The Woman Caught in Adultery

The two longest passages in the New Testament that have questionable origins are the longer ending of Mark (16:9-20) and the section on the adulteress in John’s Gospel (7:53-8:11). Interestingly, both passages are twelve verses long.

We’ve already discussed the longer ending of Mark, and here we take up the story of the adulteress.

In scholarly circles, it is known as the Pericope Adulterae (from Greek and Latin roots, meaning “the section on the adulteress”; note that pericope is pronounced per-IH-kuh-PEE).

In the story, a woman caught in the act of adultery is brought before Jesus, and his opponents test him by asking what should be done with her. The Mosaic Law prescribed death for such offenses (Lev. 20:10, Deut. 22:22), but Jesus says, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” The opponents then disperse, and afterward Jesus tells the woman to go and sin no more.

It’s a vivid, memorable story, and many people know it today.

So why would anyone question it? The first reason is that it is not in many of the early manuscripts. The New Testament was written in Greek, but the pericope is not found in any surviving manuscripts before Codex Bezae, which dates to the A.D. 400s. This is significant, because John was one of the most popular Gospels in the early centuries—as evidenced by the surviving number of copies of it—and we would expect the pericope to be in other early copies if it was part of the original. The pericope also is missing from some early Latin, Syriac, and Coptic manuscripts.

The second reason the pericope is questioned is that it floats. That is, when it does appear, it’s found in different places. Sometimes it follows John 7:52, sometimes 7:36, sometimes  7:44, sometimes it’s tacked on at the end of John’s Gospel (after 21:25), and sometimes it’s at the end of Luke 21 (following 21:38). This reflects the behavior of scribes trying to fit it into the Gospels and being unsure where to place it.

The third reason is that none of the Greek commentators mention the passage before Euthymius Zigabenus, around A.D. 1118. Although this is an argument from silence, a silence of more than 1,000 years is striking and could suggest that most of these commentators were unfamiliar with the passage.

The fourth reason is that the style of the pericope differs from John’s Greek style. Experts indicate that it doesn’t sound like him. Instead, it sounds more like Luke’s Greek style. However, arguments from style are not particularly strong, and it’s always possible that an author is closely following an earlier source that had a different style.

For the above reasons, most contemporary scholars hold that the pericope was not originally part of John’s Gospel but was added to it at a later date. Consequently, many contemporary Bible translations put the pericope in brackets and have a footnote discussing the issue of its origin.

However, scholars also acknowledge that there is evidence that the story is ancient. The fact that the style is said to sound like Luke and that it is sometimes placed in Luke’s Gospel has led some to suggest that it may have actually been penned by Luke rather than John.

Further, the early second century writer Papias of Hierapolis—who was gathering his data at the end of the first century—may have mentioned the story. In the 300s, the historian Eusebius stated that Papias “has set forth another story about a woman who was accused before the Lord of many sins, which is contained in the Gospel according to the Hebrews” (Church History 3:39).

Some have thought that this may be a reference to the Pericope Adulterae, but this is not certain. While it could have appeared both in John (or Luke) and the Gospel of the Hebrews, if it was the same story, we’d expect Eusebius to refer to it as being found in one of the canonical Gospels. Further, the pericope involves a woman accused of one sin—an act of adultery that she was caught during—not a multitude of sins.

Still, it is possible that this is early evidence for the existence of the story, if not its placement in a canonical Gospel.

Of the arguments against the pericope’s originality to one of the canonical Gospels, the strongest is its absence in early Greek manuscripts. What could explain this?

One possibility is that—after John (or Luke) wrote the passage—an early, influential scribe left it out of his copy, and this affected the copies that followed. That would explain why later scribes weren’t sure where to reinsert it, and it would explain why Greek commentators didn’t mention the passage for so long. The only remaining argument is stylistic in nature, and we’ve mentioned that stylistic arguments tend to be inconclusive.

The major question would be why an early, influential scribe would omit the passage. While scribes do occasionally omit part of a sentence or a verse by accident, the omission of 12 full verses looks deliberate. So what would the reason be?

A key proposal is that it has to do with the subject that the pericope involves: the forgiveness of adultery.

Adultery was regarded as a particularly heinous sin, and some early Christians believed that a person could be sacramentally forgiven of it only once after baptism. Others believed that it required a very lengthy period of penance before reconciliation. And some thought that it could not be forgiven at all.

Around A.D. 220, Tertullian of Carthage was of this view. “Such [sins] are incapable of pardon—murder, idolatry, fraud, apostasy, blasphemy; of course, too, adultery and fornication” (On Modesty 19).

Around 251, St. Cyprian of Carthage wrote that “among our predecessors, some of the bishops here in our province thought that peace was not to be granted to adulterers, and wholly closed the gate of repentance against adultery” (Letter 51:21).

Given the early stage of doctrinal development, the Pericope Adulterae—in which Jesus simply says to the adulteress, “Has no one condemned you? . . . Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again”—could seem shocking and in conflict with what they otherwise believed about forgiving adultery.

Consequently, there could be a motive for early, influential scribes to remove the passage—presumably thinking it had been added by an earlier scribe who was lax on the issue of adultery.

The nature of the passage may also have made some commentators reluctant to discuss it for the same reason.

If the Pericope Adulterae was not originally in one of the Gospels, what is its status as part of the Bible?

A footnote in the New American Bible: Revised Edition states, “The Catholic Church accepts this passage as canonical scripture.”

The basis for this statement is that the Council of Trent infallibly defined that the books of the Catholic canon are “sacred and canonical, these same books entire with all their parts” (Decree Concerning the Canonical Scriptures).

This affirmation is most clearly directed against the views of Protestants who wanted to consider the deuterocanonical portions of Daniel and Esther to be non-inspired.

There was some discussion at the council of the Pericope Adulterae, but the fact that the final decree does not make it clear which “parts” of biblical books it has in mind—beyond those of Daniel and Esther—could be seen as leaving the matter not fully settled.

However, even if the passage was not original to the Gospels, it still may have been written in the apostolic age and could count as inspired scripture.

And even if this were not the case, the passage teaches nothing contrary to the Christian faith. Early authors who were skeptical of forgiveness for adultery were mistaken, and this passage provides a dramatic, memorable illustration of a truth of the faith:

There is no offense, however serious, that the Church cannot forgive. There is no one, however wicked and guilty, who may not confidently hope for forgiveness, provided his repentance is honest. Christ who died for all men desires that in his Church the gates of forgiveness should always be open to anyone who turns away from sin (CCC 982).

The Resurrection in Mark

You sometimes hear skeptics casting doubt on the Christian message by saying that Mark—the earliest of the Gospels—doesn’t even have the resurrection of Jesus in it.

What are they talking about? Mark 16:9 reads, “Now when he rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons.” That’s certainly a mention of the Resurrection, isn’t it?

The issue is that most scholars have concluded that the final twelve verses of Mark (16:9-20) were not part of the original Gospel.

The reasons for thinking this include: (a) the evidence for the Longer Ending weakens the farther back you go in the history of manuscripts; (b) the manuscripts actually contain at least five different endings for Mark; (c) the style of the Longer Ending seems different than the rest of Mark; (d) the content of the Longer Ending is made up primarily of references to things we know about from elsewhere in the New Testament, making it seem to be reconstructed from other sources; and (e) since the risen Jesus has not appeared to anyone by v. 8, it is easy to see how later Christians would want this deficit to be supplied and a new, supplemental ending composed that contained post-Resurrection appearances.

I agree that the evidence suggests that the Longer Ending was not in the original, but this doesn’t really do anything to cast doubt on the Resurrection. The earlier, undisputed text of Mark shows Jesus repeatedly predicting his rising from the dead (8:31, 9:30-31, 10:33-34, 14:28).

Further, immediately before the undisputed text breaks off, an angel has told the women, “Do not be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene who was crucified. He has been raised, he is not here! See the place where they laid him! But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you” (16:6-7).

It is thus clear that Mark firmly believed in the Resurrection of Jesus, so the absence of an explicit resurrection appearance in the undisputed text of Mark does not provide evidence that the Resurrection wasn’t part of the early Christian message.

You don’t have to narrate a resurrection appearance to believe and proclaim the event. Paul’s letter 1 Thessalonians is even earlier than Mark, and in it, Paul clearly preaches Jesus raised from the dead (1:10, 4:14), but he doesn’t narrate a resurrection appearance.

The claim that the Resurrection “isn’t in” Mark thus doesn’t do the work a skeptic would want. The absence of a resurrection appearance in the undisputed text of Mark is more of a historical curiosity than anything else.

But why would this be? There are two basic possibilities: (1) Mark stopped writing at verse 8 (“And [the women] went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid”) and (2) the original ending was lost at a very early stage.

On the first proposal, there is further scholarly division. Some think that Mark deliberately stopped writing there to end his Gospel on an unexpected, challenging note.

Jesus has already predicted his Resurrection many times, and the women have discovered the empty tomb and been told of the Resurrection, but they haven’t seen it. They are therefore faced with the choice of whether or not to believe. Will they overcome their fear and amazement at the idea of the Resurrection and go on to proclaim Jesus to others?

In the same way, Mark knows that his audience has been told of the Resurrection of Jesus, but they haven’t seen it. Will they overcome their trepidation and amazement at the idea and go on to proclaim Jesus to others? We can infer that the women did, and Mark implies that his audience should as well.

On the other hand, some who think that the original version of Mark stopped at v. 8 hold that he did not intend anything so dramatic or avant-garde. He was simply prevented from finishing his planned ending for some reason, and copies of the manuscript got made in its unfinished condition. Advocates of this view may appeal to the fact that Mark’s Gospel seems unpolished (particularly in Greek), as if it were a first draft.

Another possibility is that Mark stopped writing because he never intended his work to be a finished, polished Gospel. Instead, he meant it to be a collection of notes.

The ancients sometimes drew a distinction between two kinds of works. The first was an unpolished collection of material that didn’t have literary pretentions and was meant to serve basic informational needs. In Greek, these works were called collections of hypomnêmata, and in Latin they were called comentarii. Both of these terms meant, roughly, “notes,” “memoranda,” “things to be remembered.”

Sometimes authors would publish books of this nature as reference works or textbooks, as the physician Galen did with some of his medical texts. Other times they would be published in this form for reasons of expediency and timeliness. Thus, Julius Caesar published his Gallic Wars in the form of commentarii.

Authors might prepare works like this as a prelude to more polished literary productions on the same subject. Sometimes one author would prepare hympomnêmata for use by another author. He might even sell it to the second author as the basis for the latter’s literary work. This is similar to how major authors today may use research assistants to prepare the material on which they will base their novels or nonfiction works.

When the time came to produce the literary work, an author would take the initial, unpolished one, put the material in proper literary order, supplement or trim it, and polish its style before publishing it as a new work. This is exactly what Luke and Matthew did, working with Mark as a base text.

On the other hand, scholars who hold the view that the original ending was lost need to explain how this happened. There are two questions here: (1) How, physically, did it happen? (2) When did it happen?

Regarding the first question, if Mark was originally written on a scroll, then the loss of the ending would be unlikely, since the end of a one-sided scroll tended to be the centermost portion of the roll, around which the rest of the roll was wound. It would thus be the part of the scroll most protected from accidental damage.

On the other hand, if it was a double-sided scroll (what was known as an opisthograph) then, if the ending was lost, the beginning should be lost as well, for they likely would have been on opposite sides of the same page. We see this phenomenon with many ancient manuscripts: If the end is lost, the beginning is, too.

If Mark was originally bound as a codex (a book with a spine), it would be easier to see how the last page of the book could be lost, but in Mark’s time codices were not yet common.

Regarding the second question, the destruction of the original ending must have happened very early. There would seem to be three possibilities: It was destroyed (1) at the time between when Mark finished writing and when the first copy was made, (2) after the first copy was made but before others, or (3) when only a few copies were in existence.

Here we encounter a paradox. If the ending was destroyed late—after multiple copies were in existence (i.e., option 3)—then the original one should have survived in the manuscript tradition, but it does not appear to have done so. On the other hand, if the ending was destroyed early—when only a draft or the first new copy existed (i.e., options 1 or 2)—then why didn’t Mark just replicate the original ending?

What is one to say about all this from a Catholic perspective? Is the current, longer ending divinely inspired?

The fact that it appears to have been written by someone other than Mark does not matter. Several books of Scripture have more than one author (e.g., some of Paul’s letters cite additional authors as having input, like Sylvanus and Timothy; see Phil. 1:1, 1 Thess. 1:1, 2 Thess. 1:1)

More of an issue is that the Longer Ending seems to have been composed in the second century, possibly placing it after the end of the apostolic age, when the writing of inspired Scripture ceased.

The Council of Trent infallibly defined that the books of the Catholic canon are “sacred and canonical, these same books entire with all their parts” (Decree Concerning the Canonical Scriptures). This affirmation is most clearly directed against the views of Protestants who wanted to consider the deuterocanonical portions of Daniel and Esther to be non-inspired.

However, there was apparently some discussion of the Longer Ending of Mark during the council, though it is not mentioned in the final decree.

A footnote on Mark 16:9–20 in the New American Bible: Revised Edition states the Longer Ending “has traditionally been accepted as a canonical part of the gospel and was defined as such by the Council of Trent.”

However, Benedict XVI seems to have had a different perspective, writing that, “The authentic text of the Gospel as it has come down to us ends with the fear and trembling of the women” (Jesus of Nazareth, 2:261).

Regardless of how one answers the question of whether Trent intended to define the Longer Ending as canonical, it is still very early, and it witnesses traditions about Jesus circulating in the early Church. Indeed, it is almost entirely composed of material paralleling traditions found in Matthew, Luke, John, and Acts.

Further, the undisputed text of the Gospel of Mark witnesses belief in the Resurrection multiple times, meaning that the Longer Ending does not give us any reason to doubt the early proclamation of the Resurrection.

When Were the Gospels Written? (The Dates of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) – Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World

The four Gospels have been a primary source of information about Jesus Christ for 2,000 years, but in recent times, some skeptics have said they were written so late after Jesus, they aren’t reliable. Jimmy Akin and Dom Bettinelli find out what tradition, Church teaching, and historical sources tell about when the Gospels were really written.

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When Were the Gospels Written?

Here is a brief post to draw together treatments I’ve written on the subject of when the four canonical Gospels were composed.

Determining the dates of Luke and Acts is a key first step in determining the dates of the others, so it is treated first.

I also treat these in my book The Bible Is a Catholic Book.

Posts in this series:

Related to the question of when the Gospels were composed is the order in which they were written–especially the order of Matthew, Mark, and Luke (i.e., the “Synoptic Gospels”). This is known as the Synoptic Problem.

I have written about the Synoptic Problem rather extensively here.

Some additional posts related to the dating of the Gospels and other New Testament books include:

Jude 3 and Sola Scriptura: The Faith Once for All Delivered

Periodically, I’m asked to name a doctrine that is not found in Scripture.

This comes up in discussions about the Protestant doctrine of sola scriptura, which holds that we should use “Scripture alone” to form our doctrine.

Knowing that Catholics base their teachings not only on Scripture but also on apostolic Tradition, supporters of sola scriptura ask Catholics to name a doctrine that we know by Tradition rather than Scripture.

It certainly would be possible to name distinctively Catholic teachings, but since these aren’t accepted by Protestants, it’s more helpful to name some that Protestants do accept.

Typically, I name three:

  1. The fact that there are to be no more apostles (being an eyewitness of Jesus’ ministry was a requirement for membership in the Twelve—cf. Acts 1:21-26—not being an apostle; Jesus appeared to St. Paul and made him an apostle, and if he chose, he could have continued to appear down through the centuries and appoint people as apostles)
  2. The fact that there are to be no more books of Scripture (you didn’t have to be an apostle—Mark and Luke weren’t—and the Holy Spirit could have chosen to inspire new books of Scripture down through the centuries)
  3. There is to be no new publicly binding revelation before the Second Coming (God could have chosen to give this, as illustrated by the previous two examples)

Attempts have been made to prove these doctrines by Scripture alone, but none of the arguments are successful. The verses cited simply do not require any of these three doctrines to be true, though they are accepted by Protestants.

This reveals how our Protestant brethren are, at least in practice, willing to accept doctrines that are based on Tradition rather than Scripture alone.

Here I’d like to look at a verse sometimes cited as proof of the third teaching—that there is to be no more public revelation.

 

Jude’s Plan

The text is found in Jude 3, and for context, here are verses 3 and 4 of the book:

Beloved, being very eager to write to you of our common salvation, I found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints.

For admission has been secretly gained by some who long ago were designated for this condemnation, ungodly persons who pervert the grace of our God into licentiousness and deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ

Based on the Greek text, scholars have generally understood Jude to mean that although he had been eager to write his audience concerning “our common salvation,” he found it necessary to set that plan aside because they had been infiltrated by certain ungodly and immoral people.

Therefore, he is writing them a different letter, in which he warns them against the ungodly people.

 

The Faith Once for All Delivered

For our purposes, the key part is Jude’s exhortation “to content for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints.”

This is the part that interests advocates of sola scriptura: If the Faith has been delivered once for all to the saints, does this mean that the whole of Christian teaching has been revealed, and so there is to be no new public revelation?

There are a number of problems with this idea.

 

Not the Last Book?

First off, if Jude were saying that all public revelation had ended, then—since Scripture is itself public revelation—the book of Jude itself would have to be the last book of Scripture to be penned.

But we don’t know that at all.

Scholars differ on when the book of Jude was written. My own estimate is that it was written around A.D. 64-65, though it could have been later.

The fact is, we don’t know its date with confidence. Neither can we establish the exact dates of many books of the New Testament, so we don’t know which was last.

For example, if—as often supposed—Revelation was the last book to be written, then Jude would require us to eject it from the canon (with all its newly revealed prophecies), as well as any other books written later than Jude.

 

Not the Last Part of the Book

There’s another problem with the idea that Jude 3 is saying that public revelation is closed, which is that it’s speaking of this as having happened in the past—as a completed act (“delivered once for all”).

As we’ll see below, this happened quite some time in the past, but even if we ignored that, the moment that Jude said that the faith had been delivered once for all, that would have been the last bit of public revelation—if he was speaking about the closing of public revelation.

In other words, not only would Jude need to be the last book of the Bible written, Jude 3 would need to be the last verse of Scripture written.

If Jude were talking about the closing of public revelation, you would need to delete the remainder of the book (vv. 4-25) from the canon.

 

“Delivered to the Saints”

It’s worth noting that when Jude speaks of the Faith being “delivered” to the saints, he uses a special term in Greek: paradidômi.

This is the verbal form of paradôsis, which means “tradition”—the term that Paul uses to refer to his own teachings when he commends and commands his audience to keep the traditions that he has given them (1 Cor. 11:2, 2 Thess. 2:15, 3:6).

The verb paradidômi (“deliver”), together with its companion verb paralambanô (“receive”), were used to communicate the giving and receiving of tradition, as in St. Paul’s famous statement:

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 (1 Cor. 15:3-4).

Jude is thus conceiving of the Faith as having been given to the saints as a matter of Tradition.

But when was it given?

Here, as elsewhere in the New Testament, “the saints” refer to the Christian community, and of course “the Faith” refers to the Christian faith.

So, who gave the Christian faith to the Church? Depending on who Jude is thinking about, it would either be Christ himself or at least the apostles.

The latter is perhaps more likely, since later in the letter Jude tells the readers, “You must remember, beloved, the predictions of the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 17)—so we know he was thinking about the apostles as he wrote the letter.

Either way, when did Christ and his apostles deliver the Christian faith to the Church?

No later than A.D. 33. That’s when the Faith was delivered: Right at the beginning.

But even though the Faith had been delivered, that did not mean all public revelation had ceased. There would be many more items of public revelation given, as illustrated by all of the books of the New Testament that remained to be written.

And, as Jesus himself said at the Last Supper:

I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will declare to you the things that are to come (John 16:12-13).

So, even after Christ had made the first Christians—and thus delivered the Faith to them—there was more public revelation to come.

 

“The Faith”

It’s worth discussing what Jude means by “the Faith” a little further. When we read a text in the New Testament, we cannot simply assume that it means what we want it to.

We must first ask what the possible range of meanings a term or text has—and then look at the evidence to see which it best supports.

While it is possible to use the phrase “the Faith” to refer to the entirety of the Christian faith—every single doctrine that Christians are expected to believe—this is far from the only meaning of the term.

It also can be used to refer to the substance or core of the Faith—what is often called “the gospel.”

This is the sense in which “the Faith” can be said to have been delivered by Christ and the apostles, since there had been Christians—and thus members of “the Faith”—ever since the first converts accepted the message of Jesus.

If we knew nothing else, we would have to say that Jude 3 could be referring to either of these meanings and, not having decided between them based on evidence, we could only safely assert that Jude was making the more modest claim—i.e., that he at least meant that the gospel had been delivered to the saints.

However, we could not, without evidence, claim—and we certainly could not claim to have proved—that he had the more expansive meaning in mind, which is what the advocate of sola scriptura would need to show.

But, in fact, the evidence points in the other direction: We have already seen, based on the context, that Jude is talking about the Christian Faith having been given to the saints at some point in the past. In fact, decades in the past, by Christ and/or his apostles.

That points us to the more modest understanding of “the Faith” as simply the gospel. The same is indicated by the fact that—as Jesus himself indicated—there would be ongoing public revelation even after he taught the gospel to his disciples

Jude himself would have acknowledged that public revelation was still being given in his day. Certainly he would have acknowledged this if he recognized his own letter as inspired Scripture (cf. 2 Pet. 1:21).

And even if he didn’t automatically recognize his own letter as Scripture, as some have suggested, we do. Therefore, we must acknowledge that public revelation was still being given when Jude wrote.

All of this points to Jude 3 simply meaning that the substance of the Faith—the gospel—had been definitively delivered to the saints, not every item of public revelation that God would eventually give.

As the (Protestant) British scholar Richard Bauckham notes in his volume on Jude in the Word Biblical Commentary:

[T]here is no reason to suppose that Jude means by pistis [“faith”] anything other than “the gospel.” It need not refer to confessional formulae, though such formulae were already known in Paul’s time, nor does it imply the idea of a defined body of orthodox doctrines. . . . Jude’s readers are to contend, not for some particular formulation of Christian belief, but for the central Christian message of salvation through Jesus Christ (at v. 3).

Further, Jude is thinking in particular of the moral demands of the gospel, since he is warning his readers against immoral people. As Bauckham also notes:

Jude’s concern is especially with the moral implications of the gospel (not with doctrinal orthodoxy; hence the idea that “the faith” means a set of doctrinal formulae is quite inappropriate). No doubt he has in mind particularly the instruction in Christian conduct which accompanied the gospel in the initial teaching given by the apostles, but he refers to the gospel itself, hê pistis [“the faith”], because it is the gospel itself for which his readers will be fighting when they remain faithful to its moral demand and resist the antinomianism of the false teachers.

 

Implications for Sola Scriptura

Jude 3 thus does not prove what advocates of sola scriptura need it to prove. For all the reasons covered above, it does not show that Jude thought public revelation had ceased.

And once we recognize that Jude is simply talking about the substance of the Christian faith—the gospel—it becomes clear that, when he says the faith has been delivered “once for all,” Jude is simply saying that the gospel itself cannot change (cf. Gal. 1:8-9), not that new public revelation cannot be given.

In fact, public revelation—including additional Scripture—was given, as illustrated by the fact Jude does not stop at verse 3. It’s also quite likely that other whole books of Scripture—including, especially, Revelation—remained to be written.

This verse thus does not support sola scriptura.

In fact, even if Jude had meant that public revelation was closed, he doesn’t say anything about all of public revelation being written down. One would thus have to take seriously the possibility that some public revelation continued to be passed on—and preserved by God’s protective guidance—in the form of oral Tradition.

Catholics forthrightly acknowledge that this is what happened—and the fact there is to be no new public revelation before the Second Coming is one of those items of authoritative, apostolic Tradition.

Protestants have, historically, also accepted this teaching, but without an awareness that it is based on Tradition rather than Scripture.

If we were to go by Scripture alone, we would not be able to prove that public revelation has ceased, and thus we could not show that no new Scriptures are to be written and that the canon is closed.

Catholics and Textual Criticism

A correspondent writes:

I am wondering, how do Catholics regard textual criticism? What is the Catholic position on the canonicity of various New Testament passages like the Pericope Adulterae, the Comma Johanneum, and the Longer Ending of Mark, for example?

 

What Textual Criticism Is

For those who may be unfamiliar with the term, textual criticism involves the study of how texts change over time—how bits get added, deleted, or altered.

Some variation in texts was inevitable before the invention of the printing press, since all texts were hand-copied and scribes sometimes made mistakes. Accidental textual variations even occur now that we have the printing press, though not as much.

Also, some textual variations are intentional. This happens on both the smaller level—as when a scribe or a publisher intentionally fixes a typo—and on the larger level, when they produce a “revised and expanded edition” of a work.

 

Textual Criticism and the Bible

One of the goals of textual criticism when it’s applied to the Bible is determining what the original reading of a text was.

There are various ways of doing this, and they involve detective work based on comparing the different readings that are out there and using lines of evidence to figure out which was most likely the original.

There are a large number of textual variants in the thousands of manuscripts that were hand copied before the printing press, but the large majority of them are trivial, such as alternate spellings and word order.

Very few would have any impact on doctrine, and no key doctrine of the Faith is at stake.

Nevertheless, love for God’s word has led Christian and Jewish scholars to spend a great deal of time trying to determine the original wording of the Bible.

 

Earliest Editions and Authoritative/Canonical Editions

It should be pointed out that, even if you determine the earliest reading of a text, that does not tell you what the canonical or authorized version is.

A number of years ago, Mark Twain’s original manuscript for Huckleberry Finn was discovered, and scholars of American literature could see the earliest readings of this text in Twain’s own handwriting—with all the crossing out and marginal additions he made during the writing process.

But even though scholars now could see the earliest readings of different passages, that didn’t mean these belonged in the authorized, “canonical” edition of the novel—i.e., the version of Huckleberry Finn that Twain authorized for publication. Indeed, Twain had crossed them out!

Something similar happens when authors or publishers issue new editions of books. While what a first edition said is of historical interest, later editions supersede earlier ones. Thus, the first edition of a chemistry textbook written in 1940 should not be considered as valuable a teaching text as an updated edition published in 2020 (chemistry has advanced in the last 80 years!). Neither should one rely on a copy of the U.S. legal code published a hundred years ago, but on the current edition of the law.

A parallel phenomenon happens with Scripture, where expanded versions of books and revised versions of material also appear. As I write in The Bible Is a Catholic Book:

God sometimes inspired books that contained material he had already placed in other books. These could be condensed versions of the original. The most famous is Deuteronomy, which condenses and revises the laws given earlier in the Pentateuch. Thus its name, Deuteronomy, means “second law.” Chronicles and 2 Maccabees also condense and supplement material found in other books.

Sometimes God expanded on a previous work. This happened with Jeremiah. There was an original, shorter edition that was burned by King Jehoiakim, but God inspired a new edition that contained the original material as well as much new material (Jer. 36).

God did something similar in the deuterocanonical period. He inspired expanded editions of Daniel and Esther. The first includes three additional sections. One (“The Song of the Three Young Men”) is a hymn sung by Daniel’s companions. The other two (“Susannah” and “Bel and the Dragon”) display Daniel’s wisdom and show how God delivered him. In addition, the expanded edition of Esther includes sections that bring out more clearly the role of God. (The Hebrew edition, strikingly, doesn’t contain explicit references to God.)

So, bear in mind the distinction between the earliest version of a text and the canonical version.

 

Catholics and Textual Criticism

Like scholars in general, Catholic scholars are very interested in determining the earliest version of biblical texts, and so they also practice textual criticism. The Church is totally fine with this and positively encourages it. In 1943, Pope Pius XII wrote:

The great importance which should be attached to this kind of criticism was aptly pointed out by Augustine, when, among the precepts to be recommended to the student of the Sacred Books, he put in the first place the care to possess a corrected text. “The correction of the codices”—so says this most distinguished doctor of the Church—”should first of all engage the attention of those who wish to know the Divine Scripture so that the uncorrected may give place to the corrected.”

In the present day indeed this art, which is called textual criticism and which is used with great and praiseworthy results in the editions of profane writings, is also quite rightly employed in the case of the Sacred Books, because of that very reverence which is due to the divine oracles. For its very purpose is to insure that the sacred text be restored, as perfectly as possible, be purified from the corruptions due to the carelessness of the copyists and be freed, as far as may be done, from glosses and omissions, from the interchange and repetition of words and from all other kinds of mistakes, which are wont to make their way gradually into writings handed down through many centuries. . . .

Nor is it necessary here to call to mind—since it is doubtless familiar and evident to all students of Sacred Scripture—to what extent namely the Church has held in honor these studies in textual criticism from the earliest centuries down even to the present day (Divino Afflante Spiritu 17-18).

The Church thus approves of textual criticism. But what about the three passages that the correspondent asked about?

 

What Are the Three Passages?

The Comma Johanneum, the Pericope Adulterae, and the Longer Ending of Mark are three of the most famous textual variants in the New Testament.

The first—the Comma Johanneum or “Johannine comma” (a “comma” being a short piece of text, in this case) is a variant found in some manuscripts of 1 John 5:7-8. Here it is, with the text in question italicized:

For there are three that beare record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one. And there are three that beare witnesse in earth, the Spirit, and the Water, and the Blood, and these three agree in one (KJV, 1611).

Because this variant makes explicit mention of all three Persons of the Trinity, it became very popular as a text for defending the doctrine of the Trinity. However, as the science of textual criticism developed, it became clear that it may not have been in the original version of 1 John.

The Pericope Adulterae (pronounced per-IH-co-PAY ah-DUL-ter-AE; that is, “the passage concerning the adulteress”) is a variant printed in many Bibles as John 7:53-8:11, and—together with the Longer Ending of Mark—it is one of the two longest textual variants in the entire New Testament. As its name suggests, it’s the famous story about the woman caught in adultery and how Jesus refused to condemn her (“Let he who is without sin among you cast the first stone”).

The Longer Ending of Mark is a variant printed in many Bibles as Mark 16:9-20. It concerns things that happened after the Resurrection of Jesus, and it largely repeats and rephrases material found in the other Gospels and Acts.

 

The Johannine Comma

The Catholic Church does not have a teaching about whether these three variants were in the original editions of the books in question. It leaves that issue to scholars, and most scholars are of the opinion that none of the three were in the earliest versions.

However, this does not settle the question of their canonicity, because later editions may be the ones that God guided to become canonical (as in the case of Jeremiah, Daniel, and Esther).

In the case of the Comma Johanneum, the Magisterium has not taught it to be canonical, and—given the textual evidence against it being in the original—it is not included in most modern Catholic Bibles.

For example, it is not in the revised version of the Latin Vulgate—the translation that the Holy See itself uses. Similarly, it is not in the New American Bible: Revised Edition, which is published by the U.S. bishops.

Neither translation even includes a footnote mentioning the Johannine Comma.

 

The Pericope Adulterae and the Longer Ending of Mark

When it comes to the Pericope Adulterae and the Longer Ending of Mark, the matter is more complicated. Here is what the Council of Trent said:

But if any one receive not, as sacred and canonical, the said books entire with all their parts, as they have been used to be read in the Catholic Church, and as they are contained in the old Latin Vulgate edition . . . let him be anathema (Decree Concerning the Canonical Scriptures).

That’s an infallible definition. The question is what the definition means when it says the books found in the Vulgate need to be accepted as sacred and canonical “entire with all their parts.”

This does not mean that we can’t do textual criticism to determine the original readings. That matter was discussed by Pius XII in Divino Afflante Spiritu (see sections 21-22).

The statement is principally directed against Protestants who were challenging the canonicity of parts of Daniel and Esther (see above), which they rejected as apocryphal. In fact, the whole reason that Trent chose to define the canon was to deal with Protestant challenges to various books of the Old Testament.

That was Trent’s clear intent, but in the discussions that led up to the council fathers voting on this decree, there also was discussion of certain New Testament passages, including the Longer Ending of Mark and the Pericope Adulterae (see Hubert Jedin, A History of the Council of Trent, Volume II, ch. 2).

The subject of whether these passages are also included in Trent’s definition thus will depend on how clearly the council fathers intended to define this matter.

The general rule concerning infallible definitions is:

No doctrine is understood as defined infallibly unless this is manifestly evident (can. 749 §3).

One could argue that what is manifestly evident is that Trent wanted to define the canonicity of the books of the Bible including those passages in the Old Testament that were being disputed by Protestants but that it is not “manifestly evident” that they meant to define the canonicity of particular New Testament passages, in which case the matter would not be infallibly settled.

Because the Longer Ending of Mark and the Pericope Adulterae were mentioned in the background discussions leading up to the approval of the decree, most have concluded that they are defined.

Thus, the editors of the New American Bible have a note on the Longer Ending of Mark that states that it “has traditionally been accepted as a canonical part of the Gospel and was defined as such by the Council of Trent.”

Similarly, they also include a note on the Pericope Adulterae that says, “The Catholic Church accepts this passage as canonical scripture.”

On the other hand, Pope Benedict XVI wrote:

The ending of Mark poses a particular problem. According to authoritative manuscripts, the Gospel comes to a close with 16:8—“and they went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to any one, for they were afraid.” The authentic text of the Gospel as it has come down to us ends with the fear and trembling of the women. . . . In the second century, a concluding summary was added, bringing together the most important Resurrection traditions and the mission of the disciples to proclaim the gospel to the whole world (Mk 16:9–20) (Jesus of Nazareth vol. 2, 261-262).

Benedict thus seems to treat the Longer Ending of Mark as noncanonical, since he indicates it is not part of “the authentic text of the Gospel as it has come down to us.” (Also, in Church-related documents “authentic” means “authoritative,” and if a text is not authoritative, it is not canonical.)

Further, if he is correct that the Longer Ending was written in the second century, that would seem to place it after the apostolic age and make its canonicity further problematic.

One does not have to agree with Benedict, here, for as he famously wrote:

It goes without saying that this book is in no way an exercise of the magisterium, but is solely an expression of my personal search “for the face of the Lord” (cf. Ps. 27:8). Everyone is free, then, to contradict me. I would only ask my readers for that initial goodwill without which there can be no understanding (Jesus of Nazareth, vol. 1, Foreword).

In light of what is manifestly evident regarding Trent’s intention, and Pope Benedict’s statement regarding the ending of Mark, there is presently a question in my mind about whether Trent intended to define the canonicity of the New Testament passages that came up in its preliminary discussions.

To settle the question, I would need access to the texts of these discussions so that I could see exactly what was said and what preliminary votes were taken. Unfortunately, I have thus far not been able to obtain access to this information.

When Was John Written?

The Gospel of John gets a bad rap among skeptical scholars, and many place less value on it than on Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

One reason is that they date it later than the other Gospels.

But when was it really written?

Let’s look at the evidence . . .

 

Physical Evidence

A couple of centuries ago, it became fashionable in biblical scholarship to assign very late dates to John.

For example, the famed German scholar F. C. Baur (1792-1860) dated it to between A.D. 160 and A.D. 170 (The Church History of the First Three Centuries 1:163-164, 175).

Such dates fell out of favor after more recent discoveries. One of the most important was a document known as “the Rylands Papyrus” (aka P52) which is held in the John Rylands University Library in Manchester, England.

The fragment is small (3.5 by 2.5 inches). One side contains text from John 18:31-33 and the other from John 18:37-38.

This fragment has commonly been dated to the first half of the second century, say around A.D. 125 (though this is disputed).

This pushed the date of John back to the beginning of the second century or to sometime in the first century. According to Raymond Brown, SJ, the Gospel is commonly dated by scholars today sometime between 80 and 110 (An Introduction to the New Testament, 334).

However, this view is not well supported.

 

The Evidence of Revelation?

Sometimes scholars, including conservative ones, date all the Johannine literature (John, 1-3 John, Revelation) to the A.D. 90s, seemingly because they aren’t sure when else to place them and this is a popular date for the book of Revelation.

This is problematic for several reasons:

  • It is based on the idea that the recent persecution referred to in Revelation is one that occurred under the emperor Domitian, but there was no Domitianic persecution.
  • As we will see below, we actually have good reason to date Revelation considerably earlier, in the late 60s.
  • People’s literary careers can span decades, and there is no necessary connection between the time Revelation was written and the time the Gospel was.

Revelation thus does not serve as a good anchor for the writing of John’s Gospel.

 

John’s Advanced Age?

Sometimes a late date for John’s Gospel is advocated because of a remark the Evangelist makes to rebut a rumor that he would not die before the Second Coming (John 21:20-23).

This has been taken to indicate that John must have been at an advanced age and saw his death approaching, motivating him to rebut the rumor before he died, lest it cause consternation among the faithful.

However, this does not require a date in the 80s or 90s. If John were written in the mid 60s (as we will argue below), then he already would have been quite mature, even if he were among the youngest of the disciples.

Witnessing the increasing persecution of Christians and actual or approaching martyrdom of apostles (Acts 12:2, John 21:18-19), he could have felt the need to respond to the rumor by the mid 60s.

 

Situational Arguments

Sometimes scholars argue that John should be assigned a date late in the first century because of the situation it suggests the Church was in. For example:

  • The book has a very high view of Christ’s divinity (John 1:1-5, 14:6, etc.), suggesting a late date.
  • The book refers to people being put out of the synagogues (John 9:22, 12:42, 16:2), suggesting a date after the final break with Judaism, which is often claimed to be around A.D. 85.
  • The book refers to “the Jews” as a separate and frequently hostile group (John 1:19, 2:18, 20, etc.).

Situational arguments like this are quite weak. A given generation can have theological savants in it—like John and Paul—who may sound decades more sophisticated than their contemporaries, and there’s nothing in the substance of John’s Christology that isn’t found in Paul. (This argument also ignores the role of Jesus himself; if Jesus had a high view of his own divinity then we would expect at least some of his disciples—like John—to mention it!)

Similarly, as we’ve noted, persecution in the synagogues was a familiar experience for Jewish Christians all the way through New Testament history. Jesus himself was killed, and there is no reason to think that some of his followers weren’t being ostracized even earlier. Indeed, we would expect them to be!

Finally, we find other books of the New Testament referring to “the Jews” as a distinct and frequently hostile group (Matt. 28:15, Acts 9:22-23, 12:3, 13:45, 2 Cor. 11:24, 1 Thess. 2:14), and these books were written in the mid first century. Acts was written around 60, 2 Corinthians was written in 54 or 55, and 1 Thessalonians was written between 49 and 51!

 

Before the Fall of Jerusalem?

Like the Synoptic Gospels, John does not refer to the fall of Jerusalem or the destruction of the temple in A.D. 70.

However, it is harder to make a case from this that John was written before 70 because—unlike the Synoptics—it does not contain a straightforward prediction of the temple’s destruction.

Jesus does allude to it (John 2:19), as does Caiaphas (John 11:48). But Jesus’ reference is only implicit, and the high priest only makes a conjecture. In neither case does Jesus say that the temple will be destroyed, as he does in the Synoptics.

Without an explicit prophecy of the temple’s destruction, we would not expect a prophetic fulfillment notice, and so the fact that John doesn’t give us one amounts only to a weak argument from silence.

Yet there is a verse which does imply a pre-70 date:

Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Hebrew called Beth-Zatha, which has five porticoes (John 5:2).

The Greek word here for “is” (estin) is present tense, indicating a present state of affairs: John is saying that the pool Beth-Zatha (aka “Bethesda”), with its five porticoes, exists in Jerusalem at the time he is writing.

He would not have made this claim after Jerusalem fell, for as the Jewish historian Josephus reports, the Roman general Titus “ordered the whole city and the temple to be razed to the ground, leaving only the loftiest of the towers, Phasael, Hippicus, and Mariamme, and the portion of the wall enclosing the city on the west” (Jewish War 7:1:1-2).

John 5:2 thus gives us reason to hold that the Gospel was written before the destruction in 70 (see Daniel B. Wallace, “John 5, 2 and the Date of the Fourth Gospel”).

If this is correct, A.D. 70 would serve as the upper boundary for when John was composed.

What about the lower boundary?

 

John and the Other Evangelists

The early Church Fathers commonly regard John as the last of the Gospels to be written.

The work itself does not say this, but its last verse at least hints that several Gospels were written previously:

But there are also many other things which Jesus did; were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written (John 21:25).

This suggests that John was aware of several previous books about Jesus’ deeds, and these likely included one or more of the canonical Gospels.

There is quite good evidence that John knew the Gospel of Mark. In fact, there is evidence that he used Mark as a template around which to organize his own Gospel. I have argued this here. It is also argued by the British scholar Richard Bauckham in his chapter “John for Readers of Mark” in The Gospels for All Christians.

There are also reasons to think that John knew Luke’s Gospel. I have been struck by the way John seems to expand upon events mentioned in Luke, particularly in the latter’s Resurrection Narrative. For example:

  • Luke’s statement, “Peter rose and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home wondering at what had happened” (Luke 24:12) is expanded upon by John 20:1-10.
  • Luke’s statement, “And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them” (Luke 24:41-43) is expanded upon by John 21:1-14.
  • Luke exclusively focuses on post-Resurrection events that occurred in or near Jerusalem (Luke 24:1-51), in contrast to Matthew and Mark, who focus on post-Resurrection appearances that occurred in Galilee (Matt. 28:7, 10, 16-20, Mark 16:7; cf. Matt. 26:32, Mark 14:28). By contrast, John indicates that Jesus appeared to the disciples both in Jerusalem and in Galilee (John 20:19-21:23).

It thus seems that there are good reasons to think that John knew Mark, which was composed around A.D. 55, and Luke, which likely was published in A.D. 59.

These dates would put the composition of John between 59 and 70—i.e., in the A.D. 60s.

But there is one Gospel that we still have to consider.

What about Matthew?

 

John and Matthew

While a significant number of scholars have thought that John shows awareness of Mark and Luke, fewer have thought that he shows awareness of Matthew.

The claim that he does has been recently argued by James Barker in his book John’s Use of Matthew.

I am still evaluating the case that John knew Matthew. On independent grounds, I have argued that Matthew was written in the A.D. 60s, say around 65—the same period to which we have dated John.

If Matthew was written in this period, and if it had come into John’s hands, then he may have had little time to assimilate it, resulting in the lesser impact it had on his Gospel compared to Mark and Luke.

At present, I don’t have a judgment on whether Matthew was written first or whether John was. So far, we can only say that it looks like both were written sometime in the 60s.

 

The Book of Revelation Redivivus

The dating of the book of Revelation now returns to affect the dating of John’s Gospel. As I mentioned before, we have evidence that Revelation was written considerably before the date it is often assigned in the 90s.

Specifically, it appears to have been written shortly before the fall of the temple in A.D. 70, during the brief reign of the Emperor Galba (the one emperor who “is,” after the five who have fallen; cf. Revelation 17:10). Galba reigned from June 8 of A.D. 68 to January 15 of A.D. 69.

We also know that Revelation was written when John was in exile on Patmos (Rev. 1:9). This is likely responsible for the difference in the Greek styles of Revelation and the Gospel of John.

While in exile, John may not have had access to the kind of editorial help he may have employed when writing the Gospel (i.e., he may not have had access to a good amanuensis to polish his Greek).

Unfortunately, we do not know much about when John’s exile to Patmos began or ended. However, it is likely both that he was in exile before Galba’s brief reign began and that he remained in it through 69, the chaotic “Year of Four Emperors.”

He thus was likely in exile during at least the last two years of the 60s, meaning the Gospel would have been written in the early or mid 60s.

 

Peter’s Martyrdom

There is one additional factor that may help us date the Gospel. Toward its end, Jesus tells Peter:

Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go (John 21:18).

John then adds:

This he said to show by what death he [Peter] was to glorify God (John 21:19).

This is commonly understood to mean that John’s Gospel was written after Peter’s martyrdom and that John was looking back on the event.

In a currently unpublished study, I have dated the martyrdom of Peter to the mid 60s. It likely took place in mid 65 or mid 66. If so, then the Gospel would have been written in a very short time frame, say in 66 or 67.

However, there is reason to question the premise on which this argument is based.

Most English translations of John 21:19, including the RSV (quoted above), make it sound like Peter’s martyrdom is a past event. They speak of the death by which “he was to glorify God.”

But the Greek text actually has the future tense at this point. The relevant verb is doksasei (“he will/shall glorify”). Some of the most literal translations thus render the passage along these lines:

And this he said, signifying by what death he shall glorify God (John 21:19, Young’s Literal Translation).

I’m uncertain why most translations render the passage the way they do. It may simply be due to the prevalent view among translators that John was written after Peter’s death. However, the Greek verb is future tense.

If the more literal translation is correct, it would appear that Peter’s martyrdom is still in the future at the point that John is writing—or at least that it occurred so recently that John has not yet received word of the martyrdom.

Word of Peter’s death would have spread quickly in the Christian world, though it would have taken months to make its way around the Mediterranean.

If John was in Ephesus at this time, he likely would have heard within a few weeks. (The ORBIS ancient travel database indicates a minimum travel time of just over 12 days between Rome and Ephesus during the spring and summer months, when Peter likely was martyred.)

If the literal translation of John 21:19 is correct, the latest possible date for John’s Gospel thus would be within a few weeks of Peter’s martyrdom, which would still leave us in the 65-66 time frame.

 

Conclusion

In view of the above, I estimate that John’s Gospel was written between the publication of Luke in 59 and the martyrdom of Peter in 65-66. For the sake of convenience, I will reckon it as approximately 65.

This would give us the following dates for the publication of the Gospels and Acts:

  • Mark: approximately 55 (info here)
  • Luke: approximately 59 (info here)
  • Acts: approximately 60 (info here)
  • Matthew: approximately 65 (info here, here, here, and here)
  • John: approximately 65

It thus appears that the historical books of the New Testament were written in the span of about a decade.

When Was Matthew Written? (Final Answer!)

It’s more challenging to figure of the date of Matthew’s Gospel than either Mark or Luke, but we’re finally within striking distance of doing so.

In previous posts, we’ve seen that Matthew was written after Mark, which means after about A.D. 55.

We’ve also seen that it was written before A.D. 70.

That gives us a range of about 15 years, but can we narrow it down further?

Let’s look at the evidence . . .

 

Matthew and Luke

We have a good date for the Gospel of Luke, which was written around A.D. 59, so if we can establish Matthew’s relationship to Luke, we could get a more precise date for his Gospel.

We thus need to consider some theories about how the two Gospels are related:

  1. Matthew and Luke were written independently of each other
  2. Luke used Matthew in composing his Gospel, so Matthew came first
  3. Matthew used Luke, so Luke came first

 

The Independence Hypothesis

This is the most common view among scholars today. According to it, Matthew and Luke wrote their Gospels independently, seemingly without displaying any knowledge of each other’s work.

According to this hypothesis, both used Mark’s Gospel, but there also are over two hundred verses that they also share in common, and if they were truly independent of each other, they needed to get this material from some common source.

Scholars have given this source the name “Q,” from the German word Quelle, which just means “source.”

For this view to work, Matthew and Luke would have had to be written at about the same time.

Otherwise, whichever was written first would have had enough time to spread in the Christian community for the other to have read it, and we would expect to see it reflected in some way in the other Gospel.

I estimate that would have taken no more than five years, so let’s assume that if this view is true then Matthew would have been written within about five years of Luke.

That would put it between roughly A.D. 55 and 65.

This is consistent with our previous finding that it was likely written between 55 and 70, but is there a way we can test this hypothesis?

 

Testing the Independence Hypothesis

For the Independence Hypothesis to work, the hypothetical Q source needs to have existed.

The two strongest arguments for the existence of Q are the fact that Matthew and Luke diverge significantly at the beginnings and the ends of their Gospels. That is, Matthew and Luke read very differently in their accounts of Jesus’ birth and childhood (the “Infancy Narratives”) and in their accounts of his resurrection (the “Resurrection Narratives”).

To put the matter concisely: If one knew of the other’s Gospel, why are their Infancy and Resurrection Narratives so different?

I’ve looked at this matter before, and I’ve concluded that there actually are good reasons both for why their Infancy Narratives read differently and why their Resurrection Narratives read differently.

I thus don’t think the key arguments for Q are persuasive. In addition, there are significant arguments against Q:

  1. Q is an entirely hypothetical source. We don’t have independent evidence for its existence, and thus we should only propose it if we have other, solid grounds for thinking neither Matthew nor Luke knew the other.
  2. Q is billed by the scholars who advocate it as a “sayings source” that preserves the sayings of Jesus, but this does not reflect the facts (see also here).
  3. If Q were a distinct source from Mark, we wouldn’t expect to see Matthew and Luke blending the two, and blending them in the same way, but we do. These places are known as “Mark-Q overlap” passages.
  4. If Matthew and Luke used Mark independently of each other, we would expect to see them making minor modifications in the way Mark phrases things, but we wouldn’t expect to see them modifying Mark in exactly the same way. Yet we do. There are numerous instances where Matthew and Luke phrase things in a way that differs from Mark. These are known as the “minor agreements” against Mark.

The problems with the Q Hypothesis are more fully explored by the British scholar Mark Goodacre and his colleagues in the books Questioning Q and The Case Against Q.

 

If Luke Used Matthew

The idea that Luke used Matthew’s Gospel when writing his own is known as the Farrer Hypothesis.

It assumes that both Matthew and Luke used Mark’s Gospel, but it does away with the need for Q because Luke simply took the two-hundred-plus verses that he shares with Matthew directly from the latter’s Gospel.

This does away with the problems of Q’s hypothetical nature, its role as a “sayings source,” the Mark-Q overlaps, and the “minor agreements.”

Presently, the most forceful exponent of the Farrer Hypothesis is Marc Goodacre, who explores it (among other places) in his book The Synoptic Problem: A Way Through the Maze.

Based on the dates we have proposed, the Farrer Hypothesis would place the composition of Matthew’s Gospel in a very small window: between the composition of Mark, around A.D. 55, and Luke, in A.D. 59.

On this view, we could place Matthew confidently around A.D. 57.

But there’s another possibility we need to consider . . .

 

If Matthew Used Luke

The idea that Matthew used Luke’s Gospel when writing his own is known as the Wilke Hypothesis.

It also does away with the problems associated with the Q Hypothesis.

The Wilke Hypothesis has, rather inexplicably, been long neglected by scholars, but is presently receiving some much needed attention, and several books have appeared on the subject, such as Robert MacEwen’s overview Matthean Posteriority. Alan Garrow also has a helpful series of videos on the subject.

Based on the dates we have proposed, the Wilke Hypothesis would place the composition of Matthew’s Gospel in the A.D. 60s, between the publication of Luke in 59 and the destruction of the temple in 70.

So we need to ask a question . . .

 

Which Came First?

The issue of whether Matthew or Luke was written first—like the Synoptic Problem in general—can get very technical, very quickly, and we don’t have space to descend into the details here.

I will therefore look only at a few top level considerations.

The best argument for the idea that Matthew wrote first appears to be the argument from “editorial fatigue.” This is the idea that, in copying Matthew, Luke introduced certain changes but then unconsciously began to slip back into Matthew’s way of describing things, thus showing that Matthew was his source.

Goodacre explores this idea here.

I have evaluated the argument here, and ultimately I do not find it convincing.

By contrast, the basic argument I would make for the idea that Luke wrote first is that Matthew simply appears to be a more developed literary work.

This occurs on multiple levels, from the organization of Jesus’s sayings into Matthew’s five great discourses, to tiny tweaks, such as when Luke’s unqualified “Blessed are you poor” (Luke 6:20) becomes Matthew’s “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matt. 5:3) to bring out the significance of spiritual rather than merely material poverty.

Particularly striking is the fact that sayings of Jesus that are scattered all over the place in Luke are organized into obvious, topical blocks in Matthew.

This is easy to explain if Matthew wrote later: He was simply an organizer, and so he organized the sayings he found in Luke.

However, the reverse is harder to explain: If Luke used Matthew then he would have had to smash Matthew’s beautifully organized blocks and scatter the material around in a far less obviously organized way.

Defenders of the Farrer Hypothesis argue that Luke had reasons for doing this, but, if so, they are not obvious, whereas Matthew’s organizational scheme is clear.

At least on the level of appearances, it is hard to avoid Reginald Fuller’s rather brusque assessment that, if the Farrer Hypothesis were true, Luke would present us with “a case of unscrambling the egg with a vengeance!” (The New Testament in Current Study, 1963).

B. H. Streeter put the matter even more brusquely when he argued that the way Luke would have to treat the material he drew from Matthew, in comparison with what he drew from Mark, by saying that “a theory which would make an author capable of such a proceeding would only be tenable if, on other grounds, we had reason to believe he was a crank” (The Four Gospels, 183).

Streeter is too harsh, but given the problems with the Q Hypothesis and the fact that it’s easier to explain Matthew’s use of Luke rather than the reverse, I come to the tentative conclusion that Luke wrote before Matthew.

This would put the writing of Matthew in the decade between the publication of Luke and the destruction of the temple, say around A.D. 65.

 

External Evidence?

It’s always good to support deductions from evidence internal to the Gospels with evidence external to them, and it happens that in this case there is a piece of confirmatory, external evidence. Writing around 189, St. Irenaeus of Lyons states:

Matthew also issued a written Gospel among the Hebrews in their own dialect, while Peter and Paul were preaching at Rome, and laying the foundations of the Church. After their departure, Mark, the disciple and interpreter of Peter, did also hand down to us in writing what had been preached by Peter (Against Heresies 3:1).

Note that Irenaeus states Matthew wrote his Gospel “while Peter and Paul were preaching in Rome.” That would place its composition between Paul’s arrival in Rome, which I have dated to A.D. 58, and their martyrdoms, which occurred in the mid 60s (likely 65 or 66 in the case of Peter and 67 in the case of Paul).

Irenaeus thus confirms the general date I have proposed for Matthew.

However, we must not place too much weight on this fact, for Irenaeus appears to imply that Mark was written after Peter and Paul’s deaths, and thus after Matthew, which would not be correct. Also, he states that Matthew wrote among the Hebrews “in their own dialect” (Greek, tê idia dialektô), which could merely mean that he wrote in a Jewish style—which would be true—but which more naturally would mean that he wrote in the Aramaic language, which appears not to have been the case.

Despite these difficulties, it is possible that Irenaeus, writing about 125 years later, preserves an authentic memory of when Matthew’s Gospel was written.

 

Conclusion

Regardless of what one thinks of Irenaeus, we have the following approximate dates for the Synoptic Gospels:

  • Mark: around 55
  • Luke: around 59
  • Matthew: around 65

But what about John? That’s what we’ll turn to next.

Was Matthew Written BEFORE A.D. 70?

Recently we’ve been looking at the question of when the Gospel of Matthew was composed.

In our first post, we argued that Matthew was written sometime between A.D. 55 and 100, and since then we’ve been trying to narrow down the range.

A key event falling in the middle of this period was the conquest of Jerusalem and the destruction of its temple in A.D. 70.

In our previous post, we looked at arguments that Matthew was written after this traumatic event and found that they lack force.

But do we have reasons to think that the Gospel was written before 70?

Let’s look at the evidence . . .

 

Authorship by the Apostle?

The external evidence found in the writings of the Church Fathers is strongly in favor of the Apostle Matthew as the author of the Gospel attributed to him.

Some have argued that it would be unlikely for Matthew to have written after A.D. 70, meaning it had an earlier date than this.

I’ve studied the likely ages of the apostles, and it can be reasonably estimated that Matthew was born sometime around A.D. 4. He thus would have been in his 60s when Jerusalem was destroyed, and that’s by no means an unreasonable age for an author in the ancient world.

While it’s true that the ancients had shorter lifespans than ours, this is primarily due to the high infant mortality rate. Anyone who survived to adulthood—like Matthew—would have a lifespan almost equal to our own. Thus Raymond Brown, SJ, comments:

Most who think that the apostle Matthew himself wrote the Gospel tend toward a pre-70 dating (although obviously the apostle could have lived till later in the century) (An Introduction to the New Testament, 216).

Similarly, D. A. Carson and Douglas Moo observe:

If the apostle Matthew is judged, on balance, to be the evangelist, a date before A.D. 70 is more plausible (though certainly not necessary—there is excellent evidence that the apostle John was active for at least two decades after 70) (An Introduction to the New Testament, 2nd ed, 155).

The argument thus has some weight, but it is far from decisive.

 

Passages Presupposing the Temple?

Matthew contains a number of passages that envision the temple as still functioning:

If you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift (Matt. 5:23-24).

Have you not read in the law how on the sabbath the priests in the temple profane the sabbath, and are guiltless? (Matt. 12:5).

He who swears by the altar, swears by it and by everything on it; and he who swears by the temple, swears by it and by him who dwells in it (Matt. 23:20-21).

It could be argued that Matthew is simply quoting things Jesus said during his ministry and that this has no further significance, but that is open to challenge.

We need to ask the question: Why did Matthew choose to record these things, of all the Jesus traditions he had at his disposal? Surely, he thought they were relevant to his audience, and they would be more relevant if the temple were still standing.

The first and the last, especially, would be more relevant to his audience of Jewish Christians if the temple were standing, because otherwise they could not go to Jerusalem and offer a gift at the altar—nor would they be tempted to swear by an altar or a temple that had been demolished as a result of God’s judgment.

These passages thus add weight to the case for a pre-70 date.

 

The Temple Tax

A passage deserving special note is the one dealing with the temple tax:

When they came to Capernaum, the collectors of the half-shekel tax went up to Peter and said, “Does not your teacher pay the tax?”

 He said, “Yes.” And when he came home, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tribute? From their sons or from others?”

And when he said, “From others,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are free. However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook, and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel; take that and give it to them for me and for yourself” (Matt. 17:24-27).

Jesus thus implies that he and Peter do not need to pay the temple tax but should do so anyway to avoid giving offense.

The reason this is significant for our purposes is not just that Jewish Christians wouldn’t need to pay the temple tax once the structure was in ruins, it is that the Romans repurposed the tax so that it supported the temple of Jupiter Best and Greatest—i.e., the Capitoline Temple in Rome! The Jewish historian Josephus reports:

He [Domitian] also laid a tribute upon the Jews wheresoever they were and enjoined every one of them to bring two drachmae every year into the Capitol, as they used to pay the same to the temple at Jerusalem (Jewish War 7:6:6[218]).

Similarly, the Roman historian Cassius Dio states:

From that time forth it was ordered that the Jews who continued to observe their ancestral customs should pay an annual tribute of two denarii to Jupiter Capitolinus (Roman History 65:7:2).

Some Jews tried to avoid paying this tax (which amounted to just two days’ wages), even by the expedient of posing as Gentiles. Yet payment was rigorously enforced, at times in humiliating ways. The Roman historian Suetonius reports:

Besides other taxes, that on the Jews was levied with the utmost rigor, and those were prosecuted who without publicly acknowledging that faith yet lived as Jews, as well as those who concealed their origin and did not pay the tribute levied upon their people. I recall being present in my youth when the person of a man ninety years old was examined before the procurator and a very crowded court, to see whether he was circumcised (The Twelve Caesars “Domitian” 12:2).

Diverting tax money that originally supported the temple in Jerusalem to support the key temple in Rome was an enormous insult to Jewish sensibilities, and the fact they were forced to pay it was a profound humiliation.

For Matthew—if he was writing after A.D. 70—to portray Jesus as condoning the payment of this tax would have risked confusing, alienating, or outraging members of his audience. Jesus could even be understood as financially supporting idolatry so as “not to give offense”!

The inclusion of the passage in his Gospel is far more understandable if Matthew were writing before 70, when Jewish Christians still needed to wrestle with the question of whether to support the temple whose officials had rejected and crucified Jesus and whose destruction he had prophesied. Carson and Moo state:

Even if for other reasons Matthew had wanted to preserve this pericope, it is hard to see how, if he was writing after 70, he could have permitted such an implication without comment (p. 156).

 

An Exhortation to Pray

Matthew 24 contains a major prophetic discourse dealing with the events leading up to the destruction of the Jerusalem temple.

During the course of the discourse, Jesus says that when the abomination of desolation spoken of by Daniel appears “standing in the holy place” that those in Judea are to “flee to the mountains” (Matt. 24:15-16). He warns them to flee immediately, not going back for anything, and then he says:

Pray that your flight may not be in winter or on a sabbath (Matt. 24:20).

It is well known that the Christian community in Jerusalem did flee the Jewish War, taking up residence in the Jordanian settlement of Pella (Eusebius, Church History 3:5:3).

Like all ancient authors, Matthew was conscious of the need to save space in his book so that it would fit on a single scroll, and he regularly drops words and phrases from Mark for just this reason.

So why would he preserve this exhortation to Judean Christians to pray that their flight not take place in winter or on a sabbath (when travel would be difficult) if the flight had already occurred and the need to pray no longer existed?

 

No Fulfillment Notice

Another, even weightier aspect of Matthew 24 is the fact that it’s Jesus’ major prophetic discourse in the Gospel, and it’s focused on the destruction of the temple, which Jesus predicts at the very beginning of the chapter (Matt. 24:1-2).

Despite the fact this is Jesus’ longest prophecy, and thus of great importance to Matthew, he nowhere records that it has been fulfilled.

This requires explanation. The Evangelists regularly report it when Jesus made a prophecy that was later fulfilled, as it shows his credentials as a true prophet.

Thus when they record Jesus predicting his arrest, death, and resurrection, the Evangelists correspondingly report these prophecies being fulfilled.

Matthew, of all the Evangelists, is especially noted for including prophetic fulfillment notices in his Gospel (Matt. 1:23, 2:6, 17, 23, 3:3, 4:14-16, 13:14).

Similarly, Matthew breaks the flow of his narrative to report on conditions in his own day (Matt. 27:8, 28:15).

In view of these factors, we would expect Matthew in particular, of all the Evangelists, to comment on the fulfillment of Jesus’ prophecy concerning the temple. As the German scholar Theodor Zahn commented:

If “to this day” (27:8, 28:15) were after the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple, we would expect that an author who values so highly as does Matthew proof based upon the occurrence of prophecy and its fulfilment for the justification of Christ over against Judaism, would indicate somewhere and in some manner that the prophecy of Jesus had been fulfilled in this judgment (Introduction to the New Testament, 571).

Yet he does not do so. This puts the destruction of the temple in the same category as other yet-to-be-fulfilled prophecies, such as the Second Coming.

Particularly in light of the space Matthew devotes to the prophecy, the fact he does not give us a fulfillment notice strongly argues for a pre-70 date.

 

No Disentanglement

Even more striking, Matthew makes no attempt to disentangle the Second Coming from the events leading up to the temple.

Each of the Synoptic Gospels speaks of there being a “coming” of Jesus in the discourse about the temple’s destruction (Matt. 24:30, Mark 13:26, Luke 21:27).

In my view, this was not the Second Coming but a coming in judgment, as when the Old Testament describes God “riding the clouds” when he comes in judgment on a people (Ps. 104:3; Isa. 19:1-2; Jer. 4:13-14).

However, to the first Christians (and many since), it would have been easily confused with the Second Coming of Christ.

We would thus expect the Evangelists—if they were writing after 70—either to drop the references to this coming from the discourse or to somehow clarify for the audience that it wasn’t the Second Coming.

To fail to do this could scandalize the audience by making it look like Jesus predicted the Second Coming at a time when it failed to occur.

Yet they do not do so. Contemporary scholar Donald Hagner comments:

Matthew’s redaction of the Markan eschatological discourse makes no attempt to disentangle the references to the fall of Jerusalem and the end of the age (chap. 24). Luke very deliberately does so in his redaction of Mark 13, and we might expect Matthew to do the same had it been written after 70. Indeed, the evangelist aggravates the problem considerably by his insertion of eutheôs, “immediately,” in 24:29, which leaves the clear impression that he expected the parousia of the Son of Man to occur in close succession to the fall of Jerusalem (Word Biblical Commentary, Matthew 1-13, vol. 33A, lxxiv).

The fact that the Synoptic Evangelists neither drop the “coming” language nor clarify that it doesn’t refer to the Second Coming strongly implies that they—Matthew included—were writing before the destruction of the temple.

That would indicate that Matthew’s Gospel was written sometime between Mark—around A.D. 55—and the destruction of the temple in 70.

But can we be more specific? That’s what we’ll look at in our next and final post on Matthew’s date.

Was Matthew Written AFTER A.D. 70?

Many scholars hold that the Gospel of Matthew was written after the traumatic events of A.D. 70, when the Jewish War came to its climax and the Jerusalem temple was destroyed.

In a previous post, we argued that Matthew was written sometime between A.D. 55 and 100, but what are we to make of the arguments that it was composed after 70?

Let’s look at the evidence . . .

 

Presupposing the Destruction of the Temple?

Some have argued that Matthew was written after 70 because it depicts Jesus predicting the destruction of the temple (Matt. 24:1-2).

However, this is not a good argument, for it presupposes that Jesus could not have predicted such an event.

Indeed, one doesn’t even have to suppose that Jesus was a genuine prophet, just that he was a shrewd observer of “the signs of the times” (Matt. 16:3) and could deduce the likely outcome of Jewish anti-Roman passions and the war that they would produce.

The temple had already been destroyed once, and the fear it might happen again was real.

Jesus wasn’t even the only person to predict its destruction in advance. (More here.)

The weakness of the argument in this form is acknowledged by many scholars, and so a refinement has been proposed that argues Matthew’s Gospel contains passages which presuppose that the event has already happened. Raymond Brown, SJ, writes:

For instance, the omission in Matt. 21:13 of the description of the Jerusalem Temple as serving “for all the nations” (Mark 11:17) and the reference in Matt. 22:7 to the king burning the city may reflect the destruction at Jerusalem by the Roman armies in A.D. 70.

These arguments are both quite weak. Note that Brown only says the passages “may reflect” the events of 70.

 

“For All the Nations”

The first passage reads:

He said to them, “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’; but you make it a den of robbers” (Matt. 21:13).

It’s true that Mark adds “for all the nations” after “a house of prayer,” but one can’t argue that Matthew deleted this out of animus for Gentiles after the Romans destroyed the temple.

As we’ve seen, Matthew is far from being hostile to Gentiles, and the theme of their evangelization and salvation is a prominent one in his Gospel.

If we want an explanation for why he would delete this phrase, we need look no further than the fact Matthew incorporates 90% of the material in Mark and thus needs to shorten it so that he can fit in all of the additional material he wants to include in his Gospel.

Matthew thus regularly drops words and phrases from what he takes from Mark.

 

“And Burned Their City”

The second passage Brown cites occurs at the end of the parable of the wedding banquet, where we read this about the king who is snubbed:

The king was angry, and he sent his troops and destroyed those murderers and burned their city (Matt. 22:7).

This also proves nothing. As D. A. Carson and Douglas Moo observe:

The language of Matthew 22:7, including the reference to the burning of the city, is the standard language of both the Old Testament and the Roman world describing punitive military expeditions against rebellious cities. Granted that Jesus foresaw the destruction of Jerusalem (as did many prophets before him), the language he used does not in any detail depend on specific knowledge as to how things actually turned out in A.D. 70. In fact, [John A.T.] Robinson goes so far as to argue that the synoptic prophecies about the fall of Jerusalem, including Matthew 22:7, are so restrained that they must have been written before 70 (An Introduction to the New Testament, 2nd ed., 153).

The last argument is that the prophecies about the destruction of Jerusalem are so general and in keeping with ordinary Roman practice that they don’t betray a knowledge of the details of what happened in 70, and so they were written before that event. Robinson was a liberal English scholar, and liberal German scholar Adolf von Harnack concurred, stating:

Chap. 22:7 and many other passages are rather in favor of composition before the catastrophe (The Date of the Acts and the Synoptic Gospels, 134, n. 2).

Fundamentally, if Jesus could foresee—supernaturally or otherwise—the conquest of Jerusalem and the destruction of its temple, he could similarly foresee the burning of the city.

 

The Church

Matthew’s Gospel is unique in that it refers to his “church.” In Matthew 16:18, he says “I will build my church,” and in 18:17 he says “tell it to the church.”

It is argued that this reflects a developed understanding of the Church, but this hardly requires a date after A.D. 70.

St. Paul uses the Greek word for church—ekklesia—61 times in his epistles, all of which were written before A.D. 70.

St. Luke uses it a further 23 times in Acts, which was also written before A.D. 70 (specifically, in A.D. 60, as we discussed before).

The word “church” for the community of Jesus’ followers thus was well established long before the events of 70.

 

Separation from the Synagogue?

Sometimes it is argued that Matthew displays knowledge of the final separation of church and synagogue in passages like these:

Beware of men; for they will deliver you up to councils, and flog you in their synagogues (Matt. 10:17).

Therefore, I send you prophets and wise men and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify, and some you will scourge in your synagogues and persecute from town to town (Matt. 23:34).

The final separation of church and synagogue is then argued to have taken place around A.D. 85, when the Birkath ha-Minim (Hebrew, “blessing concerning the heretics”) is said to have been introduced into Jewish prayer and thus prevented Jewish Christians from participation in Jewish worship, since it was directed against them.

However, there are multiple problems with this argument.

First, the history and interpretation of the Birkath ha-Minim is highly debatable, making it too uncertain to use as a marker for dating.

Second, the alleged introduction of it around 85—if that even is when it was introduced—is a dividing line of convenience. The separation of church and synagogue was a lengthy process that cannot be assigned to a single date.

Third, the verses in question do not speak of Jewish Christians being excluded from the synagogue by the introduction of a prayer. They speak of them being beaten in synagogues.

Fourth, the verses actually speak of a time before the separation was complete. They envision a time when Jewish Christians were still attending the synagogue and thus could be subject to beatings there.

Fifth, the persecution of Christians attending synagogues, including beatings, is precisely what we see in the book of Acts (9:2, 20-23, 13:43-50, 14:1-6, 17:1-5, 10-13, 18:17, 22:19, 26:11), and the events it records took place between A.D. 33 and 60.

Sixth, this objection presupposes that Jesus could not have—supernaturally or otherwise—foreseen the consequences of the spread of the Christian message for his followers (despite the fact he foresaw his own death and undertook actions he knew would provoke the Jewish authorities).

 

“To This Day”

Matthew 27:8 refers to the fact that the field where Judas died has been called the field of blood “to this day,” and Matthew 28:15 reports that the idea the disciples stole Jesus’ body has been circulating among non-Christian Jews “to this day.”

Concerning such passages, Raymond Brown argues:

Two passages (27:8; 28:15) describe items in the Matthean passion narrative that are remembered “to this day,” using an OT phrase to explain place names from long ago (Gen. 26:33; 2 Sam. 6:8). Such a description would be very inappropriate if Matt was written only two or three decades after A.D. 30/33 (An Introduction to the New Testament, 216).

This is very weak. The phrase “to this day” may be used in the Old Testament to refer to things that started in the distant past, but this is far from a required condition.

Despite Brown’s reference to “two or three decades,” in context he is using this as an argument against Matthew having a pre-A.D. 70 date. The difference between A.D. 30 and 70 is four decades, and Brown himself places Matthew’s composition in “80-90, give or take a decade” (p. 172).

So . . . “two or three decades” would be a “very inappropriate” period to warrant the use of the phrase “to this day” but four or five would make it appropriate?

That’s hardly plausible. All that the phrase indicates is that some period of time which the author deems significant has passed, and a distance of 30 years—quite long in the lifetime of an ancient person—would be quite sufficient.

 

Conclusion

We haven’t found any good arguments for Matthew being written after A.D. 70.

Are there good arguments for it being written before 70?

That’s what we’ll turn to next . . .