunction “and” (kai) links the second clause (“upon this rock”) to the main clause (“I say to you, you are Petros”). Peter is the topic of the preceding and following verses. The connection between Petros and petra is unmistakable; even on the theory that Jesus was merely punning on Petros but talking about something else, the pun itself presupposes that Petros is the first thing we think of when we hear petra.

Petros, then, is the obvious antecedent, petra the obvious continuation of thought between “You are Petros” and “I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” Only if there were some insurmountable obstacle to identifying Petros as petra would it be feasible to set aside that connection and cast about for more remote, less obvious possible referents: Peter’s confession, Peter’s faith, the truth about Christ, Christ himself.

The next post will examine proposed obstacles to identifying Peter as the rock, as well as difficulties with alternate proposals. More to come.

NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Begun, The Clone War Has

Glenn Reynolds links a piece over at WIRED in which Gregg Easterbrook argues that we should embrace human cloning

Um. . . . Not.

But before we get to the "not" part, I want to give Mr. Easterbrook his props, because he makes several good points, including often overlooked ones, and he attempts to respond to those with an opposing view by attempting to address their arguments in a fair and evenhanded manner.

So let's take a look at what he has to say and try to sort the wheat from the chaff . . . 

Human clones, it is widely assumed, would be monstrous perversions of nature. Yet chances are, you already know one. Indeed, you may know several and even have dated a clone. They walk among us in the form of identical twins: people who share exact sets of DNA. 

Yes! This is a point people often overlook. Human clones already exist, and the answer to many of the things people wonder about clones (e.g., would they have souls, can you baptize them, etc.) can be answered just by asking the same question about identical twins. "Clone" just means "genetically identical individual." Clones are not mysterious, alien, science-fictiony creatures. In fact, the thing that makes a clone a clone is its sameness, not its differentness. And for whatever reason (reasons we don't have a good grasp on), human pregnancies sometimes result in two or more genetically identical individuals.

Such twins almost always look alike and often have similar quirks. But their minds, experiences, and personalities are different, and no one supposes they are less than fully human. And if identical twins are fully human, wouldn't cloned people be as well?

Bingo. They would. And therein lies the problem. They are fully human, so you have to treat them with full human dignity.

Suppose scientists could create a clone from an adult human: It would probably be more distinct from its predecessor than most identical twins are from each other. A clone from a grown-up would have the same DNA but would come into the world as a gurgling baby, not an instant adult, as in sci-fi. The clone would go through childhood and adolescence with the same life-shaping unpredictability as any kid.

Yah, though I'm not quite sure what is meant by "more distinct from its predecessor than most identical twins." I suppose what is meant is that a clone would have a life history that is more different from the life history of the original than the life histories of two identical twins. While I agree that that much may be true, I don't see how that results in "more distinct" individuals. Indeed, any time in the near future reproductive cloning will be used by very rich people who want "Mini-Me"s that they can creepily raise to inherit the corporation, and the clones will be steered down paths that nudge them in the direction of being "just like Dad."


Normal people will continue to make babies the old fashioned, two-parent way. Anyone who wants a clone of himself, and is willing to spend large amounts of money to get it . . . there's something wrong there. Something ego-centric–or even ego-maniacal.

The basic dehumanization involved in voluntary, reproductive cloning is the sheer will to power over another person that it represents. It's fully imposing my genetic Me-ness on another individual rather than lovingly combining with a spouse and giving origin to an individual that shares traits of both of us, leaving the mix of those traits up to Providence. It's making a child that says only "Me" rather than "Us."

Anyone who wants to so genetically dominate their offspring suffers from a morbid and inhuman sense of self.

The eminent University of Chicago ethicist Leon Kass has argued that human cloning would be offensive in part because the clone would "not be fully a surprise to the world." True, but what child is? Almost all share physical traits and mannerisms with their parents. By having different experiences than their parents (er, parent) and developing their own personalities, clones would become distinct individuals with the same originality and dignity as identical twins—or anyone else.

I'm not familiar with Leon Kass's work, and despite the conjunction of the words "university" and "ethicist"–which is a high-reliability marker for "rationalizer of dehumanization"–it's heartening to hear of a university ethicist objecting to human cloning.

Nevertheless, I don't find Kass's argument–at least in the micro-form in which Easterbrook presents it–to be persuasive.

On the other hand, while I agree that a normal child is not a total surprise to the world, and that total surprise is not a sine qua non of human reproduction, I don't buy at all the idea that developing one's own personality is needed for one to have human dignity (like "identical twins–or anyone else"). Dignity is something you have by virtue of being human. You don't have to grow or develop to have it. It's one of the standard features we come with from the factory, and mor
al principle requires it to be respected rather than disrespected.

Cloning does the latter by imposing on a child the disordered genetic will to power of a particular individual.

Others argue that cloning is "unnatural." 

It is unnatural, but we have to be careful here what we mean by "nature." We've already seen that nature (meaning, the natural world) produces human clones in the form of twins. That's as may be, but the kind of nature we are concerned about in moral discussions is not the physical or empirical world but the moral principles that can be discerned by reflection on human nature. That's what natural law reasoning is all about (cf. John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor).

Unfortunately, Easterbrook takes a serious misstep here, and his argument thus goes off track due to an inaccurate or inapplicable conception of nature.

But nature wants us to pass on our genes; if cloning assists in that effort, nature would not be offended. 

"Nature" as the physical world doesn't care about anything at all because it's not a person. Easterbrook is certainly aware of this and is presumably speaking of nature "wanting" or being "offended" as a form of literary expression (i.e., personification), but that doesn't mean that the conclusion "nature would not be offended" (translated: "It is not immoral") follows from his premise that "nature wants us to pass on our genes." 

The fact that we have a hereditary impulse to pass on our genes doesn't justify any and all means toward that end.

Take rape as an example. Rape occurs sometimes in the human population and very often in some animal populations. But would we countenance the argument that "nature wants us to pass on our genes; if rape assists in that effort, nature would not be offended"?

Nature as the blind, physical world would indeed not be offended, but that doesn't change the fact that for one human to rape another is hideously immoral–precisely because it is contrary to the moral principles embedded in human nature.

In fact, rape is in some ways a good analog for cloning, because in both situations a single individual fully imposes himself (or herself) on another–in one case sexually, in the other case genetically. They both represent, in different ways, the total imposition of Me.

And just as there is something disordered and sick about raping someone, there is something disordered and sick about wanting to genetically dominate another person and have another genetic you walking around.

Moreover, cloning itself isn't new; there have been many species that reproduced clonally and a few that still do. 

This is quite true! But these species aren't human beings. The fact that ducks rape ducks does not constitute an argument that humans should rape humans. Think in terms of human nature and what is says about a human who would want a genetic copy of himself.

And there's nothing intrinsically unnatural about human inventions that improve reproductive odds—does anyone think nature is offended by hospital delivery made safe by banks of machines?

Inventions–technology–are just physical objects and thus not subject to being natural or unnatural. They just are. What is subject to being moral or immoral, natural or unnatural, is the use to which technologies are put.

If you have human reproduction being done in a natural, moral manner, technology that helps that (incubators, ultrasound monitors, etc.) is wonderful! Technology most certainly can assist reproduction done in accord with human nature.

But it cannot legitimately assist immoral forms of reproductive behavior. A rapist cannot legitimately use victim-immobilizer technology (a gun, a rope, etc.) or some kind of science fictiony nanotech to help get the gametes to meet to "improve reproductive odds."

Thus one can't use medical high-tech to help a megalomaniac fulfill his genetic dominance of his offspring fantasy.

This does not necessarily make human cloning desirable; there are complicated issues to consider. 

Good point! Props to Easterbrook for being willing to explore this aspect of the subject.

Initial mammalian cloning experiments, with sheep and other species, have produced many sickly offspring that die quickly. 

A very important point, though a subsidiary one since it doesn't go to the core reason why human cloning is wrong.

Could it ever be ethical to conduct research that produces sick babies in the hope of figuring out how to make healthy clones?

No! No, it could not! This treats human beings as objects, as medical experiments (cf. Nazis, Jews). The only legitimate reason to produce babies is to have babies. Human beings are ends in themselves. You cannot produce babies in order to "conduct research." That dehumanizes human beings (the babies in question), and it is thus contrary to human nature and thus immoral.

And clones might be treated as inferiors, rendering them unhappy.

I'm not sure if "rendering them unhappy" is meant to be humorous, but there's a lot of issues in this sentence. As to whether clones would be treated as inferiors in their post-birth lives, who can say? That depends on a variety of factors, though it is a possibility. Merely by being created they were mistreated since they had someone else's genetic will to power imposed on them at the moment of conception, and all those sick baby clones who got killed while the process was being perfected–they sure were treated as inferiors.

Still, human cloning should not be out of the question. In vitro fertilization was once seen as depraved God-playing and is now embraced, even by many of the devoutly religious.

There are devoutly religious people who will endorse any horror you want (and devoutly irreligious ones who will do exactly the same thing). 

The fact that in vitro fertilization–which similarly subverts human nature and the reproductive process appropriate to it (and which also results in numerous abortions due to too many kids surviving the implantation process, and millions more kids kept indefinitely "on ice," contrary to their human dignity)–only shows how accustomed we have become to treating human beings like objects.

Cloning could be a blessing for the infertile, who otherwise could not experience biological parenthood. 

As we've seen, this is one of those "ends don't justify the means" things. Experiencing biological parenthood is a good thing, but you can't use any means you want to achieve it, as we saw in our discussion of rape (and, contrary to the claims of some feminists, rape is not simply about power; it is often about pleasure and also about reproduction; this was illustrated by the Bosnian ethnic cleansing rapes of the 1990s in which militants of one ethnic group raped women of another specifically to produce children that would have their own ethnic group's blood),

And . . . anyone having a clone is not really experiencing biological parenthood. Being a biological parent among humans means having your genes intertwined with those of another of the opposite sex. Even identical twins–the human clones that do exist at present–have genes from two biological parents.

And it isn't just biological parenthood that the infertile want. They want the experience of raising a child that is biologically their own–both of theirs.

Cloning doesn't do that, as can be seen if you imagine cloning the context of an infertile couple. If the couple creates a clone of one of them then the other doesn't get the experience of biological parenthood. Instead, they're living in a marriage with a creepy Mini-You running around the house, changing the Mini-You's diapers, making sure that the Mini-You does its homework, etc.

At least IVF, as bad as it is, lets both spouses be biological parents!

So I don't see how cloning is a boon to the infertile–except for creepy infertile millionaires who want identical copies of themselves.

And, of course, it would be a blessing for the clone itself. 

No. Life is a blessing to the clone. Cloning was not. Cloning was the immoral means used to create life. One could not rephrase this and say, "of course, rape would be a blessing for the child of a rape." Children born of rape are blessed by being alive, but that doesn't in any way justify the method by which they were conceived.

Suppose a clone is later asked, "Are you glad you exist even though you are physically quite similar to someone else, or do you wish you had never existed?" We all know what the answer would be.

Yes, we do, because the gift of life is so good. Except for the suicidal, nobody who is alive would rather not have been born. That's the survival drive that is also part of human nature, and just as with the other fundamental human drives–the drive to reproduce, the drive to eat, the drive to socialize with other humans, etc.–it represents a good end that cannot be pursued by evil means.

The children of rape also would rather exist than not exist but that isn't an argument for rape. In fact, though the act of rape gave these children life, it also gave them a broken life situation in which they must either be shielded from knowledge of their true origin or they must live under the shadow of the immoral act that led to their conception and that makes their origin different than everyone else's.

The act of reproductive cloning would put the resulting children in an analogous situation.

Let's not put them there.

Beyond what Mr. Easterbrook covers in his piece,
there are other problems with cloning, such as all of the kids who would be created, experimented upon, and then killed as part of "therapeutic cloning."

The bottom line is that you either have to respect the way human nature is set up or decide that we are just walking bags of chemicals that possess no intrinsic dignity or rights–"ugly bags of mostly water"–and that humans therefore can be subject to any form of technological manipulation imaginable.

I'm not dissing the idea of using technology to assist human reproduction (rather than replacing it with something else) or the idea of using technology to help people genetically (gene therapy! woo-hoo!!) or even the idea of technologically augmenting human nature (super powers! bring 'em on!!!).

I am rejecting the idea of treating people as objects which can be manipulated and exploited with no regard for human nature and human dignity. 

If that's okay then find the right candidate, trick him out with whatever augments you want, program him to love his work and not be able to conceive any other, and then . . . 

The Petrine Fact, Part 5: Peter’s New Name

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8


The Calling of the Apostles Peter and Andrew (Duccio di Buoninsegna, 1308)

NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.

“So you are Simon the son of John? You shall be called Kephas (which means Petros)” (John 1:42).

All four Gospels tell us that Simon bar-Jona was renamed Petros (i.e., Peter) or Kephas by Jesus himself (Matthew 16:18, Mark 3:16, Luke 6:14, John 1:42). As John 1:42 indicates, Petros and Kephas are synonymous; both mean more or less “rock” or “a stone” (questions of nuance will be explored below).

Petros (Πέτρος) is cognate to petra (πέτρα), the usual Greek word for rock. Kephas (Κηφας) is a Grecized transliteration of kepha, an Aramaic word with the same basic meaning. (Kephas is often rendered in English as Cephas, following the Latin transliteration. This spelling works better in Latin than in English, though, since in Latin Cephas is pronounced “Keyfas,” while in English it is usually pronounced “Seefas.” For English speakers, Kephas is a better transliteration.)

Both Kephas and Petros are used by Paul in Galatians, apparently interchangeably (Kephas in Gal 1:18 and 2:9-14, Petros in Gal 2:7-8). Earlier, in 1 Corinthians, Paul uses Kephas consistently (1:12, 3:22, 9:5, 15:5), including the very early credal formula of 15:5.

The indications in Paul suggest that the Grecized form Kephas was used very early among Greek-speaking Christians, possibly before Petros. This reinforces the likelihood that Aramaic Kepha, to which Kephas in John 1:42 points, is the original form of Peter’s new name as given by Jesus, who would most likely have customarily spoken Aramaic among his Galilean disciples.

Thus, Simon Peter was probably first called Kepha (in Aramaic speech), then Kephas (in Greek speech), and finally Petros (again in Greek). Adding the final “s” or sigma for the Grecized form Kephas conforms the word in Greek to masculine nouns of the second declension, making it masculine rather than feminine, as befitting a man’s name. (For Greek speakers, the name Kepha without the final sigma would be taken for a woman’s name.)

In the same way, Greek petra is feminine (first declension), Petros masculine (second declension), so Petros rather than Petra is the natural equivalent of the masculine-form Grecized Kephas, and, again, appropriate for a man’s name.

Even after Peter receives his new name, the old name, Simon, doesn’t entirely disappear. In the Gospels Jesus himself continues to use Simon most of the time (Matt 17:25, Mark 14:37, Luke 22:31, John 21:15), though not always (Luke 22:34), and others use Simon at least occasionally (Luke 24:34). But the Evangelists almost never refer to Peter simply as Simon, except very early on. He is either “Simon called Petros” or “Simon Petros” (particularly in John), or else simply Petros, probably indicating the prevalence of Petros as the familiar version of the name at the time when the Gospels were written.

In Acts, Luke only uses Petros, except when relating how the men from Cornelius, sent by the angel, come seeking “Simon called Petros.” The angel in Peter’s vision addresses him as Petros (Acts 10:1-18). The only other echo of Simon in Acts comes from James, at the Jerusalem Council, who uses the form Simeon, a more Semitic form of the name. This form is also attested in the opening of 2 Peter, where it is conjoined with Peter: “Simeon Petros, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ”; 1 Peter begins simply, “Petros, an apostle of Jesus Christ.”

Paul never uses Simon, only Kephas or Petros. From this, and from the prevalence of Petros in the Gospels and Acts, it seems clear that Peter’s new name was well established and widely used in the first-century church.

The surnaming of Peter by Jesus is unique in a number of respects. Mark’s Gospel mentions that the other two disciples of Jesus’ inner circle, James and John, received the collective nickname Boanerges, “Sons of Thunder.” But that lone mention is the only time this sobriquet is ever heard from; we never read, for example, that “Jesus took with him Peter and the Sons of Thunder” or any such thing. They are sometimes referred to collectively as the sons of Zebedee, but never the Sons of Thunder. Nor is there any mention of “James Son of Thunder” or “John Son of Thunder.” James is never called anything but James, nor John anything but John.

Likewise, the popular notion that Jesus changed Saul’s name to Paul is a misconception. Like many of his peers, Paul, a Jew and a Roman citizen in a Hellenized world, had simply acquired more than one name. The shift in Acts from Saul to Paul is merely the narrator’s way of transitioning literarily from the story of Saul’s Pharisaical Jewish origins to his better-known identity as the great apostle to the Gentiles. Symbolic, certainly, but there is no indication of a name change. The story of Paul’s conversion is related three times in Acts (once by Luke, twice by Paul), with no indication that Jesus ever called Saul anything but “Saul, Saul” (cf. Acts 9, 22 and 26). Then, at a certain point, Luke simply tells us that Saul was “also called Paul” (Acts 13:9), and goes from there. There is no parallel to the significance of Peter’s new name, especially as we find it expounded in Matthew 16, where it is part of a solemn commission speech.

In fact, the closest parallels in scripture to Peter’s new name are found in the Old Testament, particularly in the stories of Abraham, Sarah, and Israel, who all receive new names from God in passages with notable parallels to Matthew 16, as we will see.

Among other things, Jesus’ choice of Peter’s new name is in a way as paradoxical as the choice of Abraham (“father of a multitude”) for a childless old man. This is very different, probably, from the nickname “Sons of Thunder,” which likely reflects an assessment of the personalities or dispositions of the sons of Zebedee (possibly as seen in Luke 9:54). In the same way, the surname Barnabas (Son of Encouragement), given to Joseph of Cyprus by the apostles (Acts 4:36), was probably indicative of his personality. It is easy to feel that Kepha/Kephas/Petros is hardly illustrative of Peter’s personality in the same way.

On the contrary, Peter is well known as a man of shifting extremes — impetuous, unsteady, at turns fervent and foolish, faithful and fearful, promising the greatest fidelity, then failing most spectacularly — anything but rock-like, however nuanced or glossed the notion of rockness might be. This is not to say that Peter’s personality was not a factor at all, only that in itself it does not seem to be a sufficient explanation. As we will see, “Rock” seems to be primarily indicative of Jesus’ intention for the role he would give to Peter, rather than any attributes Peter possessed in himself.

Further heightening the drama of Peter’s name change is the apparent novelty in contemporary usage of Aramaic Kepha and Greek Petros as a given name. In subsequent Christian usage Peter became a popular name thanks to its apostolic namesake, but when Simon bar-Jona was first called that, it was apparently unheard of. (This point isn’t definitive; there is one apparent instance of Aramaic Kepha as a name in a legal document from the 5th century BC, and others might be discovered.)

(This is as good a point as any for a disclaimer to the effect that I am neither a student of language nor learned in ancient texts. In this post I’m reliant on a number of works that need to be sourced. I’ll try to come back in the near future and re-edit to credit sources. In the meantime, comments, queries and corrections are all welcome. As always, when a non-expert is synthesizing technical material, mistakes are possible. Further updates may be forthcoming on the basis of such feedback.)

Aramaic kepha is cognate to Hebrew keph, a rare word found only in Jeremiah 4:29 and Job 30:6, where it has the sense of mountain crags or rocky terrain. In both texts keph is translated petra (cognate to petros) in the Greek Old Testament translation, the Septuagint.

Aramaic kepha is more widely used than its Hebrew cognate. In fact, it can be used to translate any of the common Hebrew words for rock: sela‘ and tsûr (both usually rendered in the Greek Septuagint as petra) as well as ’eben, a stone (usually rendered lithos in Greek).

A word of explanation may be helpful here. As the above suggests, there is a broad distinction in both Hebrew and Greek between words that often mean something like solid rock, bedrock, rocky terrain, cliff wall, etc., and words that usually indicate a stone or detached rock on some movable scale: a boulder, a precious gem, a thrown rock, a shaped stone, etc. Hebrew sela‘ and tsûr (often used in parallel), and Greek petra, are typically “rock solid” language, while Hebrew ’eben and Greek lithos usually indicate rocks of the smaller and more mobile type.

The above I take to be fairly noncontroversial; but two other words, one Greek and one Aramaic, are sometimes controverted particularly in discussions about Peter. Greek petros and Aramaic kepha are asserted, usually by non-Catholics, to mean more or less the same as lithos or ’eben, i.e., a movable stone, in contradistinction to petra or tsûr, solid rock. (One sometimes encounters the claim that Aramaic shua‘, cognate to Hebrew tsûr, is the rock-solid equivalent of petra.)

Kepha first. It is true that kepha can mean a stone, boulder or small rock, and is accordingly used in Aramaic texts to translate Hebrew ’eben in the same passages where the Greek has lithos. Aramaic also has another word, ’evna, cognate to Hebrew ’eben, that may often have a similar meaning. But ’evna is apparently uncommon, leaving kepha, maybe, to pick up some of the slack.

However, kepha is also used in Aramaic texts to translate Hebrew sela‘ and tsûr where the latter indicate solid rock. The usual Greek translation in these cases is petra, indicating that kepha and petra can function more or less synonymously.

For example, the water-giving rock (sela‘) struck by Moses in the wilderness (Num 20:8-11), the rock (sela‘) on which the psalmist stands securely (Psalm 40:2), and the prophet’s “shadow of a great rock (sela‘) in a weary land” (Isaiah 32:2) are all rendered kepha in Aramaic targums (Targum Onkelos, Targum Jerusalem). Other targums attest kepha for tsûr in such texts as Deuteronomy 32:4 and Isaiah 17:10, where rock is used metaphorically for God himself (i.e., solid rock).

Significantly, discoveries in Qumran targums have found pre-Christian evidence for kepha referring to rocky mountain summits or crags (sela‘) in Job 39:1,28 and 1 Enoch 89:29. I am not aware of any corresponding evidence of Aramaic shua‘ (cognate of Hebrew tsûr) attested prior to medieval Aramaic texts; for all I know, that the word may not have been available in Jesus’ day.

For each of the above passages, wherever the Aramaic uses kepha for sela‘ or tsûr, the Greek Septuagint translation is petra (except where rock metaphors are lost in translation, e.g., Isa 32:2). Petra is the usual word for rock in the Septuagint, and also appears a number of times in the New Testament. The masculine form, petros, is virtually unknown in either, except as Peter’s name in the New Testament.

In the Attic Greek of classical poetry, petros is sometimes used in the sense of a stone or movable rock, perhaps more or less synonymously with lithos, in contradistinction to petra. In the common Koine Greek of biblical literature, this distinction is virtually unknown. As a rule, when the Greek biblical texts want to reference a movable stone, they use lithos, not petros. This rule is not, however, quite without exception: A single Greek Old Testament book, 2 Maccabees, offers two instances of petros referring to thrown stones (2 Macc 1:16 and 4:41).

On the other hand, petra need not always mean massive rock over against lithos (or petros) in biblical Greek. In Isaiah 8:14 in the Septuagint, and again in Romans 9:33 and 1 Peter 2:8, both apparently drawing on the Septuagint, we read of “a stone (lithos) that will make men stumble and a rock (petra) that will make them fall.” Lithos and petra are thus used in parallel, not opposition, referring to a stone capable of being tripped over.

Kepha is even more flexible. It can be used equivalently to lithos (a stone) or to petra in the sense of rock mass. Like the English word rock, kepha seems to run the gamut of meaning, and no specific sense can be insisted on in advance.

As with Aramaic kepha and Greek petra/petros, the Hebrew words sela‘ and tsûr are not used in the Old Testament as Hebrew personal names (though there seems to have been a Canaanite or two named Sur; see Num 25:15 and 1 Chron 8:30). Both tsûr and sela‘ are, however, metaphorically applied to God himself so frequently, particularly in Psalms and Isaiah, that “Rock” almost becomes a sort of divine title: “the Rock,” “our Rock,” “my Rock,” “the Rock of Israel,” “the Rock of your refuge,” etc. (e.g., Deut 32:4,15-18,31; 2 Sam 22:2,32,47; Psa 18:2,31,46; Isa 17:10).

Such rock language seems to have been exclusive to God; we never read that David or Moses was a rock, etc. It may be the link between rock language and God was generally considered too close to comfortably apply such language to men, whether as a name or as a metaphor.

But this rule, too, is not without exception. There is a rabbinic tradition that may well have gone back to Jesus’ day, describing one man as a rock: Abraham. Based on Isaiah 51:1-2 (“look to the rock (tsûr) from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were digged; Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you”), a number of Talmudic and midrashic texts, the earliest of which go back to the mid-second century, interpreted Abraham as the “rock” from which God’s people were hewn.

What is the significance of Jesus renaming Simon Kepha or Kephas? In what sense is Peter a rock? It is time at last to turn to Matthew 16.

More to come.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Daring Questions

Recently I wrote about the case of Fatima al-Mutayri, a young Saudi woman who apparently gave her life to Christ and was then martyred by her family.

In her writings (.pdf), she mentions Arabic Christian satellite television as an influence in helping her find her way to Christ.

In particular, she mentions programs airing on the al-Haya (Life) network. One was the popular program of the Coptic priest Fr. Zakaria Botros. Another was the Daring Question show, which is hosted by two former Muslims who are only referred to by first names: Rashid and Ahmed.

I've found some clips of the Daring Question show that have English subtitles, and I thought they would provide a valuable window into the world of evangelization in the Arabic-speaking world and the kinds of heart wrenching situations that those who engage in it have to face.

Please keep these folks and all in like situations in your prayers.

MORE ON THE DARING QUESTION SHOW AND AL-HAYA.

The Petrine Fact, Part 4: Peter, Paul, and James

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.

“Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas, and remained with him fifteen days” (Gal 1:18).

“But when Cephas came to Antioch I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned” (Gal 2:11).


Icon of Saints Peter and Paul (the happy meeting)

The great apostles Peter and Paul stand face to face in these two moments, one congenial, one painful — fixed points in a sea of questions surrounding Paul’s narrative in the first two chapters of Galatians. In between Paul mentions one other meeting at Jerusalem, involving James the brother of Jesus as well as Peter and Paul (Gal 2:1-10), probably overlapping with Luke’s account in Acts 15 of the council at Jerusalem.

Paul’s narrative first. Galatians 1–2 offers a highly polemical account in which Paul sharply defends his apostolic ministry against the allegations of detractors, who are Judaizers or circumcision partisans, insisting on observance of Torah for all Christians, Jew or Gentile.


St. James the Just

Paul’s defense suggests that his full apostleship had been impugned; he was apparently dismissively regarded by some as a sort of junior apostle, a mere disciple of the great apostles of Jerusalem — a claim that for some may have been supported by reports of Paul’s visits to the holy city. Rumors of confrontation like the one Paul describes may have further led to the impression that Paul’s stance on the Law was not the last word on the subject; and Paul’s silence regarding the outcome of his public denunciation of Peter leaves us wondering just how things panned out, and how quickly the rift was healed.

The matter is further complicated by evidence from the Acts of the Apostles, which, as we have previously seen, credits Peter himself with opening the door to acceptance of Gentile believers, without requiring circumcision or observance of Torah. Peter defends this teaching against Judaizing tendencies, not only in Acts 11, but in Acts 15, in the Jerusalem council, where he and Paul are of one mind on the subject. Peter’s searing rhetorical question about “mak[ing] trial of God by putting a yoke upon the neck of the disciples which neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear” (Acts 15:10) is as eloquent a statement of Paul’s thesis as anything Paul writes in Galatians.

In fact, based on the witness of Acts, we may say that in Galatians 2:11ff Paul confronts Peter with Peter’s own gospel message, the message that Peter himself received by revelation and first taught in the church. This, of course, only intensifies the sting of Paul’s charge of “hypocrisy” or “insincerity” — a charge that Paul gives full weight in that damning phrase “stood condemned.”

Yet how are we to account for the contrast between Paul’s lacerating invective in Galatians against the circumcision party — “I wish they would go the whole way and emasculate themselves!” (Gal 5:12) — and the report in Acts 16:3 that Paul himself, shortly after the Jerusalem council in the previous chapter, had Timothy circumcised for the sake of Jewish observers? Is this the same Paul who uncompromisingly declared “if you receive circumcision, Christ will be of no advantage to you” (Gal 5:2), and made much of Titus’s non-circumcision (Gal 2:3)?

Or what are we to make of Paul’s genuflection to Jewish Torah sensibilities at the behest of presbyters in Jerusalem, where he offers sacrifices to purify Jewish Christians according to the Law (Acts 21:17ff)? (Luke tells us that these presbyters are in the company of James the brother of Jesus, just as in Galatians 2 it is “men from James” who occasioned Peter’s scandalous and divisive behavior in Antioch. Yet in Acts 15 James concurs with Peter and Paul.)

Are we to infer that Paul himself “stood condemned” on the same charges he leveled at Peter in Galatians 2? Whatever answer we make, in asking the question we do not, of course, question the fundamental truth that Paul proclaims. The Gospel does not stand or fall with the behavior of those who proclaim it, and no one is beyond reproach, not even Paul, not even Peter. If, as we have seen, Jesus’ prayer in Luke 22 for Peter to strengthen his brethren proved efficacious, Galatians 2 is a sobering indication that even after Pentecost Peter could still stumble.

There is much we could wish to know about the events Paul narrates in Galatians 1–2. What was Peter’s response to Paul’s challenge? What transpired between them after this? What would an account of the events from Peter’s or Barnabas’s perspective look like? Why was Peter in Antioch in the first place? Where did he go next? Where does the second visit to Jerusalem in Paul’s account (Gal 2:1-10) fit into Luke’s chronology in Acts? Does this visit coincide with the Jerusalem council of Acts 15? Or is it an earlier visit, or a later one?

Whatever we may say about any of these questions, one thing is clear: In Galatians 2:11ff Paul indicts Peter with respect to his behavior, not his teaching or belief.

Paul himself leaves no doubt that Peter was personally quite willing to extend table-fellowship to non-Judaized Gentile believers. In fact, that was Peter’s modus operandi when he first arrived in Antioch (2:12). Paul even goes so far as to say that Peter lived “like a Gentile, not like a Jew” (2:14). It was not until the “men from James” arrived that Peter “drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party” (Gal 2:12). The charge is not false teaching, but “hypocrisy” or “insincerity,” indicating a discrepancy between belief and action.

The very fact that Paul singles out Peter, both verbally in Antioch and literarily in Galatians 2, is revealing. Peter wasn’t the only one acting “insincerely”; “the rest of the Jews” (i.e., Jewish Christians) did the same. Nor does Paul say that Peter was the first to do so, or that the others were only following his lead. He does blame the others collectively for Barnabas’ defection, but beyond that only says “with him [Peter] the rest of the Jews acted insincerely” (not that they acted insincerely because of Peter).

Nevertheless, Paul directs his attack solely at Peter, not at the rest. All were “insincere,” but it is only Peter that Paul says “stood condemned.” More than that, Paul makes much — it wouldn’t be too strong to say he boasts — to the Galatians of his confrontation with Peter. This cannot be solely because of the importance the Galatians attach to Peter; Paul himself recognizes Peter’s preeminence, in the very fact that he holds Peter personally responsible for the shameful behavior of the rest.

That’s a rather backhanded compliment; but there is also the more straightforward acknowledgment of Peter’s preeminence in the previous chapter: one that is all the more significant in view of Paul’s polemical purpose, and his specific grievance against Peter in chapter 2. Three years after his conversion, Paul says, he “went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas.” He even notes that he saw “none of the other apostles” — except, he adds, James the Lord’s brother, but to see Peter (not James) was the specific purpose of the visit.

This is a notable acknowledgment. Paul didn’t have to say that it was to visit Peter that he went to Jerusalem; he didn’t have to mention a purpose at all. He could have simply said that he went to Jerusalem and spent fifteen days with Peter (and James), or that he went to Jerusalem to visit with any of the apostles that happened to be there. But no: When he went to Jerusalem, it was not merely to visit with some of those who knew Jesus in his earthly ministry, but to meet with Peter specifically. Why he went to see Peter specifically, Paul doesn’t say. Apparently there was no need. Peter was the obvious person Paul would have wanted to see.

Then comes the Jerusalem visit of Galatians 2:1-10. For what it’s worth, I agree with the majority of commentators in viewing this passage as parallel with Luke’s account of the Jerusalem council in Acts 15. In both passages, Paul, Barnabas, and one or more others travel from Syria to Jerusalem in response to a challenge from Judaizers over circumcision. The apostles (Peter and James are mentioned in both passages) welcome them, hear what they have to say, and affirm that Gentiles are to be received without circumcision or the yoke of Torah. Afterward, Paul and Barnabas proceed to Antioch, where a rift occurs between them. Whatever difficulties arise in reading the two accounts in parallel are less problematic than supposing that all these things happened twice, so that, e.g., Paul, having already traveled from Syria to Jerusalem in response to a challenge about circumcision to consult with Peter and James, then did so again in response to a second challenge. (Additional difficulties arise from efforts to fit Galatians 2:1-10 anywhere else in Luke’s chronology.)

In any case, on the visit Paul describes, he acknowledges laying his message before the apostles — i.e., “James, Cephas and John, who were reputed to be pillars” — “lest somehow,” he says, “I should be running or had run in vain.”

He is quick to add that “those who were of repute added nothing to me” and “gave me and Barnabas their right hands in partnership, that we should go to the Gentiles.” Nevertheless, Paul considers that “partnership” to be an important mark of his not “running in vain.” Given how sharply Paul has defended his full equality to the other apostles, this is a notable acknowledgement that Paul’s ministry, while not subordinate to the Twelve, must be in solidarity with the Twelve, here represented by Peter, John and James.

Peter, Peter, Peter. Peter figures prominently in all three episodes Paul relates to the Galatians; he is not always alone, but he is always there. Paul’s case depends on Peter; depends on Peter being the leader that he is. The whole force of the third episode is that it is Peter that Paul opposes to his face. No one is beyond reproach; no one is above the gospel.

In the middle episode, we find Peter among a triumvirate of apostles, similar to Jesus’ inner circle, but with a different James: The brother of John has been slain, and the brother of Jesus (the same James from whom the Judaizers came in 2:12) is now a prominent leader among the Jewish Christians in Jerusalem (cf. Acts 12:17, 21:17-24). How prominent is he? And what is Peter’s place in this triumvirate?

The early Fathers regarded James as the first bishop of Jerusalem. Less traditionally, some modern commentators have seen the sequence of Paul’s mention of “James, Cephas and John” a subtle indication that Peter has been supplanted as the Jerusalem church’s most prominent leader. There is, though, another reason for Paul to mention James first: James’ apparent connection to the Judaizing controversy that is Paul’s primary concern. If Judaizers in Galatia have pitted anyone against Paul, James is the most likely candidate. Therefore, Paul’s acceptance by James, and James’ agreement with the non-circumcision of Gentiles (e.g., Titus), is crucial to Paul’s point.

Likewise, in Luke’s account of the Jerusalem council, James has been seen by some as having the decisive voice, since he is the last to speak, and his “judgment” provides the final shape of the council’s decision. Yet once again James’ association with the Judaizing controversy makes it natural that his agreement would mark the denouement of the discussion. James has the last word, not because he has the ultimate say, but because he represents the party that needs to be convinced.

Regardless of James’ role, Peter clearly plays a decisive part in the proceedings — and he does so by appealing in strikingly strong terms to his own God-given role in opening the door to receiving the Gentiles:

And after there had been much debate, Peter rose and said to them, “Brethren, you know that in the early days God made choice among you, that by my mouth the Gentiles should hear the word of the gospel and believe.” (Acts 15:7)

This is almost astonishingly frank. Not only does Peter say that it was God’s will that the Gentiles should be received — not only does he say that he himself was God’s instrument — he states emphatically that God chose him from among all the apostles and elders to make his will known on this point. Out of all of you, Peter says, God chose me to bring the gospel to the Gentiles. A stronger affirmation of Peter’s right to speak with greater authority than anyone else can scarcely be imagined.

Note, incidentally, that the word “gospel,” used only twice in Acts, appears here for the first time (the other instance is 20:24). Note, too, Peter’s reference to God speaking “by my mouth,” language that Peter elsewhere applies in Acts to David and the prophets (Acts 1:16, 3:18-21, 4:25), but here applies to himself — the only New Testament figure in Acts so described.

Before Peter’s speech, Luke states there was “much debate,” but Peter’s speech silences the assembly, allowing Paul and Barnabas give supporting testimony (15:7,12). Finally, when James offers his “judgment” (the Greek word apparently has the sense of “opinion” rather than “verdict”), he expressly recalls Simon’s words, adding that the prophets agree, and appending some pastoral concerns for the sensibilities of his Jewish constituency.

It is thus explicitly Peter’s teaching — the teaching for which Peter insists he himself was divinely chosen out of all the apostles and elders — that the Jerusalem council maintains.

In spite of his forceful language, Peter takes the lead, as he usually does, in a simple, direct, natural manner. He has, presumably, well internalized Jesus’ teaching about leadership and servanthood. The council comes to its inevitable conclusion in a consultative fashion; there is no one leader imposing anything on anyone, or any need for such imposition. In fact, Luke goes on to say, “Then it seemed good to the apostles and the elders, with the whole church, to choose men from among them and send them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas.” The decision to send men to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas was not handed down by James, Peter, John or all three; the elders and the whole church all had a voice. On the central issue, though, Peter’s voice, Peter’s teaching, Peter’s authority is decisive.

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The Petrine Fact, Part 3: Peter and the Twelve

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NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.

“First Simon, who is called Peter” (Matt 10:2).


Teaching of the Twelve icon

With these words St. Matthew begins his enumeration of the Twelve, emphasizing the primacy of Simon Peter among the Twelve. A similar prominence is given to Peter in every enumeration of the Twelve, where Peter is always listed first, followed closely by the next most prominent disciples, John and James (along with Peter’s brother Andrew), with Judas Iscariot always in the last position (cf. Mark 3:16ff, Luke 6:14ff, Acts 1:13ff).

The word “first,” protos, is the same word that Jesus later uses when he says, “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first (or “chief”) among you must be your slave; even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matt 20:26-28). (It’s also the same word Paul uses in the passage from 1 Corinthians 15 previously discussed, in which he called himself the “chief” [protos] of sinners.)

This saying, in response to the petition of the sons of Zebedee to sit as Jesus’ right and left in positions of honor, establishes that primacy in the new order that Jesus brings is a very different thing from primacy in the world. For now, though, I am concerned with the mere fact of Peter’s primacy, without losing sight of the reversal of worldly standards that Jesus brings.

A casual perusal of the Gospels and Acts is sufficient to establish Peter’s prominence among the Twelve in early Christian memory. Peter is named far more often than all the rest of the Twelve combined (nearly 200 times). After Peter, the most prominent disciples are John and James, the sons of Zebedee, who with Peter formed an inner circle of Jesus’ closest disciples. John, the most frequently mentioned disciple after Peter, is mentioned fewer than 40 times, not even 1/7th as often as Peter.

We even encounter phrases like “Peter/Simon and those who were with him” (Mark 1:36, Luke 9:32, 8:45) and “Peter and the apostles” (Acts 5:29), subsuming other apostles under Peter, as well as “his disciples and Peter” (Mark 16:7), emphasizing Peter in particular. (St. Paul similarly makes special note of Peter in 1 Corinthians 9:5, referring to “the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas”).

Peter’s prominence is not simply a matter of literary shorthand. Both in the Gospels and in Acts Peter is often seen speaking for and taking the initiative among the Twelve, for good and for ill (e.g., Matt. 18:21, Mark 8:29, Luke 12:41, John 6:68-69). Peter expresses the faith of the Twelve when he confesses Jesus as the Christ; he also expresses their ill-fated claim to be ready to die rather than fall away (e.g., “And they all said the same,” Mark 14:31). Peter’s denials, reported in all four Gospels, represent a low point of Peter’s prominence, followed by his prominence in the resurrection accounts previously discussed.

Matthew’s Gospel depicts Jewish interlocutors approaching Peter to question him about Jesus (Matt 17:24); in the same episode, Jesus associates Peter with himself by making provision for their payment of the Temple tax, without involving the rest of the Twelve. It is also in Matthew that Peter shares with Jesus the extraordinary miracle, reported in Matthew, Mark and John, of walking on water (Matt 14:22-23).

Jesus treats Peter as representative of the others. In Gethsemane, though James and John also were asleep, it is Peter that Jesus rebukes (“he came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, ‘Simon, are you asleep? Could you not watch one hour?'” Mark 14:37).

There is a hint of something similar in Jesus’ rebuke to Peter following Peter’s confession: “But turning and seeing his disciples, he rebuked Peter, and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are not on the side of God, but of men” (Mark 8:33). Just as Peter’s confession articulated the faith of all, so perhaps Peter’s opposition to the foretelling of Jesus’ passion articulated the resistance of all; but it is Peter that Jesus addresses in both cases.

Much of this prominence, even in Jesus’ own interaction with Peter that the Twelve, can be ascribed at least in part to by Peter’s impulsive, headstrong personality, which makes him a natural spokesman, if an uneven one. At the same time, Jesus repeatedly offers clear indications of a unique purpose for Peter — a purpose not defined or limited by Peter’s personal strengths and weaknesses.

We have already seen in Part 2 how the resurrected Christ in John 21 solemnly instated Peter by triple commission as vice shepherd; and we have not yet come to the Petrine locus classicus, Matthew 16. But there is also the pivotal role that Jesus intends for Peter in relation to the Twelve and the apostolic ministry, most clearly attested in a saying in Luke’s Last Supper account.

Significantly, this saying takes place in the context of a familiar motif, a dispute among the disciples about “which of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:24ff). In this passage, the disciples’ quarrel about greatness is connected to the puzzle of which disciple would betray Jesus, and leads directly to Simon Peter’s claim to be ready to go to prison and death.

Jesus’ response here to this issue comes in three parts. First, as he did in response to the request of the sons of Zebedee mentioned above to sit at his right and his left, Jesus is careful to emphasize the reversal of worldly ideas of greatness implied by his own example: “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For which is the greater, one who sits at table, or one who serves? Is it not the one who sits at table? But I am among you as one who serves.”

Then, very nearly reversing his reversal, Jesus affirms the greatness that indeed awaits the Twelve in the kingdom: “You are those who have continued with me in my trials; and I assign to you, as my Father assigned to me, a kingdom, that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.” (This is rather more encouraging than what he told the sons of Zebedee about sharing in the cup and the baptism of his sufferings.)

Finally, he concludes with a warning and a promise: a warning and a promise simultaneously directed at all the Twelve and one in particular: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have ye (second person plural, i.e., “all of you”), that he might sift [ye] like wheat, but I have prayed for thee (second person singular, i.e., “you, Simon”), that thy faith may not fail; and when thou hast turned again, strengthen your brethren” (Luke 22:31-32). (This direct affirmation of the role that Peter will play makes an intriguing contrast with Jesus’ demurral to the sons of Zebedee that to sit at his right and his left belongs to those for whom it has been prepared.)

In the context of the dispute as to which was the greatest, this saying to Peter offers three different layers of meaning. First, Jesus stresses that temptation stands at the gate. The disciples are unprepared for what is coming; while they quarrel over who is the greatest, they are easy pickings for the enemy; their minds are dominated by earthly notions of greatness.

Second, in singling out Peter, Jesus may well implicate Peter in particular in the sorry dispute — in part, perhaps, because of Peter’s own awareness, and possibly to some extent his misapprehension, of his own primacy among the Twelve. (There is a note of remonstration in Jesus’ “Simon, Simon,” though it is not impossible that this alludes to Peter’s promises of faithfulness rather than the dispute about which of them was the greatest. Nevertheless, the two issues seem linked here, the bridge being who would betray Jesus.)

But thirdly, Jesus implicitly affirms a particular sort of primacy to Peter: All the Twelve are in line to be sifted, but Jesus’ prayer is for Peter in particular — not just because of what may be his special danger, but also because of the special role Jesus intends for him to play in strengthening his brethren.

This saying does not mean, of course, that Jesus does not pray also for the other apostles (cf. John 17:6-19). Nevertheless, Jesus’ prayer for the Twelve, whom he says are all in line to be sifted, comes to a head or finds a focal point in Peter. It is Peter’s faith that Jesus has prayed will not fail; it is Peter who, when all have fallen away, will turn again and strengthen his brethren.

Had Jesus wanted to affirm a completely egalitarian ideal among the Twelve, with no sort of priority or prominence of any kind, it is difficult to see why he would have expressed himself in this way. Indeed, on an egalitarian theory of apostlehood, Jesus’ words seem almost perversely bound to lead to misunderstanding. It seems, that, rather than denying any sort of primacy among the apostles, he seeks to redefine how primacy will be understood among his followers, while nevertheless definitely attaching a sort of primacy — however unlike the sort of primacy the disciples, not excluding Peter, might have been grasping at — to one apostle in particular: one who, precisely because of his preeminent position among the Twelve, requires Jesus’ individual attention in prayer on behalf of all.

Having reported Jesus’ prayer in Luke 22, Luke goes on in Acts to demonstrate its fulfillment as Peter, following Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, comes into his own in an extraordinary way. Peter’s role in Acts is so prominent that the first half of the book could almost be dubbed “Peter & Friends.” (The second half, of course, would be “The Paul Show,” a point I’ll return to later.)

In Acts 1, Peter initiates the action to select Judas’s replacement and articulates the criteria for apostleship. In Acts 2, on Pentecost, Peter speaks on behalf of the Twelve to the Jewish onlookers, proclaiming the Gospel of the church for the first time and bringing thousands to baptism on the birthday of the church.

When Peter and John are arrested in Acts 4, Peter, “filled with the Holy Spirit,” leads their defense (after which Luke tells us that “Peter and John” both spoke; Acts 4:8-19); when the apostles are arrested again a chapter later, we read, “Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than men'” (Acts 5:29). When members of the company are laying the proceeds of sold property at the apostles’ feet, it is Peter who speaks for the apostles to Ananias and Sapphira, prophetically exposing the lie they tell him (“You have not lied to men, but to God”), for which their lives are forfeit (Acts 4:33-5:11).

In Acts 5 the apostles are miraculously liberated from prison by an angel; then, in Acts 12, James bar-Zebedee (another apostle of Jesus’ inner circle) is seized and put to death by the sword — but Peter, arrested immediately afterward, is again liberated by an angel. (Paul and Silas are also delivered from imprisonment, though technically there is no mention of an angel, “only” an earthquake that opens the doors and unfastens everyone’s fetters.)

Finally and most crucially — along with Peter’s role at Pentecost — it is Peter who receives the vision that opens the door for table-fellowship between Christian Jews and Gentiles; Peter who authorizes the first administrations of baptism to Gentiles (Acts 10), and who defends the acceptance of Gentiles to the “circumcision party” (Acts 11).

On Pentecost, Peter first preached the Gospel to Jews; in Acts 10-11 Peter brings to light the fullness of the Gospel message that in Christ the barrier between Jew and Gentile has been demolished, and that circumcision is no longer a prerequisite to salvation. (These are themes we will revisit in a very different light in Galatians 1-2 and also Acts 15.)

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The Petrine Fact, Part 2: Peter and the Resurrection

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Christ with St. Peter and the Disciples on the Sea of Galilee (Flemish – Lucas Gassel, ca. 1500-1570)

NOTE: This series is a work in progress. See Part 1 updates including bibliography in progress. As I add sources and update past posts I will continue to expand the bibliography.

“He appeared to Kephas, then to the Twelve” (1 Cor 15:5).

Special note is taken of Peter in the first known Christian credal formula, the probably pre-Pauline resurrection tradition of 1 Corinthians 15, which singles him out as the first among the Twelve to witness the resurrected Christ. (On the name Kephas or Cephas, see Part 5.)

Paul emphasizes both the importance and the antiquity of this tradition, which Paul professes to have passed on from those who taught it to him, using the technical terms “received” and “delivered”:

For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received:

that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures,

that he was buried,

that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures,

and that he appeared to Kephas, then to the Twelve” (1 Cor 15:3ff).

Note the parallelism of the lines, with the formulaic double use of “in accordance with the scriptures.” This is confessional language, shaped for rote memorization and exact transmission. The terms “receive” (parelabon) and “deliver” (paredoka) are borrowed from rabbinic usage, describing the faithful transmission of oral tradition (cf. 1 Cor 11:2). The only other time Paul uses these two terms together is in recounting the Eucharistic institution narrative in 1 Corinthians 11:23ff, language that is clearly liturgical and which almost no one would argue originated with Paul himself (see the close parallels to Gospel accounts in Matt 26:26-29, Mark 14:22-25, and Luke 22:13-20).

The special resurrection appearance first to Peter is also attested in Luke, in which we find the eleven bearing witness, “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” (Luke 24:34). An echo of this special attention to Peter can be heard in Mark’s resurrection material, where the angels tell the women to “go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you” (Mark 16:7). John’s resurrection material gives Peter a prominence in other ways, as we will see in Part 3.

As Ratzinger points out, Peter’s privilege as first apostolic witness to the resurrection, attested by Paul in the pre-Pauline confession of faith recorded in 1 Corinthians 15, is particularly striking in light of Paul’s emphasis on “the essence of apostleship as witness to the Resurrection of Christ” (Called to Communion, p. 49). Paul’s claim to be an apostle is directly tied to his claim to have seen the risen Christ (“Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Christ?” 1 Cor 9:1).

See also Acts 1, where Peter himself sets the criteria for Judas’ replacement in the apostolic ministry: “So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us — one of these men must become with us a witness to his resurrection.” Witnessing and bearing witness to the resurrected Christ was the essence of apostleship.

Interestingly, while in some places Paul emphatically denies any inferiority to other apostles, in 1 Corinthians 15, in the very passage where he attests the credal tradition that the Lord appeared first to Peter, Paul humbly declares that, after all his other appearances, “Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Cor 15:8-9).

If Paul’s late resurrection appearance makes him “untimely born,” “last of all” and “the least of the apostles,” by implication the Lord’s appearance first to Peter makes him in effect the first-born among the apostles — a role given credal or confessional significance in the very early pre-Pauline tradition that Paul preserves. (I am not arguing that it makes him superior to the other apostles, any more than Paul’s “untimely” status correlates with inferiority.)

As mentioned above, John’s resurrection narrative also attests Peter’s unique role in regard to the risen Christ, in two ways.

First, when Peter and the beloved disciple run to the sepulchre, the beloved disciple outruns Peter, arriving at the sepulchre first. Then, however, he waits outside until Peter has arrived and entered, and only then enters himself, at which point he sees and believes (John 20:3-8). John’s Gospel gives the “beloved disciple” a primacy of one sort, seen here in the fact that he outruns Peter, but then Peter’s primacy is also given its place as he waits outside for Peter, and only enters and “believes” following Peter.

Second, when Jesus appears to the Twelve at the Sea of Tiberias, he makes a charcoal fire (the same term used for the fire at which Peter warmed himself on the eve of the crucifixion, when he denied Jesus) and questions Peter thrice about his love, responding each time with the commission to tend/feed Jesus’ sheep/lambs. Peter’s triple declaration of love, and Jesus’ triple commission of Peter as shepherd of his sheep, parallels and cancels Peter’s well-known (attested in all four Gospels) triple denials, solemnly restoring Peter by triple commission to his place of honor.

In this connection it may be significant that Jesus’ first two queries about Peter’s love use the term agape and that he first asks if Peter loves him “more than these”; but Peter determinedly replies with the word phileo, prompting Jesus to ask the third time using phileo (and receiving the same word in Peter’s third reply). (There is room for question here because the elevated Christian meaning of agape was a development in early Christian vocabulary, reflecting the need for a word corresponding to a new conceptual world, and like other words which acquire new meanings it is not always clear in early usage whether the new meaning is fully in place yet.)

If it is significant, then it seems likely that the humiliating experience of the triple denials, of fleeing while the beloved disciple followed, has cured Peter of making grandiose claims about his devotion to Jesus. As seen in the race to the sepulchre, Peter is not necessarily the disciple most driven by love for Jesus; that would be the beloved disciple. Nevertheless, just as it is Peter who first enters the sepulchre, it is to Peter that Jesus gives the solemn threefold commission as vice shepherd under the Good Shepherd.

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