The Cost of the Gospels and the Synoptic Problem

Synoptic EvangelistsThe question of how the costs producing the Gospels would have affected the choices that their authors made is almost totally ignored. We will seek to remedy this by looking at the cost that producing the Gospels would have had on the Synoptic problem.

Today, when there are ministries that give away Bibles for free, people completely take the idea of owning the Gospels for granted. But in the first century, books were fantastically expensive, including the Gospels.

How expensive?

Let’s do some back-of-the-envelope calculations.

(NOTE: See here for other parts of my exploration of the Synoptic Problem.)

 

Paul’s Letters

A helpful resource for estimating the cost of the Gospels is E. Randolph Richard’s book Paul and First-Century Letter Writing. He has some helpful estimates of the cost of Paul’s letters, and he explains the estimates in a way that lets us extend them to other works.

First, he offers a word of caution:

[O]ur data from the time of Paul is too thin to draw any conclusions about the cost Paul incurred in writing and sending letters. All estimates are filled with guesswork. Some scholars will say that any attempts to estimate Paul’s cost should be avoided altogether. Nevertheless, many today could not even venture a guess as to the cost. We often have a vague impression that the cost to write Paul’s letters was insignificant, and such an impression is misleading. For this reason, an educated guess is helpful (p. 165).

Richards then breaks down the price Paul would have had to pay into the cost of supplies and the cost of the labor.

 

The Cost of Supplies

Concerning supplies, Richards writes:

The secretary usually took the initial notes and prepared the first draft on tablets or washable papyrus notebooks. We may assume these materials were not charged to Paul. The dispatched copy was written on papyrus, as was the copy Paul retained. Paul would have been charged for the papyrus for both copies (pp. 165-166).

How much papyrus would be used would depend on whether the scribe wrote in large or small letters:

Some secretaries wrote with large letters; some wrote in a small, cramped hand. We, of course, have no idea the penmanship used by Paul’s secretary. Judging from the papyri, a medium hand was the most common (p. 166).

And Richards judges that the ink and pens used by the scribes were likely included in the overall service charge:

Ink (and the pen), I assume, was not a separate expense but was included in the secretary’s basic charges (p. 167).

 

The Cost of Labor

Concerning labor, Richards writes:

Unlike merely preparing a new copy of an existing work, secretarial costs for preparing a letter needed to include the cost of writing out all the drafts and revisions. Since we have no idea how many times Paul had a letter rewritten, I cannot estimate this very well. . . .

After the preparation of an initial draft, there was probably at least one revision. To err again on the side of caution, I have said that for most of his letters Paul paid for a minimum of the initial draft and one revision, both done on tablets or washable notebooks, then paid for a copy to be dispatched (with nice script on good papyrus) and a copy to be retained (p. 168).

This results in at least four probable labor charges:

  • The initial notes taken
  • One revision
  • A final version to keep
  • A final version to send

These would be approximately the same length (unless Paul radically changed the length of a letter in the revision phase), and so would be of approximately equal cost.

 

The Exchange Rate

Richards estimates the cost of supplies and labor for Paul’s letters in terms of the denar, an ancient unit of currency. To make this meaningful to a modern audience, he also gives a conversion of this into modern (2004) dollars.

So what’s the exchange rate?

Richards writes:

Attempting to convert ancient denars to U.S. currency is a difficult matter. Some scholars choose to use commodities like grain prices or gold prices, yet ancients held such commodities in different esteem than we do. Once again, to gain the same “emotional” equivalent for currency, we shall return to the “workers conversion rate” used in chapter three. An unskilled laborer in the time of Paul earned a half-denar per day, or $60 in today’s currency. Since the drachma had devaluated some during Paul’s time and to err again on the side of caution, an additional 10 percent was removed from Paul’s rate, settling on a conversion rate of one denar = $110 (p. 168).

 

The Cost of Romans

Applying his estimates to a specific book—Romans—Richards comes up with the following figures.

He estimates, based on Romans’ length, that the papyrus for each copy would have cost 5.44 denars and that the secretarial cost per copy would be 2.45 denars.

Assuming Paul wasn’t charged for the reusable media for the initial notes pass and the revision pass, Paul would have had to pay for two batches of papyrus—one for his archival copy of the letter and one for the copy sent to Rome. That would be a total cost of 10.88 denars.

Paul would have had to pay for four scribal charges (notes, revision, and the two copies), for a total of 9.8 denars.

Adding the supplies and labor costs together, Romans would have cost 20.68 denars.

Assuming the $110 exchange rate, in modern currency, that would be $2,275 dollars.

Even once the initial copies of Romans had been written, a single, new copy would cost 7.89 denars (5.44 for papyrus and 2.45 for labor), or approximately $868.

This is a far larger sum than most people today would suspect, and the numbers get even bigger when we look at the Gospels.

 

The Single-Copy Cost of the Gospels

How much would it have cost, in the ancient world, just to have a single copy of one of the Gospels made?

To estimate this, we can use the numbers that Richards provided for Romans and scale them up based on the size of the Gospels.

Although the number of words in ancient manuscripts is slightly different due to textual variants, the Greek text of Romans may be said to have 7,111 words, while the four Gospels have these figures:

  • Matthew: 18,345 words
  • Mark: 11,304 words
  • Luke: 19,482 words
  • John: 15,635 words

These figures would be slightly smaller if the longer ending (Mark. 16:9-20) were omitted from Mark’s total and the pericope adulterae (John 7:53-8:11) were omitted from John, but they will do for purposes of making rough cost estimates.

Dividing these figures by the length of Romans, we can derive the following percentages:

  • Matthew: 258%
  • Mark: 159%
  • Luke: 274%
  • John: 220%

That is to say, Matthew is 258% as long as Romans, and so forth.

We can now scale up the cost of supplies and labor for making a single copy of each Gospel. If a single copy of Romans cost 5.44 denars for papyrus (equivalent to $598) then the following would be the approximate papyrus costs for the Gospels:

  • Matthew: 14.03 denars ($1,543)
  • Mark: 8.65 denars ($952)
  • Luke: 14.90 denars ($1,639)
  • John: 11.96 denars ($1,316)

If a single copy of Romans cost 2.45 denars ($270) in labor then the following would be the approximate scribal costs for the Gospels:

  • Matthew: 6.32 denars ($695)
  • Mark: 3.89 denars ($428)
  • Luke: 6.71 denars ($738)
  • John: 5.39 denars ($593)

Adding the costs of supplies and labor together, the costs for a single, new copy of each of the Gospels would be as follows:

  • Matthew: 20.35 denars ($2,238)
  • Mark: 12.54 denars ($1,379)
  • Luke: 21.61 denars ($2,377)
  • John: 17.35 denars ($1,909)

These are impressive figures! And they are only the beginning. We still have to consider the costs of producing and launching the Gospels.

 

The Cost of Q

Today the most popular theory among scholars holds is known as the “Two-Document hypothesis.” It holds that Matthew and Luke drew upon two sources: the Gospel of Mark and another hypothetical, lost source known as Q.

The Q source is thought to be behind approximately 235 verses of Matthew and Luke.

Because we do not have any surviving copies, we do not know what its word count in Greek (or any other language) would have been.

However, using 235 verses as an initial guide, that would make it 22% the length of Matthew (which has 1,071 verses) and 20% the length of Luke (which 1,151 verses).

Converting this into a word count, we would expect Q to have between 3,978 and 4,025 words in its Greek text. We may thus estimate Q’s minimum length as around 4,000 Greek words—at a minimum.

We must add “at a minimum,” because we do not know how much of Q Matthew and Luke would have used. Modern scholars frequently propose that they used virtually all of it, since it has not survived to the present day, but we do not know this.

However, if we assume that the Two-Document hypothesis is true then we may have another clue to Q’s length, because we can look at the way Matthew and Luke would have treated Mark.

On this view, Matthew would have used approximately 600 verses of Mark’s 661, which means that he would have used 91% of it. If Mathew treated Q the same way, he would have used 91% of it, making Q 258 verses long—or 4,419 words in Greek (given the length of verses in Matthew).

On the other hand, Luke would have used approximately 365 verses of Mark’s 661, meaning he used 55% of Mark. If Luke treated Q the same way, he would have used 55% of it, making Q 427 verses long—or 7,227 words in Greek (given the length of verses in Luke).

It is certain that, if Q existed, it would have been at least slightly longer than the 235 proposed verses would indicate, corresponding to the 4,419 Greek words our Matthew-based estimate provides.

However, it is quite possible that it was longer. The fact is, we do not know how Matthew and Luke would have treated this source, and so for estimating purposes, we will split the difference and assume that Q would have been halfway between the two estimates, or 5,823 words in Greek, making it 82% the length of Romans’ 7,111 words.

Using this as an estimate, we can calculate the costs of producing a single copy of Q as follows:

  • Papyrus: 4.46 denars ($491)
  • Scribal labor: 2.01 denars ($221)
  • Total: 6.47 denars ($712)

Although Q is only a hypothetical source, these figures will play a role in our later reasoning.

 

Production Costs

Before one of the Gospels could be copied, it had to be written, and there were costs associated with doing that.

The starting point for estimating them is recognizing the stages with which production proceeded. In the broadest terms, these can be described as:

  1. Research (before writing)
  2. Drafting (first writing)
  3. Revision (polishing before the final version)

At the end of the revision process there would be a final document ready for copying.

This leaves us to consider the three stages.

 

The Research Stage

Before an Evangelist began writing his Gospel, he needed to gather his source material.

For the material in his memory, there would have been no cost.

The same may have been true for material he learned from oral sources—if he committed it to memory. However, if it was substantial enough that he committed it to writing, he would have needed to pay for this.

Even estimating the latter cost at zero (based on re-usable materials he may have already had), the degree of word-for-word agreement between the Synoptic Gospels suggests that some Evangelists had written sources before them.

Given the cost of writings in the ancient world, that means that the Evangelists may have incurred significant costs in simply gathering their materials.

What might these be?

The answer will depend on which view of the Synoptic Problem one prefers:

  • If one assumes Markan priority then Matthew and Luke would have had copies of Mark.
  • If one assumes Matthean priority then Mark and Luke would have had copies of Matthew.
  • On the Farrer hypothesis, Luke would have had Matthew
  • On the Wilke hypothesis, Matthew would have had Luke.
  • And on the Two-Document Hypothesis, Matthew and Luke would have had Q.

But would having these documents really have been research costs?

This depends on what the Evangelists did with them.

Even before the age of word processor cutting and pasting, it would be tempting for an author to purchase a copy of the sources he wanted to use, take a knife or scissors, cut out the passages he wished to copy, and then paste them into a notebook to provide an initial outline. But this would be based on the inexpensive copies that have only been available in the last few hundred years. An author in the ancient world could have been deterred from this course of action by cost alone.

What would an ancient author have chosen?

He might still have chosen the literal cut-and-paste option, though he might have chosen something else as well.

For example, he might have chosen to mark up his sources so that he could turn to the parts he wanted to copy. If he marked them up only lightly then the sources could have been fit for later use, but if he marked them up too much, this would not have been the case.

Alternately, he might have chosen not to mark his sources but to have specific passages from them copied—either to papyrus or to wax tablets or washable notebooks. In such cases, he might limit or avoid the supplies cost, but he could still have to pay the labor cost of the copying.

One might suppose that an Evangelist had copies of all of the sources he wanted to use in his personal library. However, only rich people could afford libraries, and it is also possible that, before the Evangelists decided to write, their knowledge of the other Gospels (and/or Q) were based on what they heard read in church.

This is likely since it is hardly plausible that the authors of the sources would have had free copies sent to all their likely successors. The Evangelists probably encountered the sources they later chose to use through their reading in church, and they probably obtained copies to use themselves.

The ultimate question is not whether the Evangelists paid for these copies themselves. They may or may not have. Patrons or the funds of a local congregation could have paid for them. But the had to be bought for the Evangelists to use them as sources, and that would have put a strain on the funds an Evangelist had available to him, whether they were his own funds or those of an associate or congregation.

Thus, even if an Evangelist did not intend to make copies of his sources unusable in the future, it is likely that a cost was incurred in obtaining them.

How much this would have been would depend on what scenario one proposes, but it is implausible to either estimate the cost as zero or as full price for all sources, since free and/or reusable copies may have been available.

We will split the difference and assume that the research costs for each Evangelist would have been 50% of the single copy cost for whatever sources he had in front of him, or the following:

  • Matthew: 10.18 denars ($1,120)
  • Mark: 6.27 denars ($690)
  • Luke: 10.81 denars ($1,189)
  • Q: 3.24 denars ($356)

We can then convert these to research costs for various Synoptic hypotheses as follows:

 

Matthean Priority Hypotheses

  • Augustinian Hypothesis
    • Mark had Matthew: 10.18 denars ($1,120)
    • Luke had Matthew and Mark: 16.45 denars ($1,810)
  • Griesbach and Orchard Hypotheses
    • Luke had Matthew: 10.18 denars ($1,120)
    • Mark had Matthew and Luke: 20.99 denars ($2,309)

 

Markan Priority Hypotheses

  • Two-Document Hypothesis
    • Matthew had Mark and Q: 9.51 denars ($1,046)
    • Luke had Mark and Q: 9.51 denars ($1,046)
  • Farrer Hypothesis
    • Matthew had Mark: 6.27 denars ($690)
    • Luke had Matthew and Mark: 16.45 denars ($1,180)
  • Wilke Hypothesis
    • Luke had Mark: 6.27 denars ($690)
    • Matthew had Mark and Luke: 17.08 denars ($1,879)

 

The Drafting Stage

After the Evangelists had shouldered the research costs, they still needed to prepare an initial draft of their own Gospels. This also would have incurred costs.

In his book on Paul’s letters, Richards proposes that the initial drafts would have been written on reusable materials such as wax tablets or washable notebooks and that, because they were reusable, Paul would not have been charged for the materials on which his letters were drafted.

Such materials were used in the ancient world, and Richards was attempting to provide conservative cost estimates, but it is difficult to suppose that works the length of a Gospel would have been written on such materials, and that all of the Evangelists would have used them.

Still, to provide conservative estimates, we will assume that the Evangelists would have had to pay—on average—only half the supply costs of making an initial version of their works on papyrus. This would lead to the following costs:

  • Matthew: 7.02 denars ($772)
  • Mark: 4.32 denars ($475)
  • Luke: 7.45 denars ($820)

Similarly, an Evangelist could have saved costs by doing all of the scribal work himself—if he was literate, which is likely (illiterates did not author entire books). However, even major literary figures used paid scribes to help them with their drafting, and it is likely that at least some of the Evangelists did. To allow for this possibility, we will assume that they paid half of the ordinarily expected scribal costs, resulting in the following figures:

  • Matthew: 3.16 denars ($348)
  • Mark: 1.95 denars ($215)
  • Luke: 3.36 denars ($370)

Adding the halved supply and scribal costs together, we get the following as conservative estimates for drafting costs:

  • Matthew: 10.18 denars ($1,120)
  • Mark: 6.27 denars ($690)
  • Luke: 10.81 denars ($1,189)

 

The Revision Stage

Even after the Evangelists had an initial draft of their Gospels in hand, they would have polished them before releasing them to the world.

What would this have cost?

It is very easy to suppose that at this stage a copy of the Gospels would have been prepared on papyrus, rather than reusable materials like wax tablets or washable notebooks. I know that if I were writing, I would have wanted a “dress rehearsal” copy made on materials worthy of public release.

However, given the high cost of such materials, ancient authors—particularly cash-poor ones like the Evangelists—may have been willing to make do with reusable materials.

Similarly, they may have been willing to make do with their own—or with freely donated—scribal efforts in making a revision copy.

We will therefore assume that the cost of making a single revision would be equal to the cost of an initial draft, as follows:

  • Matthew: 10.18 denars ($1,120)
  • Mark: 6.27 denars ($690)
  • Luke: 10.81 denars ($1,189)

Of course, there is nothing to say that an Evangelist would have been happy with a single revision. He may have wanted two or more. On the other hand, even if he did want further changes after the initial revision, they may not have required the making of a whole new copy but merely periodic “spot edits” that did not substantially increase the overall revision costs.

While the revision costs could easily have been higher, in the interest of making conservative estimates, we will assume only the revision costs proposed above.

 

Drafting and Revision Costs

Between paying for an initial draft and a single revision—each of which we estimated at half the cost of a regular copy—we arrive at the following totals. Slight differences are due to rounding in the above numbers; the numbers that follow are the more precise:

  • Matthew: 20.35 denars ($2,238)
  • Mark: 12.54 denars ($1,379)
  • Luke: 21.61 denars ($2,377)

 

Total Pre-Production Costs

We can now add the costs of all the pre-final stages (research, drafting, and revision) to estimate what each Evangelist would have paid under each theory of Synoptic origins:

Matthean Priority Hypotheses

  • Augustinian Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 20.35 denars ($2,238)
    • Mark’s costs: 22.72 denars ($2,499)
    • Luke’s costs: 38.06 denars ($4,187)
  • Griesbach and Orchard Hypotheses
    • Matthew’s costs: 20.35 denars ($2,238)
    • Mark’s costs: 33.53 denars ($3,688)
    • Luke’s costs: 31.79 denars ($3,497)

 

Markan Priority Hypotheses

  • Two-Document Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 29.86 denars ($3,284)
    • Mark’s costs: 12.54 denars ($1,379)
    • Luke’s costs: 31.12 denars ($3,423)
  • Farrer Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 26.62 denars ($2,928)
    • Mark’s costs: 12.54 denars ($1,379)
    • Luke’s costs: 38.06 denars ($4,187)
  • Wilke Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 37.43 denars ($4,117)
    • Mark’s costs: 12.54 denars ($1,379)
    • Luke’s costs: 27.88 denars ($3,067)

 

The Launch Stage

The research, drafting, and revision phases would have brought an Evangelist to the point where he was ready to have final copies of his Gospel made, but how many would he need?

That would depend on his purposes.

According to the view that the Gospels circulated for a long time only in individual, widely-separated communities, the answer might be that he would need only one. Thus Matthew would need a single copy of his Gospel for his church, Mark would need one for his, and so on.

Despite its long acceptance in scholarly circles, this view is completely implausible. As Richard Bauckham and his co-authors demonstrate in their outstanding book The Gospels for All Christians, the first century churches were in constant communication, and the idea that the individual Gospels would have remained isolated in particular churches for any period is nonsense. Instead, their authors would have been writing for a general audience, not just one church.

Further, writing a Gospel was hard work and—as we’ve seen—it was very costly! Nobody would undertake this labor and expense just to have a single copy out there.

Authors are rewarded for their efforts by having their works circulated, and this was even more the case in the age before royalties, because seeing their works circulated was all the reward that they got! (Unless they were in the business of personally selling their works, which is unlikely in the case of the Evangelists.)

By investing the time and money to create a new book, an author was lighting a new literary lamp in the world, and as someone once said, men do not light a lamp and put it under a bushel but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. Authors thus wanted their light to shine before men and—in the case of the Evangelists—they wanted it to do so that men might see their good work and give glory to their Father in heaven.

This leads to a further consideration, which is that the Evangelists knew they were writing Scripture. Consequently, they would have viewed it as their obligation to share these new holy books with the broader Christian community.

It is therefore a given that the Evangelists would have foreseen a launch stage as part of their overall project. For this stage, a number of copies would have been made to provide their Gospels their initial distribution.

How many copies would that be?

 

Personal Copies

Whatever else they were, the Evangelists were authors, and authors keep copies of their books. You are not going to spend the time, effort, and money to write one and then not have your own copy. Each of the Evangelists thus would have planned on keeping one of the initial copies for himself.

If there was an individual patron underwriting the production of the Gospel—as was likely the case with Luke’s Theophilus—then the patron would be certain to have at least one copy for his own.

 

Local Congregational Copies

It’s also certain that a copy would have been made for the local congregation where the Evangelist was ministering at the time.

If there were multiple congregations in his current city then he could well have planned on a copy for each one of them, particularly if the funds of each congregation were being tapped to underwrite the project.

Even if local congregations weren’t underwriting the project as a whole, it is plausible that each local congregation would have wanted and/or expected a copy, and somebody would have needed to pay for them.

As the lengthy process of Gospel composition was underway, word would have spread among the congregations about what was in the works, and they may have volunteered to pay for their own copy, even if they didn’t feel in a position to contribute further funds to the project.

They thus might have raised funds from within their congregation and given them to the Evangelist when he was ready to have scribes set to work doing the initial run. Whether they paid for their own copies or someone else did, it is very possible that they would have had their copies made in the initial batch.

Even if their copies weren’t part of the initial batch, the Evangelist could foresee that each local congregation would likely want a copy in the very near future. He also would want them to have a copy, for the reasons discussed above, and he would take this into account when planning the scope of the project, regardless of who was paying.

How many local congregational copies would have been needed? This would depend on the size of the church in which he was ministering. If he was ministering in a large city with a sizable Christian population, as would be likely given the funding needed to underwrite a Gospel project, it could have a sizable number of congregations.

Do we have any indication what the number would be?

Mark’s Gospel is associated with Rome by patristic testimony, and the end of Acts suggests that this book, and Luke’s Gospel, was written in Rome c. A.D. 60. Fortunately, we have an indicator of the number of Roman congregations in the mid-first century.

At the end of his letter to the Romans, St. Paul has an extensive set of greetings (Rom. 16:3-15). Given the sensitivity of the letter, it is likely that Paul made this list of greetings as complete as he could.

It is also likely, since Paul had not yet visited Rome (Rom. 1:10), that he composed this list with the assistance of Tertius, who was his scribe for this letter (Rom. 16:22), who was likely a Roman Christian visiting Paul since—unlike in any other letter—the scribe greets the recipients and does so without further introducing himself, suggesting that they already knew him.

Analyzing Paul’s set of greetings for what they reveal about the structure of the Christian community in Rome c. A.D. 54 (when Romans was written), we find that it likely consisted of at least five plausible congregations:

  1. Prisca and Aquila and the church in their house (Rom. 16:3-5)
  2. Those who belong to the family of Aristobulus (Rom. 16:10).
  3. Those in the Lord who belong to the family of Narcissus (Rom. 16:11).
  4. Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas, “and the brethren who are with them” (Rom. 16:14).
  5. Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas, “and all the saints who are with them” (Rom. 16:15).

Paul also greets additional individuals who are not explicitly named as belonging to these groups. They may have been part of them or they may have belonged to additional congregations.

At this point, the clarity of our data fails us, but it is likely that at the time Mark and Luke were written, Rome contained at least five congregations, suggesting that each of these Gospel projects would have included at least five local congregational copies.

If a Gospel were penned in Jerusalem then the number of congregations could have been much higher, given the number of Christians that Luke suggests were living there; see Acts 2:41, 4:4. However, Luke also indicates that those numbers dwindled early on due to persecution (Acts 8:1), and even if they were rebuilt when the persecution ended, they would have taken another hit in the Jewish War of the A.D. 60s, when it is reported that the Christian community fled to Pella (Eusebius, Church History 3:5:3).

The only Gospel even possibly penned at Jerusalem would be Matthew, though the evidence for this is weak and conjectural, and the level of Gentile interest that Matthew displays may indicate an origin elsewhere.

However, given the early prominence of the Jerusalem church, it is one place that an Evangelist would be advised to have a copy of his new Gospel sent.

 

Strategic Copies

Any author wanting to give his Gospel a good launch would have wanted to send copies to the major Christian centers that would have been receptive to it, trusting that from there it would have been copied and distributed elsewhere.

This parallels the practice of modern authors and publishers sending review copies of a book to major reviewers and influencers in the literary community.

It is not to be expected that he would send a copy to each congregation in major Christian centers. That would have been too expensive. But it s likely that he would have sent at least one copy to such centers, and particularly to an influencer within that community who he knew about.

How many such communities were there?

Acts and the other books of the New Testament suggest at least the following:

  • Jerusalem
  • Antioch in Syria
  • Corinth
  • Ephesus
  • Rome

If each Evangelist was writing from one of these cities, we may suppose that he sent copies to at least the other four in order to give his work a proper launch.

 

Total Copies

What do we find if we add together the likely number of personal copies, local congregational copies, and strategic copies?

  • Personal copies would have totaled at least 1 or 2, depending on whether the Evangelist had a patron underwriting his project.
  • Local congregational copies could have been as low as 1 but were more likely around 5, given the size of the communities that the Evangelists were likely writing from.
  • Strategic copies would likely have been at least 4, excluding the major Christian center from which the Evangelist was writing.

Adding these figures together, we arrive at a total between 6 and 11 copies at a minimum.

For purposes of proceeding with a conservative number of copies, we will assume that each Evangelist envisioned at least 8 copies of his work ([6 + 11] / 2, rounding down) being made in its initial or near-initial run of copies.

 

Control Estimates

Do we have any other works that can provide us with controls on the estimated number of copies the Gospel authors would have wanted to make?

We do, and they are in the New Testament.

The Gospels—and, by extension, Acts—are what we are considering, but that still leaves us with other examples to consider.

They are not found in the letters of Paul. With the likely exception of Ephesians, Paul’s letters were not initially circulated to multiple communities.

Instead, for every letter except Ephesians, Paul likely had two final copies made—one of which he retained for his records and another that he had sent. One or the other of these then became the basis of his letter as it appeared in his collected letters in the New Testament.

Some of Paul’s letters are written to specific individuals (1 Tim. 1:2, 2 Tim. 1:2, Tit. 1:4, Philem. 1). Other New Testament letters are written to specific individuals (3 John 1) or specific congregations (2 John 1).

None of these likely had more than two initial copies made—one of which was the author’s archival copy and the other of which was sent.

Some New Testament letters are written to an unquantifiable audience (Heb. 1:1, cf. 13:23-24, Jas. 1:1, 2 Peter 1:1, 1 John 1:1, Jude 1).

If we exclude the above, that leaves us with two works that we can tell were initially sent to more than one community: 1 Peter and Revelation.

The introduction to 1 Peter reads:

Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, To the exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia (1 Peter 1:1).

The naming five destination locations suggests that this letter had at least six initial copies, counting one for Peter’s records.

Similarly, the book of Revelation is directed to be sent from John (Rev. 1:1, 4, 9, 22:8) to the Christian communities in seven Asian cities. We read that John heard:

Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches, to Ephesus and to Smyrna and to Pergamum and to Thyatira and to Sardis and to Philadelphia and to Laodicea (Rev. 1:11; cf. 1:4).

One authorial copy plus one copy for each of the churches in these cities totals eight copies.

Both 1 Peter and Revelation were substantially shorter than a Gospel. 1 Peter is 1,684 Greek words long (15% the length of Mark), while Revelation is 9,852 Greek words long (87% the length of Mark).

The shorter length of these two works would have made it easier to have multiple copies of them made, but the fact that Mark was a Gospel would have made it more important for copies of it to be made.

Consequently the fact that there were likely at least 6-8 of these works made serves to confirm the idea that an average of at least 8 copies of the Gospels were made in their initial (or near-initial) run of copies.

 

Final Costs

That being the case, even after the research, drafting, and revision stages of the Gospels were completed, the Evangelists likely would have expected another 8 final copies to be made, totaling the following costs:

  • Matthew: 162.80 denars ($17,904)
  • Mark: 100.32 denars ($11,032)
  • Luke: 172.88 denars ($19,016)

These figures represent the costs of the launch phase of the Gospels.

 

Total Gospel Project Costs

We are now in a position to determine what the overall project costs would have been to each Evangelist including all three pre-final phases (research, drafting, revision) and the launch phase. The numbers are as follows:

 

Matthean Priority Hypotheses

  • Augustinian Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 183.15 denars ($20,147)
    • Mark’s costs: 123.04 denars ($13,534)
    • Luke’s costs: 210.94 denars ($23,203)
  • Griesbach and Orchard Hypotheses
    • Matthew’s costs: 183.15 denars ($20,147)
    • Mark’s costs: 133.85 denars ($14,724)
    • Luke’s costs: 204.67 denars ($22,514)

 

Markan Priority Hypotheses

  • Two-Document Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 192.66 denars ($21,193)
    • Mark’s costs: 112.86 denars ($12,415)
    • Luke’s costs: 204.00 denars ($22,440)
  • Farrer Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 189.42 denars ($20,836)
    • Mark’s costs: 112.86 denars ($12,415)
    • Luke’s costs: 210.94 denars ($23,203)
  • Wilke Hypothesis
    • Matthew’s costs: 200.23 denars ($22,025)
    • Mark’s costs: 112.86 denars ($12,415)
    • Luke’s costs: 200.76 denars ($22,084)

 

As discussed above, these numbers are conservative. In all likelihood, the costs were higher.

Also, these do not include postal costs for the strategic copies of the Gospels. Personal copies and local congregational copies would likely have no such costs, but sending the strategic copies across the Empire could. This is not necessarily the case, though, as the major Christian centers were in regular communication with each other, and the strategic copies might have been sent with trusted travellers already headed to the key destinations. In the interests of conservatism, therefore, we will assume that the strategic copies were mailed for free.

This leads us to another major question . . .

 

Would It Be Worth It?

Each Evangelist thought that his Gospel had something important to offer the Christian world; otherwise, he would not have bothered writing and publishing it.

The value he saw in his Gospel made him willing to undertake the time, effort, and cost of producing it. (Unless we assume he was an egomaniac who just wanted to have a Gospel attributed to his name. However, this is unlikely. If building his name was a major concern for an Evangelist, he would have put his name in his work, and none of the Evangelists did.)

This means that we have a new way of testing Synoptic hypotheses: We can examine the relationship between the value that an Evangelist would have seen his work as having and the costs he would have shouldered (personally or through fundraising) in producing it.

For the first Synoptic Evangelist to write, the value in producing a Gospel would be obvious: Reducing the basic story of Jesus’s life and teachings to writing. But for the subsequent Evangelists, this task had already been done. The value that the subsequent Evangelists would have seen in producing new Gospels thus would be something else.

The value they would have seen in their Gospels would have been in what they did that was new—i.e., what the first Evangelist (or the previous Evangelists) had not done. Each later Evangelist would have had certain goals he wanted his Gospel to achieve which previous ones had not achieved. Such goals might include:

  • Rewriting existing material in a better style
  • Organizing the material in a new way
  • Including new material not previously written in a Gospel

It would be difficult to quantify the first two of these goals, but the third is easily quantifiable. Depending on which Synoptic hypothesis is being proposed, it is a straightforward matter to calculate the amount of material that would have been original in each Gospel.

A. N. Honoré provides the following breakdown of the number of Greek words in the Synoptic Gospels that belong to particular traditions:

Tradition Matthew Mark Luke
Triple 8,336 8,630 7,884
Matthew & Mark 1,764 2,034
Matthew & Luke 4,461 4,476
Mark & Luke 357 274
Single 3,704 307 6,726
Total 18,265 11,328 19,360

(Source: “A Statistical Study of the Synoptic Problem,” Novum Testamentum, 10 [Apr.-Jul., 1968], 96.)

We can convert this information for our purposes as follows, listing the total number of words in a Gospel, the number that would have been derived from the Gospels the Evangelist purportedly drew upon (counting Q as a hypothetical Gospel), and the number of words that would have been original to his Gospel:

 

Matthean Priority Hypotheses

  • Augustinian Hypothesis
    • Matthew:
      • Total words: 18,265
      • Derived words: 0
      • Original words: 18,265
    • Mark:
      • Total words: 11,328
      • Derived words: 10,664 (from Matthew)
      • Original words: 664
    • Luke:
      • Total words: 19,360
      • Derived words: 12,634 (7,884 from Matthew and/or Mark; 4,476 from Matthew; 274 from Mark)
      • Original words: 6,726
    • Griesbach and Orchard Hypotheses
      • Matthew:
        • Total words: 18,265
        • Derived words: 0
        • Original words: 18,265
      • Mark:
        • Total words: 11,328
        • Derived words: 11,021 (8,630 from Matthew and/or Luke; 2,034 from Matthew; 357 from Luke)
        • Original words: 307
      • Luke:
        • Total words: 19,360
        • Derived words: 12,360 (from Matthew)
        • Original words: 7,000

 

Markan Priority Hypotheses

  • Two-Document Hypothesis
    • Matthew:
      • Total words: 18,265
      • Derived words: 14,561 (10,100 from Mark; 4,461 from Q)
      • Original words: 3,704
    • Mark:
      • Total words: 11,328
      • Derived words: 0
      • Original words: 11,328
    • Luke:
      • Total words: 19,360
      • Derived words: 12,634 (8,158 from Mark; 4,476 from Q)
      • Original words: 6,726
    • Farrer Hypothesis
      • Matthew:
        • Total words: 18,265
        • Derived words: 10,100 (from Mark)
        • Original words: 8,165
      • Mark:
        • Total words: 11,328
        • Derived words: 0
        • Original words: 11,328
      • Luke:
        • Total words: 19,360
        • Derived words: 12,634 (7,884 from Matthew and/or Mark; 4,476 from Matthew, 274 from Mark)
        • Original words: 6,726
      • Wilke Hypothesis
        • Matthew:
          • Total words: 18,265
          • Derived words: 14,561 (8,335 from Mark and/or Luke; 1,764 from Mark; 4,461 from Luke)
          • Original words: 3,704
        • Mark:
          • Total words: 11,328
          • Derived words: 0
          • Original words: 11,328
        • Luke:
          • Total words: 19,360
          • Derived words: 12,634 (from Mark)
          • Original words: 6,726

 

The Cost of Originality

Using these theories of Synoptic origins, we can now take the costs of producing the Gospels and divide them by the number of original words they contain. This will give us a measure of the costs that he would have been willing to bear to get that new material in Gospel form.

This measure is only useful to the extent that providing the new material was one of the Evangelist’s goals. It is to be immediately pointed out that getting new material into Gospel form was not the Evangelists’ only goal, but doing the calculation will shed useful light on the question of Synoptic origins, as we will see.

Taking the costs associated with each Gospel and dividing by the number of original words in it, we get the following results:

 

Matthean Priority Hypotheses

  • Augustinian Hypothesis
    • Matthew:
      • Matthew’s costs: 183.15 denars ($20,147)
      • Original words: 18,265
      • Cost per word: 0.01 denars ($1.10)
    • Mark:
      • Mark’s costs: 123.04 denars ($13,534)
      • Original words: 664
      • Cost per word: 0.19 denars ($20.38)
    • Luke:
      • Luke’s costs: 210.94 denars ($23,203)
      • Original words: 6,726
      • Cost per word: 0.03 denars ($3.45)
    • Griesbach and Orchard Hypotheses
      • Matthew:
        • Matthew’s costs: 183.15 denars ($20,147)
        • Original words: 18,265
        • Cost per word: 0.01 denars ($1.10)
      • Mark:
        • Mark’s costs: 133.85 denars ($14,724)
        • Original words: 307
        • Cost per word: 0.44 denars ($47.96)
      • Luke:
        • Luke’s costs: 204.67 denars ($22,514)
        • Original words: 7,000
        • Cost per word: 0.03 denars ($3.22)

 

Markan Priority Hypotheses

  • Two-Document Hypothesis
    • Matthew:
      • Matthew’s costs: 192.66 denars ($21,193)
      • Original words: 3,704
      • Cost per word: 0.05 denars ($5.72)
    • Mark:
      • Mark’s costs: 112.86 denars ($12,415)
      • Original words: 11,328
      • Cost per word: 0.01 denars ($1.10)
    • Luke:
      • Luke’s costs: 204.00 denars ($22,440)
      • Original words: 6,726
      • Cost per word: 0.03 denars ($3.34)
    • Farrer Hypothesis
      • Matthew:
        • Matthew’s costs: 189.42 denars ($20,836)
        • Original words: 8,165
        • Cost per word: 0.02 denars ($2.55)
      • Mark:
        • Mark’s costs: 112.86 denars ($12,415)
        • Original words: 11,328
        • Cost per word: 0.01 denars ($1.10)
      • Luke:
        • Luke’s costs: 210.94 denars ($23,203)
        • Original words: 6,726
        • Cost per word: 0.03 denars ($3.45)
      • Wilke Hypothesis
        • Matthew:
          • Matthew’s costs: 200.23 denars ($22,025)
          • Original words: 3,704
          • Cost per word: 0.06 denars ($5.95)
        • Mark:
          • Mark’s costs: 112.86 denars ($12,415)
          • Original words: 11,328
          • Cost per word: 0.01 denars ($1.10)
        • Luke:
          • Luke’s costs: 200.76 denars ($22,084)
          • Original words: 6,726
          • Cost per word: 0.03 denars ($3.28)

 

This information might be more conveniently summarized as follows, listing only the dollar-per-word estimate and putting the Gospels in the proposed order of composition:

 

Matthean Priority Hypotheses

  • Augustinian Hypothesis
    • Matthew: $1.10
    • Mark: $20.38
    • Luke: $3.45
  • Griesbach and Orchard Hypotheses
    • Matthew: $1.10
    • Luke: $3.22
    • Mark: $47.96

 

Markan Priority Hypotheses

  • Two-Document Hypothesis
    • Mark: $1.10
    • Matthew: $5.72 / Luke: $3.34
  • Farrer Hypothesis
    • Mark: $1.10
    • Matthew: $2.55
    • Luke: $3.45
  • Wilke Hypothesis
    • Mark: $1.10
    • Luke: $3.28
    • Matthew: $5.95

 

Observations

An Overall Pattern

An obvious pattern that emerges is that the first Evangelist to write got the most “bang for his buck,” paying the equivalent of a little more than $1 for each original word he wrote.

This is what you would expect. For the first Evangelist to set pen to papyrus, all of his words would have been in Gospel form for the first time, and so his cost per original word would be lowest. The later Evangelists following the Synoptic format would have higher per-original-word costs since fewer of their words would be original.

According to most of the hypotheses, the cost then rose for the second Evangelist, and then rose again for the third.

This pattern is probable but not guaranteed. The second Evangelist to write could have used a high ratio of his predecessor’s work and included little new material, making his per-original-word cost higher than the third Evangelist to write. Thus the Augustinian hypothesis is an exception, whereby Mark’s costs are higher than Luke’s, even though Mark would be the second Evangelist to write on this view. (The Two-Document hypothesis is also something of an exception since it proposes that Matthew and Luke were written independently and either could have come before the other).

Still, the pattern of rising costs with each new Synoptic Evangelist is what you would expect if their authors were trying to achieve these goals:

  1. use the Synoptic format (i.e., the same general approach to telling the story of Jesus),
  2. incorporate material from their predecessor(s),
  3. introduce new material, and
  4. keep their Gospels to a certain general length.

To use the Synoptic format (goal 1), an Evangelist would have had to include a substantial amount of material or he would be telling the story of Jesus in a substantially different and non-Synoptic way. If he also kept his Gospel at a certain length (goal 4) then the major free play would have been between goals 2 and 3.

Thus, the more an Evangelist wanted to incorporate material from his predecessors (goal 2), the less room he would have had to incorporate new material (goal 3). As the number of predecessors increased, the less space there would have been for new material without violating one of the four goals.

Thus, as the number of Synoptic Gospels increased, the cost-per-original-word ratio would have tended to increase, as in most of the hypotheses above.

 

Beyond the Synoptic Gospels

The increasing cost of having something original to say in a Synoptic Gospel is likely part of why we have only three such Gospels. If someone contemplated writing a fourth Gospel in this format, he would have been confronted by the limitations of what can be done with this format.

Matthew, Mark, and Luke had already explored what could be done with different approaches to style and organization of material. They had also put a great deal of Jesus tradition into Gospel form.

What would a person with additional Jesus tradition have seen his options as being?

It would depend on how many traditions he had. As the first century wore on, fewer and fewer eyewitnesses were around, and though many had passed on some of what they knew to others, this was not going to be kept in living memory forever, and many of the higher value traditions were already in the Synoptic Gospels. The march of time meant that fewer original traditions would be available with each passing decade.

If a prospective Evangelist had only a few Jesus traditions, they might not be of sufficient value to undertake writing a whole new Gospel, given the costs. While we today would love to have any additional Jesus tradition, a first century tradent could decide that it wasn’t worth writing a whole new Gospel just to have a few additional stories of healings or an extra few sayings in Gospel form.

He might conclude this even if he had a few more valuable Jesus traditions. After all, the world might be ending soon, the Jesus traditions were already out there orally, our prospective Evangelist could himself repeat them orally, and if he wrote a new Synoptic Gospel that was basically a remix of Matthew, Mark, and Luke with a few extra traditions thrown in then he could be accused of too closely aping previous authors and wasting everybody’s time. Besides, writing a new Gospel was very expensive, and it just wouldn’t be worth it for getting a few extra traditions in Gospel form.

If he was really determined to put his traditions in writing, a person in this situation might write something much shorter than a Gospel. If anyone did that, though, it hasn’t survived—presumably because a small collection of Jesus traditions wasn’t seen as valuable enough to be regularly copied and thus preserved.

On the other hand, if a person had a large number of Jesus traditions that he considered worth preserving in a Gospel, he might write a very long Gospel—perhaps a multi-volume one—but that would put it out of the price range of all but the rich, and it would serve the Christian community better to make the work shorter and thus more affordable.

The obvious alternative would be to write a Gospel that did not incorporate large amounts of material from the Synoptic Gospels—to make a different kind of Gospel. This is what John did. Indeed, his Gospel appears to be a deliberate attempt to supplement the Synoptics tradition, and particularly Mark, without copying the Synoptic format (see Richard Bauckham, “John for Readers of Mark” in The Gospels for All Christians).

Many later efforts, such as the Gospel of Thomas and various Gnostic Gospels, did the same thing—apparently concluding that the basic story of Jesus had already been adequately told by the canonical Gospels, including the Synoptics.

Some groups apparently produced edited versions of one of the Synoptics (Marcion did so with Luke, and there were apparently edited versions of Matthew in use among some Jewish Christians). However, the creation of these Gospels seems to have been driven by sectarian concerns, and they were not accepted by the broader Christian community, which seems to have thought that the possibilities of the Synoptic tradition had been sufficiently explored and that producing new, slightly different Gospels on this model wasn’t sufficiently valuable given those that already existed.

This leads us to a consideration of the individual Synoptic hypotheses proposed above.

 

Matthean vs. Markan Priority

The most basic division is between the hypotheses that propose Matthean priority and those that propose Markan priority.

Here we notice two distinctly different patterns in the cost-per-original-word ratio:

  • Under the assumption of Markan priority, the costs rise for each additional Evangelist, but they stay within an order of magnitude, with the final Evangelist’s ratio being a little more than five times that of the first Evangelist’s.
  • Under Matthean priority, however, the ratio for Mark is vastly higher than either of the other Synoptics. This holds whether Mark is viewed as the second Gospel written (the Augustinian hypothesis) or the third (the Griesbach and Orchard hypotheses). On the former, the Markan cost-to-original-word ratio is almost 20 times that of Matthew, and on the latter it is more than 40 times!

This leads to an important argument against Matthean priority, and it gives numerical expression to an intuition that many have had: Mark’s Gospel would not have been viewed as worth producing if Matthew (or Matthew and Luke) had already existed.

On the Augustinian hypothesis, Mark would contain only 664 words not derived from Matthew—equaling 5.8% of its length. On the Griesbach and Orchard hypotheses, it would contain a mere 307 words not taken from Matthew or Luke—equaling 2.7% of its length.

It is impossible to see how Mark could have viewed these words as so important that they would justify the costs associated with writing his Gospel (the equivalent of $13,524 on the Augustinian hypothesis and $14,724 on the Griesbach and Orchard hypotheses). Indeed, these words include only lesser value traditions.

Therefore, if Mark used Matthew, he would have had to have some other powerful reason to write his Gospel. Yet what this would be isn’t clear. Mark does not dramatically improve on Matthew’s style (Matthew’s style is better). Mark does not arrange the Jesus traditions in a markedly better way (again, Matthew’s arrangement is better). And the extra material Mark adds to Matthew is small and of lesser significance.

There appears to be no adequate reason for Mark to write—and pay the costs associated with his Gospel—if Matthew (or Matthew and Luke) already existed.

Further, unless Mark was independently wealthy (which we do not have evidence for), he would have needed to convince his backer(s) that he had enough that was new and worth saying to justify the costs of producing his Gospel. Yet what he could have argued in making his pitch is far from obvious.

We thus have a strong argument against Matthean priority. The existence of Mark is easier to explain if Mark wrote first and Matthew and Luke expanded it.

The survival of Mark is also easier to explain. Given the high single-copy costs of the Gospels, it is hard to see why people would pay for copies of Mark if Matthew (or Matthew and Luke) already existed. Without copies being paid for, though, Mark would not have survived.

But if Mark was the first Gospel written and had already established itself by the time Matthew and Luke appeared—including establishing a reputation as being Scripture—then it is easier to see why people would be willing to pay for copies and thus why it survived.

Even so, it would be less popular than Matthew and Luke, and so they would overtake it in the number of copies produced. This is what the number of surviving early manuscripts indicates (see Larry W. Hurtado, The Earliest Christian Artifacts, ch. 1). But its survival is more understandable if it was already viewed as Scripture before Matthew and Luke were penned.
The Markan Priority Hypotheses

Although our cost analysis gives us a strong argument against Matthean priority, it does not allow us to so easily distinguish among the Markan priority hypotheses.

The Farrer hypothesis has the lowest cost-to-original-word ratios ($1.10 for Mark, $2.55 for Matthew, and $3.45 for Luke). Both the Two-Document hypothesis and the Wilke hypothesis keep Luke in the $3 range ($3.34 and $3.23, respectively), but both put Matthew near $6 ($5.72 and $5.95, respectively).

This, however, is not a decisive difference. On the Two-Document hypothesis, Matthew wrote without knowing about Luke and thus could not have judged the worth of his Gospel—and the costs of undertaking it—in light of the existence of Luke.

On the Wilke hypothesis, Matthew used Luke but easily could have judged the costs he was shouldering to be worth it, given the other goals he had for his Gospel, which included an organizational scheme that many have preferred to Luke’s and focusing on themes that Luke does not emphasize (such as the regal dimension of Jesus’ Messiahship, Joseph’s role in in Christ’s early life, and a general orientation to Jewish Christians rather than Gentile ones).

An analysis of the costs of producing the Gospels thus can shed light on the Synoptic Problem but does not resolve all its aspects.

 

Bart Ehrman Botches a Source

ehrmanBart Ehrman is a smart guy, but he sometimes handles his sources in the most frustrating and misleading manner.

For example, in his book Did Jesus Exist? (where he is on the right side for once), he writes:

Several significant studies of literacy have appeared in recent years showing just how low literacy rates were in antiquity.

The most frequently cited study is by Columbia professor William Harris in a book titled Ancient Literacy (footnote 6).

By thoroughly examining all the surviving evidence, Harris draws the compelling though surprising conclusion that in the very best of times in the ancient world, only about 10 percent of the population could read at all and possibly copy out writing on a page.

Far fewer than this, of course, could compose a sentence, let alone a story, let alone an entire book.

And who were the people in this 10 percent?

They were the upper-class elite who had the time, money, and leisure to afford an education.

This is not an apt description of Jesus’s disciples. They were not upper-crust aristocrats.

In Roman Palestine the situation was even bleaker.

The most thorough examination of literacy in Palestine is by a professor of Jewish studies at the University of London, Catherine Hezser, who shows that in the days of Jesus probably only 3 percent of Jews in Palestine were literate (footnote 7).

Once again, these would be the people who could read and maybe write their names and copy words. Far fewer could compose sentences, paragraphs, chapters, and books.

And once again, these would have been the urban elites (Did Jesus Exist?: The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth, 47-48).

The issue here is not the level of literacy in the ancient world or in Roman Palestine—it was, from the evidence we have, startlingly low.

The issue is the claim he makes about  Catherine Hezser.

It’s true that she published a very thorough examination of literacy in Palestine (i.e., her book Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine).

But did she “show[] that in the days of Jesus probably only 3 percent of Jews in Palestine were literate,” where literacy is defined as the very limited ability to “read and maybe write their names and copy words”?

It would be nice to look up what Hezser said on the matter, but when you look at Ehrman’s footnote, all you find is this:

7. Catherine Hezser, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001).

No page number. No chapter number. Just a gesture at the whole book.

Okay, well, if you look in Hezser’s book, there is a chapter called “Degrees and Distribution of Literacy,” which is also the very last chapter in the book.

That’s exactly the kind of chapter that would present her final conclusions regarding the degree of literacy among Jews in Roman Palestine.

And, indeed, when we turn to the beginning of that chapter, we find Hezser writing:

Although the exact literacy rate amongst ancient Jews cannot be determined, Meir Bar-Ilan’s suggestion that the Jewish literacy rate must have been lower than the literacy rate amongst Romans in the first centuries C.E. seems very plausible.

Whether the average literacy rate amongst Palestinian Jews was only 3 percent, as Bar-Ilan has reckoned,(footnote 1) or slightly higher, must ultimately remain open.

The question naturally depends on what one understands by “literacy.” If “literacy is determined as the ability to read documents, letters and “simple” literary texts in at least one language and to write more than one’s signature itself, it is quite reasonable to assume that the Jewish literacy rate was well below the 10-15 percent (of the entire population, including women) which Harris has estimated for Roman society in imperial times.(footnote 2)

If by “literacy” we mean the ability to read a few words and sentences and to write one’s own signature only, Jews probably came closer to the Roman average rate.

Whereas exact numbers can neither be verified nor falsified and are therefore of little historical value, for the following reasons the average Jewish literacy rate (of whatever degree) must be considered to have been lower than the average Roman rate (Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, 496).

Gah!

You see the multiple ways Ehrman has misrepresented Hezser:

  • Whereas Ehrman said she “shows that in the days of Jesus probably only 3 percent of Jews in Palestine were literate,” but what she actually says is that “the exact literacy rate amongst ancient Jews cannot be determined,” that the question “must ultimately remain open,” and that “exact numbers can neither be verified nor falsified and are therefore of little historical value”!
  • Ehrman presents the 3 percent figure as representing Hezser’s own findings (she “shows” it as a result of her study), but she indicates that the figure isn’t hers and that she got the figure from Meir Bar-Ilan.
  • Her own conclusion is that the figure might be 3 percent “or slightly higher” but is unknowable.
  • Finally, whereas Ehrman said the 3 percent figure represented only limited literacy—the ability to read and write your name and maybe copy words—Hezser indicates that the 3 percent represented a broader form of literacy, with “the ability to read documents, letters and ‘simple’ literary texts.”
  • By contrast, Hezser says that if only low-level literacy is meant (“the ability to read a few words and sentences and to write one’s own signature only”) then—contra Ehrman—the number was higher and “Jews probably came closer to the Roman average rate” of 10-15 percent!

So Ehrman has completely botched this source and misrepresented what Hezser said.

Why?

Presumably because at some point in the past he encountered the 3 percent reference in her book and it stuck in his mind. That’s about all he remembered, though.

When it came time to write his own book, he didn’t look up the reference in Hezser (thus explaining the absence of a page number) and mentally reconstructed what he thought she had said.

If he was being more careful, Ehrman would have looked up what Hezser wrote and either represented her accurately and/or (even better) looked up Bar-Ilan’s paper and gone directly to the source of the estimate.

I don’t want to be too hard on Ehrman, because anybody can botch a source (and everybody does from time to time—and precisely because of fuzzy memories), but this is not the only time I’ve found Ehrman misrepresenting verifiable facts—something we may look at further in future posts.

By the way, Hezser does give a specific citation to Bar-Ilan’s estimate of ancient Jewish literacy.

His paper is online here if you care to read it.

How the New Testament Authors Said Mass and Prayed

twelve apostlesToday we have standardized versions of the words of institution at Mass and of the Lord’s Prayer.

At least within a given language group and rite of the Church, you’ll find priests saying the words of institution and the faithful saying the Lord’s Prayer the same way.

But in the first century, things were not fully standardized.

Originally, the Christian community passed on the Jesus traditions orally, and this oral transmission gave rise to slightly different wordings that are preserved by the New Testament authors.

An interesting result is that we can tell something both about how the New Testament authors said Mass and prayed.

 

How First Century Christians Said Mass

The New Testament gives us four accounts of the words of institution at Mass. They are found in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and 1 Corinthians.

Here is Matthew’s account, with the words he has in common with Mark bolded:

Take, eat; this is my body. . . .
Drink of it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins (Matt. 26:26-28).

And here is Mark’s account, with the words he has in common with Matthew bolded.

Take; this is my body. . . .
This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many (Mark 14:22-24).

You can see how similar they are. Matthew has a few additional words of explanation, which is typical of how his Gospel works. Mark’s is more terse, leaving more for the reader to infer.

Now here’s Luke’s version, with the elements he has in common with Matthew and Mark bolded. I’ve also put certain elements in red, for reasons we’ll see in a moment.

This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me. . . .
This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood (Luke 22:19-20).

Already you can see how different Luke’s version is. The red elements aren’t in Matthew or Luke.

But they are in Paul.

Here’s Paul’s account of the words of institution, with the words he has in common with Matthew and Mark bolded and the words he has in common with Luke in red:

This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me. . . .
This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me (1 Cor. 11:24-25).

You can see how similar Paul’s version is to Luke’s. It has an additional sentence at the end, which parallels the words regarding the body to those of the blood, but it is much closer to Luke’s version than to Matthew and Mark’s.

 

What This Means

What this means is that there were at least two significant streams of tradition regarding the words of institution in the first century—one represented by Matthew and Mark and one represented by Luke and Paul.

There may have been others also, but they did not find a place in the New Testament.

We can also infer something about why these two streams of traditions are represented in the New Testament books they are.

It is almost universally agreed that there is a literary relationship between Matthew and Mark. Either Matthew copied from Mark or Mark copied from Matthew. So the account of one Evangelist could have influenced the text of the other.

But this isn’t the whole of it.

If, as our earliest information indicates, Mark was based on the preaching of Peter, then Mark’s version of the words likely stems from that source: It was how Peter said Mass.

This, as well as the concision of Mark’s account, means it is likely a very early and original version of the tradition.

It’s also probably how Mark himself said Mass (Mark being the first bishop of Alexandria).

Matthew—also an eyewitness of the Last Supper—has a similar but somewhat clarified version of the tradition, and it is likely how Matthew himself said Mass.

Even if Matthew used Mark, when he came to this passage he likely used his own experience in saying Mass when writing this passage.

What about Luke’s version?

We do not have a strong tradition of Luke being a bishop or a priest (note Jerome’s failure to mention him being either of these in his Lives of Illustrious Men, ch. 7).

As a result, Luke may not have been drawing on his experience of saying Mass but on his experience of hearing it, and we know one person who he would have regularly heard saying Mass: St. Paul.

Luke was a regular travelling companion of Paul, as indicated by the “we” passages in Acts (i.e., the passages in which the narration shifts from describing Paul’s travels in the third person to describing where “we” went—indicating the author’s presence at the events).

These passages indicate that Luke was with Paul for long periods of time, and he would have heard Paul say Mass frequently.

Further, both the Gospel of Luke and the Book of Acts were addressed to a particular man, who Luke refers to as Theophilus (Luke 1:3, Acts 1:1), though this may have been a codename to protect his identity (the name means “God-lover” in Greek).

Since Acts abruptly stops in A.D. 60, when Paul is awaiting trial before the Emperor Nero in Rome, it is likely that this is where and when Acts was written. Theophilus was likely an influential Roman Christian, and he may have even been the patron who subsidized the writing of these two works.

Given the interest that Acts takes in Paul, who becomes the dominant figure in Acts (after Peter played this role in the book’s early chapters), Theophilus was likely quite interested in Paul.

Acts—and even the Gospel of Luke—may have been prepared with an eye toward explaining to Theophilus how the Christian movement began and how Paul came to be awaiting trial in Rome.

This means that Theophilus likely knew Paul and had frequently heard him say Mass.

Whether because Luke had often heard Paul say Mass or because Theophilus had (or both), it would be natural for Luke, when coming to the account of the Last Supper, to use a version of the words of institution that Paul often employed.

Luke certainly either had Mark or Matthew in front of him (or both, as other passages in his Gospel show), but he didn’t use the tradition for the words of institution found in those Gospels. Instead, he used the same stream of tradition represented in 1 Corinthians.

We thus could infer from 1 Corinthians itself that this was how Paul usually said Mass, but the evidence of Luke’s use of the same tradition confirms it.

This has implications for something else . . .

 

How First Century Christians Prayed

Christians in every age have had many free-form, spontaneous prayers, but they also have pre-formed prayers—most notably the “Our Father” or Lord’s Prayer, which is represented in two of the Gospels: Matthew and Luke.

Here is Matthew’s version, with the words he has in common with Luke bolded and with words omitted from Luke in red:

Our Father who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors;
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil (Matt. 6:9-13).

Here is Luke’s version, with the words he has in common with Matthew bolded:

Father,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread;
And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive every one who is indebted to us;
And lead us not into temptation (Luke 11:2-4)

As you can see, both versions are similar, but Matthew’s has an additional petition (“Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”) and various clarifying elements (“Our,” “who art in heaven,” and “but deliver us from evil”). The two versions also have a paraphrased element regarding our sins/debts and how we forgive those indebted to us.

Since such clarifications are typical of Matthew’s Gospel, it may be that Luke’s version represents an earlier form of the tradition regarding this prayer.

However, even if it doesn’t, it likely represents something else: How Paul prayed.

Just like the words of institution represented a Jesus tradition that was memorized and frequently repeated in the life of the early Church, so does the Lord’s Prayer.

Indeed, the first was regularly repeated only by priests, while the latter was regularly repeated by all the faithful.

If Luke used what he heard from Paul’s lips at Mass when writing his Gospel, it’s very likely he did the same for the Lord’s Prayer as well.

This would not only have been how he (and Theophilus) heard the Lord’s Prayer from Paul but also how they said it themselves.

The Resurrection Narratives and Q

Easter is the most important day of the Christian calendar, even more important than Christmas. Here are 9 things you need to know.

According to many scholars, Matthew and Luke based their Gospels principally on two sources: Mark and a now-lost source dubbed “Q.”

The reason for the latter is that Matthew and Luke contain about 235 verses that are not paralleled in Mark. This amounts to about a fifth of each of their Gospels, which is too much for the 235 verses to be due to random chance.

This means the material could have been picked up in one of three ways: (1) Matthew got it from Luke, (2) Luke got it from Matthew, or (3) they both got it from a lost source.

Many scholars dismiss the first two options without serious thought, but sometimes the following argument is used to support the third option: If Matthew knew Luke or vice-versa, we would expect him to include material from the other Gospel that he doesn’t contain. This argument is made particularly concerning material found in the Infancy and Resurrection Narratives.

We’ve already looked at the argument based on the Infancy Narratives (here), and now we will look at the argument based on the Resurrection Narratives.

To do this, we first need to look at the contents of the two narratives.

(NOTE: See here for other parts of my exploration of the Synoptic Problem.)

 

Matthew’s Resurrection Narrative

Beginning just after the point where Jesus is buried, the material in Matthew’s Resurrection Narrative may be divided (with an eye toward how it differs from Luke’s narrative) like this:

a)    Securing the Tomb (27:62-66)

b)   The Women Visit the Tomb (28:1-7)

c)    The Women Leave to Tell the Disciples (28:8)

d)   The Women Encounter Jesus (28:9-10)

e)    The Report of the Guards (28:11-15)

f)     The Disciples Encounter Jesus in Galilee (28:16-17)

g)    Jesus’ Final Instructions (28:18-20)

This material amounts to a total of 25 verses.

 

Luke’s Resurrection Narrative

Beginning just after the point where Jesus is buried, the material in Luke’s Resurrection Narrative may be divided (with an eye toward how it differs from Matthew’s narrative) like this:

a)    The Women Visit the Tomb (24:1-8)

b)   The Women Leave to Tell the Disciples (28:9-11)

c)    Peter Visits the Tomb (24:12)

d)   Encounter on the Road to Emmaus (24:13-35)

e)    Jesus Appears to the Eleven (24:36-49)

f)     The Ascension (24:50-53).

This material amounts to a total of 53 verses.

 

Evaluating the Alternatives

To see whether the Resurrection Narratives provide evidence that Matthew and Luke did not know each other’s Gospels, we need to look at both alternative hypotheses—that Luke knew Matthew and that Matthew knew Luke. We will cover both in the sections below.

First, though, we need to make a point that was explored at more length in the paper on the Infancy Narratives (here), which is that on either alternative, the Evangelist in question was expanding Mark with only select bits of the other Synoptic.

On the hypothesis that Mark wrote first, to put the matter concisely, Matthew used about 90% of the verses in Mark, while Luke used 55% of it. This means that Matthew had a strong preference for using material from Mark, while Luke had only a weak preference for it.

The key question, for our purposes, is what Matthew and Luke would have done with each other’s Gospels.

If Luke used Matthew then he included about 235 verses from it, which amounts to 20% of all of Matthew or 50% of Matthew if you ignore the parts of it that came from Mark.

If Matthew used Luke then, again, he included about 235 verses from it, which amounts to 20% of all of Luke or 30% of Luke if you ignore the parts of it that came from Mark.

In either case, one Evangelist was cherry-picking the other—selecting only those bits he thought would be of particular value for his audience. Neither had a default decision in favor of including a particular verse from the other. If Luke was using Matthew, it was a 50-50 tossup whether he would include a given verse unique to Matthew, and if Matthew was using Luke then the odds were 70% that he would skip a particular verse unique to Luke.

This is important because it reveals something about how we should evaluate the way one Evangelist would have used material found in the Resurrection Narrative of the other: Mathematically speaking, the burden of proof is not on a person to show why either Evangelist chose to skip material he would have seen in the other’s Gospel. (Indeed, in the case of Matthew, there would be a mathematical burden to show why he would include material found in Luke’s Resurrection Narrative.)

This does not mean there can’t be particular pieces of content that an Evangelist would have found so compelling that he should have used them if he was aware of them. But we need to argue why such content would have been so compelling to the Evangelist, not just assume that it would have been, given the numbers.

 

If Luke Used Matthew

Considering the case that Luke might have used Matthew, Robert H. Stein, who writes:

Why would he [Luke] have omitted . . . the story of the guards at the tomb (Matt. 27:62-66) and their report (Matt. 28:11-15); the unique Matthean material concerning the resurrection (Matt. 28:9-10, 16-20); and so on? (The Synoptic Problem, 102).

How much weight does Stein’s argument have?

It is worth noting that he only poses it as a series of bare questions about why Luke wouldn’t have included certain things from Matthew. He doesn’t provide any arguments why Luke should have included these things.

As a result, his argument does not have a great deal of force. It would have force if Luke had a strong default decision in favor of including material from Matthew, but we have seen that he did not. It was tossup in any particular case.

So let’s look at the seven pericopes (designated a-g) that Luke would have had before him if he was selecting material from Matthew. Given the material they contained, are there particular reasons Luke would have wanted to use them?

 

The Guards

Two of the pericopes—(a) and (e)—are a matched set. They deal with the guards that were set over the tomb and what they had to say when it was found empty. Including one without the other would have made no sense, so Luke would have been in an “in for a penny, in for a pound” situation.

He thus would have needed to include material based on Matthew 27:62-66 and 28:11-15. Luke would also have needed to include an additional verse (Matt. 28:4), which deals with the guards fainting, even though it is in the midst of pericope (b). That’s a total of 11 verses.

Would this material have been particularly interesting to Luke?

It does have some interest. For one who has confidence in the Gospel material, it closes off an alternative explanation to the resurrection (i.e., that the body was stolen). Matthew indicates that this alternative explanation had some currency in the Jewish community (Matt. 28:15).

However, Luke was not writing for a member of the Jewish community (given the strong Gentile interest of his Gospel and the Greek name or title Theophilus for the man of whom he was principally writing and who was possibly the patron funding the writing of the Gospel; cf. Luke 1:3, Acts 1:1).

Luke would have had less interest in rebutting an alternative explanation common among non-Christian Jews, particularly if Theophilus would not have come into contact with it. In that case, even raising the question of whether the body could have been stolen might have raised doubts and been seen as contrary to his purpose of showing Theophilus “the truth concerning the things of which you have been informed” (Luke 1:4).

It also would have meant lengthening his Gospel—already the longest of the four—by 11 verses or a significant fraction of that (if he abbreviated the material). That’s not a huge amount, but it is also not nothing, and, given that Luke only includes half of the uniquely Matthean verses, it would not be particularly surprising that he omitted these.

 

The Women

Another three of our Matthean pericopes—(b), (c), and (d)—concern the women who visited Jesus’ tomb. This material represents Matthew 28:1-10.

One verse of this (Matt. 28:4) is where the guards faint and can be pulled out of the total as belonging with the above topic.

The remaining 9 verses are ones where Luke simply chose to use the Markan version over the Matthean one. Of these, Matthew 28:1-8 (except 28:4) represent material that is found in the shorter ending of Mark, which means we only have two verses—Matthew 28:9-10—that Luke would have chosen to omit from what he saw in Mark.

These two verses read as follows:

And behold, Jesus met them and said, “Hail!” And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshiped him.

Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brethren to go to Galilee, and there they will see me” (Matt. 29:9-10).

These verses contain two notable things:

  1. A brief resurrection encounter
  2. A directive to the disciples to go to Galilee

We would expect Luke to include the first in his Gospel only if he were determined to include even the briefest, least-described post-resurrection encounter.

However, we know that this is not the case. He has his own resurrection encounters that he wants to narrate at much longer length (Luke 24:13-53), and he omits multiple encounters in the Pauline tradition with which he would have been familiar (1 Cor. 15:5-7).

Therefore, given his tossup attitude toward Matthean material, it is not surprising that he would have omitted the extremely brief encounter that Matthew describes between Jesus and the women.

This leaves us with the directive to go to Galilee, which is dealt with below.

 

Galilee

The final two pericopes we identified—(f) and (g)—contain the final five verses of Matthew (Matt. 28:16-20).

In Matthew, all of this is indicated as taking place in Galilee (Matt. 28:16). This corresponds to Mark 16:7, where Jesus tells the women to instruct the disciples to go to Galilee, where they will see him (as he previously indicated in Mark 14:28).

In this case, Matthew seems to simply be following Mark, but is there reason to think that Luke wouldn’t?

Mark Goodacre writes:

[W]hat author, whose second volume plots events “beginning from Jerusalem” (Luke 24:47; cf. Acts 1:8) could plausibly have included an account of an announcement in Galilee? (The Case Against Q, 58).

This is an important point. Luke has already established that “repentance and forgiveness of sins should be preached in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem” (Luke 24:47) and that the disciples should “be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8)—a structure which governs the book of Acts.

Furthermore, Luke omits the two Markan references to the disciples seeing the risen Jesus in Galilee.

In view of this, it is easy to see how Luke would have wanted to end his Gospel with material in which Jesus addressed the apostles in the area of Jerusalem in Judea—not in Galilee.

Given his tendency to only include half of the uniquely Matthean verses, it is easy to see how he could have skipped the entirety of Matthew’s last five, Galilee-centered verses.

But did he do so entirely? Goodacre writes:

It is worth asking what in Matthew’s Great Commission (Matt 28:16-20) would have been most likely to have appealed to Luke, and whether we can see any signs of it at the end of Luke’s Gospel. Perhaps the most Lukan-friendly elements here in Matthew would be Jesus’ universalistic commission . . . (“Go, therefore, making disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” Matt 28:19). And it is exactly this element in the commission that is echoed in Luke’s own version of it . . . (“proclaiming in his name repentance and forgiveness of sins to all the nations,” Luke 24:47). To speak, then, of Luke omitting this material won’t do. A clear echo of Matthew’s resurrection story is present in Luke, and it is striking that the echo is at the most Luke-friendly juncture, the command to disciple (Matthew) or preach (Luke) to all the nations” (The Case Against Q, 58).

The close juxtaposition of the exhortation to do things “in the [divine] name” for “all the nations” is a noteworthy indicator that one of these Evangelists worked with the other in front of him at the end of his Gospel.

Since the same juxtaposition could have been created independently, due to narrative forces in the text, this is not certain, but it is probable.

Given Luke’s tossup approach to uniquely Matthean material, it could easily indicate that Luke used Matthew.

Or it could indicate the reverse . . .

 

If Matthew Used Luke

Matthew and Mark

If Matthew had Luke’s Gospel in front of him when he composed his own then the first pericope—(a), Matt. 24:1-8—is easy to account for, since it would have been Matthew’s rewriting of Mark 16:1-8.

In fact, Matthew’s use of Mark may have continued beyond this point if there was an original, longer ending to Mark and if Matthew had access to it. At the point where Mark’s narrative cuts off in the shorter ending, the women have just been instructed to tell the disciples that Jesus will see them in Galilee (Mark 16:7), as he previously indicated (Mark 14:28).

Both of these verses are paralleled in Matthew, who also has the women instructed to tell the disciples to see Jesus in Galilee (Matt. 28:7), as Jesus previously indicated (Matt. 26:32).

Given these instructions, the narrative in both Mark and Matthew would naturally go on to indicate that the women told the disciples, who then had an encounter with Jesus in Galilee.

That is, in fact, what we find in Matthew (Matt. 28:8, 16-20). The only additions to this are the report of the guards (Matt. 28:11-15) and a brief encounter with Jesus as the women are going to tell the disciples, in which they meet the risen Lord, worship him, and are again instructed to tell the disciples to meet him in Galilee (Matt. 28:9-10).

Given the absence of the placing of the guards in Mark, the account of their report would be something Matthew would have supplied, but the brief meeting with the women is something that could have been present in an original, lost ending of Mark.

We therefore should consider the possibility that Matthew’s Resurrection Narrative is essentially an edited version of Mark’s original ending with the addition of the material involving the guards.

If so, Matthew simply continued his practice of including virtually everything in Mark and supplementing it with only selected bits of Luke. (Also, this possibility would mean that the reference to the disciples doing things “in the [divine] name” for “all the nations” may have been in Mark’s original ending, in which case Luke could have picked it up from there rather than from Matthew.)

But suppose this is not the case. Suppose that Mark’s original, longer ending (if there was one) had already been lost by the time Matthew wrote, and so his use of Mark stopped at Matthew 28:8. How compelling would Matthew have found the remaining material in Luke’s Resurrection Narrative?

 

The Women

Luke has a brief account of what the women did after they left the tomb (Luke 24:9-11). In this account, the women tell the disciples what happened (v. 9), several of the women are identified by name (v. 10), and they are not initially believed (v. 11).

None of this would have been particularly compelling to Matthew. He has already indicated that the women went to tell the disciples (Matt. 28:8), he has already named some of the women (Matt. 28:1), and he elsewhere notes the doubts of the disciples (and in an even more startling place; Matt. 28:17).

 

Peter

Luke also indicates (Luke 24:12) that Peter ran to the tomb and found it empty.

Given Matthew’s interest in Peter—as illustrated by his inclusion of the “You are Peter” tradition (Matt. 16:17-19)—we might expect him to include this from Luke.

However, Matthew’s interest in Peter can be overestimated. He wasn’t uniquely interested in Peter in a way Luke and John weren’t, as both of them include parallels that make the same basic point as the “You are Peter” tradition (Luke 22:31-32, John 21:15-17).

More decisively, we can show that Matthew was not interested in highlighting Peter in his Resurrection Narrative. We know this because he omitted a reference to Peter that was in front of him in Mark. The instruction the angel gave the women there was, “Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee” (Mark 16:7), but Matthew edits this to, “Go quickly and tell his disciples that he has risen from the dead, and behold, he is going before you to Galilee” (Matt. 28:7).

Having deliberately omitted a reference to Peter from Mark’s Resurrection Narrative, Matthew would hardly have been likely to include Luke’s reference to Peter’s inconsequential visit to the empty tomb.

 

The Road to Emmaus

The encounter on the road to Emmaus is a favorite—a heartwarming story that illustrates Jesus’ playful and mysterious sides—but would Matthew have found it compelling enough to take into his Resurrection Narrative?

Probably not.

First, the story is very lengthy, comprising a full 23 verses (Luke 24:13-35), making it just two verses shorter than Matthew’s entire Resurrection Narrative! Having included parallels to 90% of Mark, Matthew finds space at a premium, and the story would need to have significant value for him to include it.

Second, no major doctrines or disciples are involved. In fact, one of the disciples is entirely unnamed, and the other (Cleopas) is someone we know very little about. If Matthew has just omitted a reference to Peter—the rock on which Jesus said he would build his Church—then he is scarcely likely to find this an essential story.

Third, and most importantly, the encounter at Emmaus occurs just outside Jerusalem—not in Galilee, where Matthew’s narrative has three times indicated Jesus will see the disciples (Matt. 26:32, 28:7, 10).

Consequently, it is easy to see why Matthew would leave his default decision to omit material from Luke in place for this event.

 

Jesus Appears to the Eleven

The account of the Emmaus encounter leads directly into an appearance that Jesus makes to the Eleven, and there are several reasons why Matthew would not have viewed this material as fitting his purposes.

First, the encounter takes place in Jerusalem, and Matthew has set his face to go to Galilee to meet the resurrected Christ.

Second, a good bit of the encounter deals with Jesus letting the disciples handle him and eating fish in front of them to prove he is not a ghost (Luke 24:36-43)—points Matthew easily could have considered unnecessary to make given the space they take.

Third, Luke is recording traditions that set up the readers for the book of Acts, with its preaching of the Gospel “beginning from Jerusalem” (Luke 24:47), whereas Matthew is headed to Galilee.

Fourth, in Luke Jesus specifically tells the disciples, “stay in the city, until you are clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49). This would directly fly in the face of the trip to Galilee that Matthew is planning.

One part of the narrative that would be congenial to Matthew’s purposes would be the general evangelistic instruction to do things “in the [divine] name” for “all the nations”—and this is reflected in Matthew (28:19), so Matthew may have been influenced by Luke’s text here.

 

The Ascension

The final part of Luke’s Resurrection Narrative is a brief account of the Ascension. This is such a compelling event that we might expect Matthew to pick it up from Luke, but this expectation is mistaken.

Matthew would not have been dependent on Luke for knowledge of the Ascension. It’s not like he would have read it for the first time in Luke’s Gospel and thought, “Oh, wow! You mean Jesus ascended into heaven? That’s awesome! I have to let my readers know about that!”

Knowledge of the Ascension was widespread—indeed, universal—in the early Christian community, and is referred to elsewhere in the New Testament (cf. John 20:17, Rom. 8:34, Eph. 1:20, Col. 3:1, Heb. 1:3, 1 Peter 3:22, etc.).

Knowledge of the Ascension was an essential part of the Christian message. If Jesus had been raised from the dead, where was he now? Not walking the streets of Jerusalem or Capernaum.

And if Matthew is scrupulous about showing that Jesus’ body could not have been stolen, he certainly understood—and expected his readers to understand—that Jesus’ body was not to be found anywhere on earth, alive or otherwise.

His decision not to include the Ascension was therefore a deliberate choice, influenced in part by the fact that the tradition that Jesus ascended was universally known—and, undoubtedly, also influenced by the fact that it was recorded as taking place in the vicinity of Jerusalem (Luke 24:50-53) rather than Matthew’s destination of Galilee.

 

Conclusion

We thus do not see the Resurrection Narratives providing compelling evidence that Matthew and Luke must have worked independently.

There are no compelling reasons why Luke would have included material found in Matthew’s narrative—and there are reasons why he definitely would not have included some of it.

The matter is even stronger if Matthew used Luke’s Gospel. Not only does he have a strong preference against picking up most Lukan material, but the contents of Luke’s Resurrection Narrative are particularly ill-suited to his purposes.

We do, however, see some indication that one Evangelist may have used the other, given the way both Gospels end with Jesus urging the apostles to do things “in the [divine] name” for “all the nations.” Unless both Evangelists are using a now-lost ending to Mark, this points toward one using the other.

The Resurrection Narratives thus do not give us reason to think that there was a lost Q source.

The Infancy Narratives and Q

nativityIn this paper we will look at what the Infancy Narratives in Matthew and Luke may tell us about the way these Gospels were composed. Specifically: We will look at an argument (described more fully here) that the two Infancy Narratives are so different that Matthew and Luke did not know each others’ Gospels.

This claim has broader implications for the way the Gospels were composed, because Matthew and Luke have about 235 verses that parallel each other but that do not have parallels in Mark or John.

We will call these 235 verses “the double tradition,” because it is found in two of the four Gospels.

If Matthew did not know Luke and Luke did not know Matthew, where did the material in the double tradition come from? It represents substantial amount of material that totals more than a fifth of both Gospels, which seems to be too much to attribute to random chance. The most likely answer, therefore, would be that both Matthew and Luke used a now-lost source that scholars have named “Q.”

(NOTE: See here for other parts of my exploration of the Synoptic Problem.)

 

Verse-by-Verse Parallels

To appreciate the force of this argument, let’s look at the kind of parallels that we find in the double tradition. It consists both of stories and sayings.

Here’s part of a story that both Gospels have a version of.

MATTHEW:

And the tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.”

But he answered, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God’” (4:3-4).

LUKE:

The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.”

And Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone’” (4:3-4).

Here is some sayings material that they each have a version of.

MATTHEW:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. . . .

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. . . .

“Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (5:3-4, 6, 11).

LUKE:

And he lifted up his eyes on his disciples, and said: “Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.

“Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be satisfied.

“Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh.

“Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you, and cast out your name as evil, on account of the Son of man!” (6:20-22).

In both the story and the sayings material, the phrasing found in each Gospel is a bit different, but the material is in parallel on a verse-by-verse level—Matthew 4:3-4 corresponds directly with Luke 4:3-4, and Matthew 5:3-4, 6, and 11 parallel Luke 6:20-22.

Although there are differences in phrasing and order, it is generally possible to match up the double tradition material in this manner throughout Matthew and Luke.

 

Authorial Conservatism

The way the double tradition material can be paralleled verse-by-verse is striking, and it didn’t have to be that way. One Evangelist could have used the other as a source but so completely rewritten the material that such verse-by-verse parallels wouldn’t appear or would be much less common.

In fact, some might argue that this is what the Evangelist John did—that he took certain stories and sayings from the Synoptic tradition and wrote them in such a different manner that the connection is rarely obvious.

It has been claimed, for example, that his account of the healing of the official’s son (John 4:46-54) is a different telling of the healing of the centurion’s servant (Matt. 8:5-13, Luke 7:1-10; note that in Matt. 8:5 the centurion asks for the healing of his pais—which in Greek can mean either “boy” or “servant”).

Similarly, it has been argued that John’s discourses convey the teachings of Jesus in a paraphrased, literary way that makes specific verse-by-verse parallels to the Synoptics uncommon (though they do exist; e.g., Matt. 10:24, Luke 6:40, John 13:16, 15:20).

The fact verse-by-verse parallels appear in the double tradition, over and over through Matthew and Luke, indicates a form of authorial conservatism: Phrasing and order might be tweaked, but the material still clearly hangs together on the levels of verses and blocks of texts.

Wherever the double tradition came from, it was treated with significant conservatism by Matthew and/or Luke, and that could lead us to expect the same for how one author would treat the Infancy Narrative of the other..

 

No Verse-by Verse Parallels

The striking thing is that there are no verse-by-verse parallels in the Infancy Narratives—at least no obvious ones as in the previous section.

This can be seen by comparing the verses in which Matthew and Luke describe the one event they definitely both record—the birth of Jesus:

MATTHEW:

[B]ut [Joseph] knew her not until she had borne a son; and he called his name Jesus (1:25).

LUKE:

And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn (2:7).

These verses both describe the same event, but they relate it in very different ways that are utterly unlike the kind of parallels we find in the double tradition.

 

Lack of Parallels on the Pericope Level

The same thing is true when we compare the Infancy Narratives on the level of blocks of text, or what scholars call pericopes (per-IH-ko-PEES). While the material can be divided different ways, here is one way of looking at it.

MATTHEW’S INFANCY NARRATIVE (31 verses):

  • Jesus’ birth announced to Joseph (1:18-25)
  • The arrival of the magi (2:1-12)
  • The flight to Egypt (2:13-15)
  • The slaughter of the innocents (2:16-18)
  • The return from Egypt (2:19-23)

LUKE’S INFANCY NARRATIVE (128 verses):

  • John the Baptist’s birth announced to Zechariah (1:5-25)
  • Jesus’ birth announced to Mary (1:26-38)
  • Mary visits Elizabeth (1:39-56)
  • The birth of John the Baptist (1:57-80)
  • The birth of Jesus (2:1-7)
  • The arrival of the shepherds (2:8-20)
  • The circumcision and presentation in the temple (2:21-38)
  • Return to Nazareth (2:39-40)
  • The finding in the temple (2:41-52)

Again, the material is very different, and not just in matters of phrasing or organization. Though both narratives deal with the birth and childhood of Jesus, the topics covered in the two are strikingly different.

 

Two Alternatives

These lack of verse-by-verse parallels and the lack of pericope parallels suggest one of two things:

  1. Matthew and Luke didn’t know each others’ Gospels and wrote independently.
  2. One did know the other’s Gospel but chose to treat its Infancy Narrative very differently.

We may concede an initial advantage to the first hypothesis since, if one Gospel is dependent on the other, its author obviously thought highly of the work he had in front of him.

If Luke used Matthew then he thought highly enough of the material in Matthew to take a fifth of it into his own Gospel. We might expect him to do the same with Matthew’s Infancy Narrative.

Exactly the same would be true if Matthew used Luke: He used a fifth of Luke’s material, so we might expect him to do the same with Luke’s Infancy Narrative.

This initial advantage is far from insuperable, however. An author does not have to slavishly follow the same procedure in handling each part of his sources. It is perfectly possible for an author to see sufficient value in some parts of his source to include them but not enough value for his purposes to include other parts.

Indeed, we have a control case in Luke’s “Great Omission.” This is a section of Mark’s Gospel that runs approximately 75 verses, from Mark 6:47 to 8:27a. Although Luke borrows a great deal of material from elsewhere in Mark, he simply leaps over this section, apparently because he didn’t think it had sufficient value for his purposes.

This shows that Luke is quite capable of omitting large sections of his sources. In fact, at 75 verses, the Great Omission is more than twice as long as Matthew’s Infancy Narrative, which is only 31 verses. Luke was thus capable of omitting sections of his sources much longer than Matthew’s Infancy Narrative.

In view of this, we can overcome the initial advantage of the independence hypothesis if we can show that there are significant reasons why Matthew or Luke would have treated the other’s Infancy Narrative differently than the material in the double tradition.

Are there such reasons?

 

The Question of Length

One reason which is easy for moderns to miss entirely, or to dramatically undervalue, is the question of length. In the ancient world, books were amazingly expensive to produce.

There were multi-volume works, such as Tacitus’s Histories and Annals, which together comprised thirty books. However, only the rich could afford to author or own such collections.

As a result, epitomes (abridgments) were very popular in the ancient world. They allowed people to get the gist of a longer work without having to pay the staggering cost to own it. Because epitomes were so popular, they often survived the ages when the original, unabridged works did not.

A well known example is 2 Maccabees, which is an abridgement of a five-volume work by Jason of Cyrene (2 Macc. 2:23). The epitome of this larger work has survived and is in our Bibles today, but the original has perished.

This illustrates the price pressure on ancient authors to keep their works short. If you wanted only the rich to have your work, multi-volume collections were fine, but if you wanted a broader audience—which the Evangelists would have (see Richard Bauckham, ed., The Gospels for All Christians)—then you needed to keep your work to a single volume.

Indeed, there was even price pressure for single-volume works to be shorter rather than longer, since it cost more to author and copy longer ones. Authors of such works needed to find the right balance between content and length, delivering the highest value content for their purposes in the shortest space possible.

This is likely a factor in the popularity of the different Gospels in the ancient world. Using numbers given by Larry W. Hurtado (The Earliest Christian Artifacts, ch. 1), here are the four Gospels ranked from shortest to longest, with the number of surviving manuscripts from the second and third centuries, which is one of our best indicators of how popular they were at the time:

  • Mark (1 copy)
  • John (16 copies)
  • Matthew (12 copies)
  • Luke (7 copies)

Even allowing for randomness or “noise” in the number of the copies that have survived, Matthew and John—the Evangelists who wrote middling-size Gospels—seem to have found the sweet spot for the ancient audience, delivering the right combination of high value content and brevity.

Matthew (1071 verses) provided a broad and well-organized representation of the Synoptic tradition, being richer in content than Mark (661 verses with the shorter ending, 678 verses with the longer ending) and both briefer and less expensive than Luke (1151 verses). John (879 verses) was on the short side and provided a wealth of material not found in the Synoptics. It’s no surprise that these proved to be the most popular Gospels in the ancient world.

The full force of the length consideration isn’t felt until you try figuring out just how expensive authoring and copying such works was. While it is intrinsically difficult to do cross-cultural price comparisons, such efforts have been made.

For example, E. Randolph Richards estimates that it would have cost Paul around $2,275 to produce Romans and have one copy to mail and one to retain for his records (Paul and First-Century Letter Writing, 169). Romans contains 433 verses, and if we scale that up for the Gospels, we get these figures:

  • Mark: $3,562
  • John: $4,618
  • Matthew: $5,627
  • Luke: $6,047

The production prices would have been even more if (as is likely) the Evangelists had more than one initial copy of their work prepared for distribution, and the costs could have been multiple times the sums involved in making a single personal copy and a single copy for distribution.

In view of these prices, it’s easy to see the motivation the Evangelists had to keep their Gospels short—partly for the sake of their own pocket books but also for the sake of their readers. The longer they wrote, the fewer people would be able to afford their works and the fewer souls would benefit.

Length is likely the consideration responsible for Luke’s “Great Omission.” This is suggested by a look at its contents:

  • Walking on the Water (6:45-52)
  • People Flock to Jesus (6:53-56)
  • The Hand-Washing Controversy (7:1-23)
  • The Syro-Phoenician Woman (7:24-31)
  • Healing a Deaf Man (7:32-37)
  • Feeding the Four Thousand (8:1-9)
  • Interpreting the Time (8:10-13)
  • “Beware the Leaven” (8:14-21)
  • Healing a Blind Man (8:22-26)

The material in this section is not particularly “low value” in and of itself, but it is largely material of the same kind we find elsewhere in Mark (and Luke).

When space is at a premium—and it would be especially for Luke as the author of the longest Gospel—one only needs so many accounts of healings, exorcisms, and multiplications of loaves. It’s easy to see how Luke could have reviewed this section of Mark and decided to skip forward since he was already planning on including parallels to much of this.

This gets us back to the question of how Matthew and Luke selected the material that they did include.

 

How Matthew and Luke Used Mark

If Mark wrote first then it’s clear that both Matthew and Luke used his Gospel to obtain their general outline. In a sense, they both start with Mark and then supplement it.

They do this in different ways, however. Ninety percent of the verses of Mark are paralleled in Matthew, but only fifty-five percent are paralleled in Luke (B. H. Streeter, The Four Gospels, 160).

Matthew thus had a stronger preference for using material from Mark than Luke did. Matthew’s default position was to include material from Mark unless there was a particular reason not to do so (as there apparently was in the case of ten percent of Markan material).

For Luke, there was a general preference to use material from Mark, but it wasn’t nearly as strong, as he was willing to let forty-five percent of the verses in Mark go without parallel.

 

How Matthew and Luke Used Their Source for the Double Tradition

It is sometimes argued that virtually all of the Q source must be preserved in Matthew and Luke since the original document is lost. If Q contained much material that wasn’t picked up by the Evangelists, why wasn’t it copied enough to survive?

This argument might be strengthened by an appeal to Matthew, who used ninety percent of Mark. If that’s how he handled Mark, wouldn’t he handle Q the same way?

There are easy rejoinders to this.

First, the idea that Matthew would have treated both his sources the same way is a weak assumption. He may have seen much more value in Mark than in Q and thus only preserved part of Q.

Second, there is the example of Luke, who used only fifty-five percent of Mark. If that’s how Luke treated Mark then we might expect him to treat Q in the same way. This is the flip side of the weak assumption that Matthew would have treated both sources the same.

Third, the only method we have of “identifying” Q material is the fact that it appears in both Matthew and Luke. It’s sheer speculation how the two authors would have treated a Q source, and without knowing how both of them would have treated it, we can’t infer anything with confidence about how much of it they would have used.

Fourth, the argument that if Q contained substantial additional material then it would have survived is weak.

Jesus ministered with his disciples for more than three years, and the Gospels taken together represent only a fraction of the things he said and did. This point is expressly made by John (hyperbolically) at the end of his Gospel:

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).

Memory of the majority of things that Jesus did has perished, and we can’t assume that Q would be an exception to this. The vast majority of documents from the ancient world—Christian ones included—are now lost, and the fact that an individual one survived is the exception rather than the rule.

Finally, all of the above assumes that there even was a Q. But suppose there wasn’t? What would that tell us about how Matthew and Luke handled their source for the double tradition?

The answer is straightforward.

If Luke picked up the double tradition material from Matthew then, in addition to selecting a little more than half of Mark for inclusion in his Gospel, he also took 235 verses from Matthew that he thought fit his purposes well. Most of these were taken from Matthew’s large discourses, but since Luke (apparently, on this theory) has less patience for large discourses, he put them at other locations in his Gospel.

On the other hand, if Matthew picked up the double tradition material from Luke then, after making the basic decision to use as much of Mark as possible, he went through Luke and selected 235 verses that he thought were valuable enough for his purposes to include, while still keeping his Gospel a reasonable length. He then integrated most of these verses into his five large discourses.

In either case, one Evangelist selected 235 verses—or about a fifth—of the other Gospel for inclusion in his own. To put the matter another way, one Evangelist “cherry-picked” the other—in the positive sense of selecting the best items for his purposes (not the negative sense of suppressing things he disagreed with).

One can also look at this another way, which results in somewhat different ratios.

Matthew contains 470 verses that are not paralleled in Mark. If Luke used approximately 235 of those then he would have used fifty percent of what remained of Matthew when we take away the Markan material.

Similarly, Luke contains 785 verses that are not paralleled in Mark. If Matthew used approximately 235 of those then he would have used thirty percent of what remained of Luke when we take away the Markan material.

In both cases, the Evangelist would not have a default position in favor of using material from the other Gospel. In Luke’s case, it would be a fifty-fifty tossup as to whether he used material from Matthew, while in Matthew’s case there would be a seventy percent chance he would skip material from Luke.

Whichever way one looks at the cherry-picking, it has implications for our evaluation of how each would have treated the other’s Infancy Narrative.

 

The Formulas They Would Have Used

One implication is that we can see the formulas that the two Evangelists would have used in composing their Gospels:

LUKE:

  • About 365 verses from Mark (55% of the total)
  • About 235 verses from Matthew (20% of the total; 50% without Markan material)
  • About 550 verses from other sources

MATTHEW:

  • About 600 verses from Mark (90% of the total)
  • About 235 verses from Luke (20% of the total; 30% without Markan material)
  • About 230 verses from other sources

In both cases, the procedure would have been to produce a shortened version of Mark, supplemented by select material from other sources, one of which was the other Synoptic.

In view of the limited amount that would have been drawn from the other Synoptic, the numerical burden does not fall on the Q skeptic to show why the Evangelist omitted certain material.

The burden would fall on the Q skeptic if there was a bias in favor of including material, but there isn’t. In Luke’s it’s a tossup whether he would include a particular Matthean verse, and in Matthew the odds are that he would not include a particular Lukan verse.

Of course, this looks at the question from a numerical point of view rather than a content point of view. One could still argue that the content of a particular verse would be so compelling that the an Evangelist would have used it, but this has to be argued rather than assumed, and the above numbers indicate the freedom to skip material that both Evangelists would have felt.

(Note: One could argue with the numbers above if one could show that Matthew borrowed a significant amount of material from Luke even though the same material was also found in Mark, or that Luke borrowed a significant amount of material from Matthew even though it was also found in Mark. Determining which version of a verse an Evangelist used—the one found in Mark or the one found in the other Evangelist—would require a significant amount of work that I do not presently have leisure for. The results also would be quite debatable, and they would not change much, since the Evangelist would know that the material was found in both of his sources, making it somewhat arbitrary which version he used. He still would be using only fifty or thirty percent of the remaining verses.)

 

The Psychology of Cherry Picking

Today, when our knowledge of Jesus is filtered almost exclusively through the four canonical Gospels, every bit of Jesus tradition takes on added value.

Imagine how exciting it would be to have a new story or saying from Jesus that we knew for a fact was accurate. It would be mind blowing!

If we put ourselves in the position of one of the original Evangelists writing a Gospel, it’s easy to imagine that we would include every scrap of Jesus tradition we knew. How could we not? Forget cost and length considerations! To do otherwise would be to risk losing a Jesus tradition for future generations forever!

But the Evangelists were not in the position we are. They had access, orally or otherwise, to many Jesus traditions that have now perished, and—except for John—they may not have had an expectation that there would be future generations. They may have thought that the world would be ending soon and that the memory of the many unwritten things that Jesus said and did would be preserved until the end.

There was therefore less pressure on them to include every Jesus tradition they knew, and this made it possible for them to cherry pick their sources without the debilitating fear that we today would have of losing traditions.

This pressure was also lessened by the fact that later Evangelists knew what the earlier ones had written. They knew that the material was already “out there” in print—that those Jesus traditions had already been preserved in writing. They therefore had less of a psychological need to include every tradition they knew.

Furthermore, as the statement from the end of John’s Gospel intimates, there was a vast pool of Jesus traditions that was still preserved in living memory. The practical realities of book writing, and the corresponding realities of evangelization through books, meant that they had to be selective in what they included.

As Martin Hengel points out regarding Luke (in this case concerning Paul, but the same applies concerning Jesus):

[W]e cannot even claim without further ado, as is the habit of so many scholars today, that Luke only knew what he reported about the early period of Christianity. He certainly knew a good deal more than he put down; when he is silent about something, there are usually special reasons for it. Only by this strict limitation of his material can he ‘put his heroes in the right perspective’ (Earliest Christianity, 36, emphasis added).

The same was true regarding the other Evangelists: They all knew a good deal more than they wrote, and we should not assume that they didn’t know a tradition just because they didn’t record it. The better question is usually why they chose to include a tradition rather than why they chose to omit one.

The assumption that an Evangelist did not know a Jesus tradition just because he doesn’t mention it is absurd given the way the later Evangelists (Matthew, Luke, and John) treated Mark in the composition of their own Gospels. None of them—not even Matthew—preserves every Jesus tradition that Mark does, yet they each knew the Jesus traditions in Mark and deliberately omitted some, in greater or lesser degrees.

When we add to this the facts that there was an even broader pool of Jesus traditions to which the Evangelists had access, and that they were writing under strong pressure to keep their Gospels short, the assumption that silence implies ignorance is more absurd still.

This puts us in a position to look directly at the choices Matthew and Luke would have made regarding the Infancy Narratives.

Both Matthew and Luke wanted to include material about Jesus birth and early life, as is obvious from the fact they included Infancy Narratives. But are there reasons why they wouldn’t use extracts from each others’ narratives the way they would have the double tradition material?

There are, and we’ll look at them from the viewpoint of each Evangelist.

 

If Luke Used Matthew

Matthew’s Infancy Narrative is only 31 verses. If Luke had chosen to include them, his Gospel would have grown to 1182 verses, representing an expansion of under three percent.

That’s not a big expansion, but it’s also not nothing. Considerations of length could have played some role—but a minor one—in Luke’s decision to omit Matthew’s Infancy Narrative.

What if we consider the content of Matthew’s narrative?

Basically, it consists of two stories. The first deal’s with Joseph learning of Mary’s pregnancy and his reaction (1:18-25) and the second deals with the arrival of the magi and the series of events it sets in motion (2:1-23). This could make it somewhat difficult for Luke to excerpt Matthew without including the whole of one or both stories.

Faced with that choice, he presumably would not have a great deal of interest in recording the first story. Internal indications in Luke strongly suggest that Mary herself was one of his sources (either directly or at a close remove; see Luke 2:19, 51), and he was especially interested in presenting the traditions derived from her.

It could have been difficult to pull away and re-show the situation from Joseph’s perspective, particularly without disrupting the literary rhythms he was establishing with the parallels between John the Baptist’s birth and Jesus’ birth.

Also, given Joseph’s initial intention to divorce Mary (Matt. 1:19), including him in the narrative could cause him to appear in an undesirable, negative light due to comparisons with Zechariah, who initially did not believe (Luke 1:18-20, cf. 1:45).

Regarding the second story, much of it could not be easily excerpted—the flight to Egypt, the slaughter of the innocents, and the return from Egypt to Nazareth make no sense without a discussion of the magi.

Luke could have offered an abbreviated account of the magi’s visit without going into the events their arrival caused. Indeed, some have thought he should have done so given his interest in Gentiles. Robert H. Stein writes:

Why would Luke have omitted such material as the coming of the wise men (Matt. 2:1-12)? Would not the presence of such Gentiles at the birth of Jesus have been meaningful for Luke’s Gentile-oriented Gospel? (The Synoptic Problem, 102).

Stein misspeaks, because the magi did not come at Jesus’ birth. They came up to two years after his birth (Matt. 2:16), and that of itself could provide Luke with a disincentive to mention the visit. Given his interest in providing an orderly narrative (Luke 1:3), he would have needed to indicate a lengthy stay in Bethlehem, which may have been more chronology than he wanted to go into.

Further, he already had the story of the shepherds’ visit, and they were there the night of Jesus’ birth. This tradition presumably came from Mary herself, and Luke was keen to include the traditions he had from her. If he wanted to include that story, he may have considered the visit of the magi less important to record. He would have needed to indicate that the shepherds came and then, a year or two later, the magi arrived.

We have already seen how he recorded the Feeding of the Five Thousand (Luke 9:10-17) but he omits its sequel, the Feeding of the Four Thousand (Mark 8:1-9). In the same way he may have wished to include the initial visit of the shepherds but considered this sufficient to show the miraculous arrival of witnesses, without a need to include the event’s delayed sequel.

Finally, some have argued that Luke may have had other reasons to omit the account. Mark Goodacre writes:

Luke is the only writer other than Matthew in the New Testament to give us a hint of his view of the magi and it is negative—a certain Simon Magus is one of the villains in Acts of the Apostles (8:9-24). Moreover, at least since Conzelmann scholars have been sensitive to Luke’s apparent reticence to have Jesus coming into contact with Gentiles in the Gospel. One only has to witness the lengths to which Luke has gone to keep the Centurion out of Jesus’ sight to see the point (Matt 8:5-13 // Luke 7:1-11) (The Case Against Q, 56).

Personally, I’m more inclined to see Matthew as omitting mention of the centurion’s agents as a way of keeping his narrative of the event uncluttered, but there are still sufficient reasons why, if Luke had Matthew’s Gospel in front of him, he could have decided not to include the material in Matthew’s Infancy Narrative.

Now let’s look at the possibility that Matthew used Luke.

 

If Matthew Used Luke

The consideration of space would have weighed heavily on Matthew if he used Luke’s Gospel in producing his own. Luke’s infancy narrative is 128 verses long. For Matthew to include it would lengthen his Gospel to 1199 verses, making it the longest Gospel and increasing its volume by twelve percent!

If Matthew had Luke in front of him, he likely wanted to produce something shorter than Luke (since he did), and going even longer would be something he would resist.

Another way of looking at this is by the proportionate length of the Infancy Narratives. Matthew’s is 31 verses long, while Luke’s is 128 verses long. This means that Luke’s Infancy Narrative is more than four times as long as Matthew’s! It’s easy to see how Matthew might have wanted to keep his Infancy Narrative shorter and not devote a large fraction of his whole Gospel to it (as Luke did, with his Infancy Narrative amounting to eleven percent of his whole Gospel).

Further, in keeping with his fundamental choice to only include select material from Luke (twenty percent of it), it is easy to imagine him sticking with his default choice to omit Lukan material when it came to that Gospel’s Infancy Narrative and not lift pericopes from it.

This is particularly the case when we look at the content of Luke’s Infancy Narrative.

First, much of it is taken up with speeches, such as Gabriel’s announcement of John’s birth (1:13-17), Gabriel’s announcement of Jesus’ birth (1:28-33), Mary’s canticle (1:46-55), Zechariah’s canticle (1:68-79), the angels’ announcement to the shepherds (2:10-14), and Simeon’s speech (2:29-35).

Second, much of the material isn’t about Jesus’ birth at all but John the Baptist’s.

Third, the material about John the Baptist’s birth is interwoven with the material about Jesus’ birth in a way that would make it difficult to pull them apart. Much of Gabriel’s appearance to Mary and all Mary’s visit to Elizabeth only make sense if read in light of the John the Baptist birth narrative.

Fourth, Luke spends time narrating how Mary and Joseph did perfectly ordinary things for Jesus that any Jewish parents would do for their firstborn son (2:21-24).

Fifth, Luke relates minor incidents like the encounter with the prophetess Anna (who isn’t even quoted; 2:36-38) and the finding in the temple (2:41-51). As heartwarming as these are, they are not high-priority items, as illustrated by their omission by the other three Gospels.

If you pull out these elements, there is basically nothing left of Luke’s Infancy Narrative, so it is easy to see how a space-pressed Matthew could have looked at Luke 1 and 2 and decided to stick with his default decision to omit rather than include. He has his own traditions about Jesus’ birth that he wants to record, he can relate the important facts about Jesus birth (see the next section) without excerpting Luke, and he knows Luke’s traditions have already been preserved in writing.

 

Common Elements

Thus far we’ve been looking at the Infancy Narratives through the lens of what is different between them. If not balanced, this can lead to a false impression, because the two narratives also have multiple points in common.

In his book The Birth of the Messiah, Raymond E. Brown notes eleven points shared by the two narratives:

a)        The parents to be are Mary and Joseph who are legally engaged or married, but have not yet come to live together or have [sic] sexual relations (Matt 1:18; Luke 1:27, 34).

b)        Joseph is of Davidic descent (Matt 1:16, 20; Luke 1:27, 32; 2:4).

c)         There is an angelic announcement of the forthcoming birth of the child (Matt 1:20–23; Luke 1:30–35).

d)        The conception of the child by Mary is not through intercourse with her husband (Matt 1:20, 23, 25; Luke 1:34).

e)        The conception is through the Holy Spirit (Matt 1:18, 20; Luke 1:35).

f)         There is a directive from the angel that the child is to be named Jesus (Matt 1:21; Luke 1:31).

g)        An angel states that Jesus is to be Savior (Matt 1:21; Luke 2:11).

h)        The birth of the child takes place after the parents have come to live together (Matt 1:24–25; Luke 2:5–6).

i)         The birth takes place at Bethlehem (Matt 2:1; Luke 2:4–6).

j)         The birth is chronologically related to the reign (days) of Herod the Great (Matt 2:1; Luke 1:5).

k)        The child is reared at Nazareth (Matt 2:23; Luke 2:39) (pp., 34-35).

What accounts for this material? In his book, Brown makes the following argument:

Since it is generally agreed among scholars that Matthew and Luke wrote independently of each other, without knowing the other’s work, agreement between the two infancy narratives would suggest the existence of a common infancy tradition earlier than either evangelist’s work—a tradition that would have a claim to greater antiquity and thus weigh on the plus side of the historical scale (p. 34).

Brown’s argument assumes that Matthew and Luke wrote independently of each other. Since that is what we are reconsidering, it’s logical to reject this premise and see what the results might be: If one Evangelist had the other’s Gospel in front of him, could that be responsible for these similarities?

It’s difficult to imagine Matthew or Luke being totally dependent on the other for his knowledge of traditions about Jesus’ birth. Such traditions were already out there in the Christian community, and they are reflected elsewhere in the New Testament. For example:

  • Jesus is descended from David (Mark 10:47, John 7:42, Rom. 1:3, 2 Tim. 2:8, Rev. 5:5, 22:16, etc.).
  • Jesus is from Bethlehem (John 7:42).
  • Jesus is “of Nazareth” (Mark 1:9, John 1:45, Acts 2:22, etc.).

It’s difficult to imagine an individual well-informed enough and motivated enough to write a Gospel including an Infancy Narrative not to have done his own research into the question of what happened at Jesus’ birth. Therefore, even if one Evangelist used the other, it’s unlikely that he drew all of the common elements from the other.

It is more likely that each Evangelist knew some or all of the common elements from his own sources and that he included them because they communicated things he wanted his readers to know about Jesus.

However, even if both Evangelists had their own sources for each of the common elements, this does not mean that they worked with no knowledge of the other Evangelist. As Goodacre points out regarding the possibility that Luke knew Matthew:

[K]nowledge of a source is not the same as direct use of a source, and one of the key questions is whether there are any signs of Luke’s knowledge of Matthew in the Birth Narrative. After all, Luke may well have been inspired by Matthew’s account to write his own somewhat different account. If this possibility is taken seriously, the focus shifts away from the lack of extensive parallels between Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-2 toward the more nuanced question of evidence for Luke’s knowledge of Matthew. In other words, rather than looking at the obvious points of divergence between the accounts, we might ask whether any of the points of contact are sufficiently marked to suggest that Luke may have known Matthew [op. cit., 56].

The same is true of the possibility that Matthew used Luke.

So: Are there indications that one Evangelist knew the other?

 

Indications of Knowledge?

Goodacre writes:

Though it is not often appreciated, there are indeed signs that Luke knows Matthew’s Birth Narrative. Not only do they agree on matters unique to the two of them within the New Testament, like Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem, the name of Jesus’ father (Joseph) and, most importantly, the Virginal Conception, they even share words in common, including the following key sentence:

Matt 1:21

teksetai de huion kai kaleseis to onoma autou Iēsoun.

She will give birth to a son and you shall call him Jesus.

Luke 1:31

kai teksē huion kai kaleseis to onoma autou Iēsoun.

You will give birth to a son and you shall call him Jesus (op. cit., 56-57).

The initial items that Goodacre mentions could be explained other ways. The belief that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem was widely held, and it even is mentioned in John (7:42), so this was out there in the Christian community. Similarly, anyone within living memory of Jesus’ birth would have been able to find out the names of his parents. And the Virgin Birth is so striking an event that it would have been widely noted in Christian circles.

What about the word-for-word passage that the two share in common? This is certainly not the only time that heaven has directed a child to be given a particular name. In fact, we saw the same thing earlier in Luke, when Gabriel told Zechariah what to name John the Baptist (Luke 1:13).

The same thing has precedents in the Old Testament (e.g., Is. 8:3, Hos. 1:4, 6, 9). Particularly notable are Genesis 16:11, 17:19 and Isaiah 7:14, which in the Septuagint read as follows:

Genesis 16:11

su en gastri ekheis, kai teksē huion, kai kaleseis to onoma autou Ismaēl.

you are with child, and shall bear a son; you shall call his name Ishmael.

Genesis 17:19

hē gunē sou teksetai soi huion kai kaleseis to onoma autou Isaak.

your wife shall bear you a son, and you shall call his name Isaac.

Isaiah 7:14

hē parthenos en gastri lēpsetai, kai teksetai huion, kai kaleseis to onoma autou Emmanouēl.

a young woman shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

These are so similar to what we find in Matthew and Luke that it is reasonable to conclude, with Joseph A. Fitzmyer, that:

The message to Mary is couched in rather stereotyped OT phraseology for announcing the conception and birth of an extraordinary child (The Gospel According to Luke (1-9), 346).

Rather than evidence of one Evangelist borrowing this phrasing from the other, it is just as likely that they were borrowing from the Old Testament.

That’s particularly the case with Matthew, who in the next two verses indicates the origin of the angel’s phraseology, stating that the angel’s message was a fulfillment of Isaiah 7:14 (“All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel,” Matt. 1:22-23).

While Luke could have been influenced by Matthew to use this kind of phraseology in his Gospel, the phraseology itself is too common for this to be relied upon. Luke easily could have written independently of Matthew and come up with the same phrasing from the Old Testament parallels.

 

Mirror Elements

If the above parallels between the Infancy Narratives are not persuasive, do any exist that are?

I think so. Brown notes that some of the common elements in the Infancy Narratives appear in different forms:

For example, while both Gospels have Jesus’ birth announced by angels, in Matthew the angel speaks to Joseph but in Luke the angel speaks to Mary (op. cit., 34).

This is not the only element of its kind. We may note several elements Brown does not record that mirror each other, in addition to the initial one:

1)        Angels speak to both of Jesus’ parents—Joseph in Matthew and Mary in Luke (Matt 1:20–23; Luke 1:30–35).

2)        The birth of Jesus is attended by celestial phenomena—a star in Matthew and a host of angels in Luke (Matt 2:2, 7, 9, 10; Luke 2:9-15).

3)        These celestial phenomena were observed by others, who were motivated to visit the child and his parents (Matt 2:1-12; Luke 2:15-20).

4)        The child’s visitors were of different social statuses (shepherds being of low education and rank and magi being of high education and rank).

5)        The child’s visitors were of different ethnicities (the shepherds being Jews and the magi being Gentiles).

Stepping outside the narrow bounds of the Infancy Narratives, we also may also add:

6)        Both Gospels include genealogies of Jesus but they are strikingly different in multiple respects (see below).

The way Matthew and Luke mirror each other on these points suggests that one was writing in response to the other. The question is: Why?

One reason might be supplemental intent—that is, one Evangelist knew the other had preserved one set of traditions in writing, and he wanted to preserve additional ones. This kind of intent is demonstrable elsewhere in the Gospels, as when John intentionally supplements Mark (see Richard Bauckham, “John for Readers of Mark,” The Gospels for All Christians; see also here).

However, the way the elements mirror each other suggests that more than just supplemental intent was at work. It has long been noted that:

  • Matthew’s narrative focuses almost exclusively on Joseph, while Luke’s focuses almost exclusively on Mary
  • Matthew accentuates Jesus’ regal dimension (his genealogy records Jesus’ descent from Solomon and the line of kings that followed him, King Herod being threatened by Jesus’ birth, and the visit of foreign dignitaries seeking to honor the new king) while Luke presents Jesus as a man of the common people (his genealogy records Jesus’ descent from Nathan, Mary praising God for his deeds on behalf of the lowly, and the visit of humble shepherds)

These are significant clues to why one Evangelist may have wanted to respond to the other. The question is: Who was responding to whom?

If Luke was responding to Matthew then he may have found the latter’s emphasis on Joseph and Jesus’ regal dimension not fully to his taste. He then balanced it by using the traditions he had regarding Mary and by bringing out the dimension of God’s compassion through Jesus on the lowly.

If Matthew was responding to Luke then he may have felt that Luke omitted information and themes which would have been important for his audience of Jewish Christians. He may have felt that Luke’s overwhelming emphasis on Mary and his populist themes needed to be balanced for a Jewish audience with an emphasis on Joseph, through whom Jesus would have had legal claim to the Davidic monarchy. He similarly may have felt that the regal aspect of Jesus needed further emphasis, and the traditions he had at his disposal allowed him to accomplish both of these goals.

 

A Word About the Genealogies

Having mentioned the genealogies of Jesus (Matt. 1:1-17, Luke 3:23-38), it is appropriate to say a few words about them, though they are only ambiguously grouped with the Infancy Narratives. (Matthew’s genealogy could be conceived of either as separate or as part of his Infancy Narrative, while Luke’s is found outside his Infancy Narrative, in his account of Jesus’ ministry.)

Given the well-known differences between these genealogies, including the fact that they trace Jesus’ descent through different lines, many have seen the two as evidence of the independence of Matthew and Luke. Thus Stein writes:

[I]f Luke had before him Matthew’s birth account and genealogy, one wonders if he would not have sought in some way to ‘harmonize’ the one we have in his Gospel with the Matthean version (The Synoptic Problem, 102, emphasis added).

Once again, there are plausible reasons why one Evangelist would choose to include a different genealogy than the one he saw the other using.

If Luke knew Matthew’s Gospel then several things may have leapt out at him regarding its genealogy: (1) It only goes back to Abraham (Matt. 1:1, 17), (2) it omits multiple generations in order to fit a scheme of three, fourteen-generation blocks (Matt. 1:17), (3) it’s right up at the front of the Gospel (Matt. 1:1-17), and (4) it shows Jesus descending from David through Solomon and the line of kings down to Jeconiah (Matt. 1:6-12).

Luke thus may have chosen to include his genealogy to balance each of these: Thus (1) he took his genealogy all the way back to Adam, to make explicit the parallels between Jesus and Adam as sons of God in unique ways (Luke 3:38; cf. Rom. 5:14, 1 Cor. 15:22, 45, 47), (2) he included a fuller list of the generations that is not compressed the way Matthew’s is (though it may be seen as eleven blocks of seven generations; see Richard Bauckham, Jude and the Relatives of Jesus in Early Christianity, 318-321), (3) he placed his genealogy later in the Gospel so that it would not provide the abrupt, contextless start for his Gentile readers that Matthew’s placement of the genealogy right at the front of his Gospel would have, and (4) he recorded Jesus’ descent from David through his son Nathan (Luke 3:31), thus avoiding the line of kings terminating in Jeconiah.

The last deserves special comment. Jeremiah had pronounced a curse upon Jeconiah (aka Coniah, Jehoiachin), indicating that his sons would not be king after him:

As I live, says the Lord, though Coniah the son of Jehoiakim, king of Judah, were the signet ring on my right hand, yet I would tear you off. . . . Thus says the Lord: ‘Write this man down as childless, a man who shall not succeed in his days; for none of his offspring shall succeed in sitting on the throne of David, and ruling again in Judah’” (Jer. 22:24, 30).

Because of the flexibility of the Old Testament concept of “son,” it could be questioned whether the prophecy applied to Jeconiah’s immediate sons or to all of his male descendants, in which case none of them would have a claim to being the Messianic son of David (at least not due to their descent from Jeconiah).

Whether the Messiah could be a son of Jeconiah is disputed in Judaism today, and it may well have been in Jesus’ day.

If so, Luke might have included his genealogy to make it clear that Jesus’ claim as Messiah did not rest merely on his descent from David through Jeconiah; he had a claim to being a son of David and thus a potential candidate for Messiah apart from this.

Or the problem may not have been just Jeconiah, but the entire line of kings from Solomon to David. Bauckham writes:

[I]n the Old Testament prophetic tradition, which both condemned the kings of Judah and expected a renewal of the Davidic monarchy, under a righteous king in the future, the dominant expectation was for a new Davidic king who was not descended from David through the royal line of the kings of Judah. This expectation is classically embodied in Isaiah 11:1: ‘There shall come forth a shoot (ḥōṭer) from the stump of Jesse, and a branch (nēṣer) shall grow out of his roots’ (RSV). The image is of a tree chopped down to a stump. A new shoot grows up from the roots (see Job 14:7–9 for the image). The natural meaning is that the tree of the royal house of David will be cut down in judgment, and the ideal king of the future will be derived, not from the royal line of the kings of Judah, but from the origins of the dynasty, indicated by the reference to Jesse. He will represent, as it were, a fresh start, taken, like David himself, from non-royal stock. If he is a descendant of David at all, then he will have to come of a line of David’s descendants other than the royal line through Solomon and the kings of Judah.

That this is the correct interpretation of Isaiah 11:1 is confirmed by the similar implication of Micah 5:2 (Hebrew 5:1):

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah,
who are little to be among the clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
one who is to be ruler in Israel,
whose origin is from of old, from ancient days (RSV).

The new king is to be born not in the royal palace in Jerusalem, but in insignificant Bethlehem, where David’s line began. He will derive not from the royal line of the kings of Judah, but from the ancient origins of the line, from the beginnings of David’s dynasty. Again there is doubtless the intention of going back behind the corruption of the kings of Judah and making a fresh start, comparable with God’s original choice of David himself (Jude and the Relatives of Jesus in Early Christianity, 334-335).

In fact, there appears to have been a tradition that the Messiah would be a descendant of Nathan in particular (Bauckham, op. cit., 347-354).

For each of these reasons, if Luke had Matthew’s Gospel in front of him, he may have been prompted to include his own genealogy, making the descent from Nathan rather than the line of kings ending in Jeconiah clear.

On the other hand, if Matthew had Luke’s Gospel in front of him, several things also would have jumped out about its genealogy: (1) It’s in a very non-traditional, reverse order, (2) it ends in Adam, (3) it’s in a very unexpected place, and (4) it skips entirely the line of kings after David.

Matthew then would have included his own genealogy to balance these: (1) A reverse-order genealogy was extremely unusual for a Jewish genealogy, and Matthew may well have wanted to give his Jewish Christian readers a more standard presentation of the Messiah’s lineage, (2) he may have wanted to relate the Messiah more clearly to the people of Israel and its great historic events (Abraham, David, the Babylonian Exile), compared to the universalist, Lukan genealogy linking the Messiah to the dawn of the whole human race, (3) he may have wanted to put his genealogy of Jesus before his account of the birth, which better reflects the placement of genealogies in the Old Testament and which avoids Luke’s highly unusual placement of Jesus’ genealogy after his baptism, and, finally, (4) for those unfamiliar with or unconvinced by the prophetic interpretations above (a group that may, in fact, have been a majority among ordinary people; “Of course the Messiah is a descendant of the line of Davidic kings! He’s the royal Son of David!”), Matthew may have wanted to make it clear that Jesus did have a claim to being the Messiah via descent through Solomon and the line of Davidic kings.

The fact the two genealogies trace Jesus’ descent from different sons of David is likely explained by ambiguity in Jesus’ day regarding precisely how the Messiah would be descended from David. Indeed, the fact that people had different opinions about this is likely why Jesus’ family (among others) preserved the memory of its descent through both lines—and why the Evangelists felt the need to present both to their audiences.

In view of each of the factors listed above, for both Evangelists the point deliberately would have been not to present the lineage of the Messiah in the same way as the Gospel he had in front of him but to present it in a different way.

 

Overall Design

A final indication that Matthew and Luke were not writing independently is that they both came up with such similar overall designs for their Gospels. This goes beyond the Infancy Narratives and the genealogies, but it also includes them and so is relevant here.

Both Evangelists saw a promising foundation in Mark, but they wanted to expand it in order to reach particular audiences. The fact that they both expanded it in the same way suggests that one may have been prompted by the work done by the other.

One of the expansions they made was to include post-Resurrection narratives that went beyond the shorter ending of Mark. If Mark originally ended without such appearances or if its original ending had already been lost, then it is easy to understand why they did so. This would be a natural expansion that their audiences would have wanted—as illustrated by the fact that post-Resurrection appearances are also found in John (20:11-21:23), in the longer ending of Mark (16:9-19), and even outside the Gospels in Paul (1 Cor. 15:5-8).

What’s more significant is the fact that they both included Infancy Narratives, and narratives of the kind they did. Considering the possibility that Luke used Matthew, Goodacre writes:

The theory that Luke could not have known Matthew because he does not copy wholesale from his Birth Narrative is not, therefore, especially convincing. Indeed like many arguments for Q, reflection on the evidence can lead in quite the opposite direction, in favor of Luke’s familiarity with Matthew. Perhaps Matthew’s Birth Narrative gave Luke the idea of writing a Birth Narrative of his own; perhaps it was the catalyst for Luke’s identical decision to preface Mark’s Gospel with an account featuring both prenatal (Matt 1 // Luke 1) and postnatal (Matt 2 // Luke 2) stories about Jesus. Because many readers are so familiar with the Birth Narratives, it is easy to assume that prefacing a Gospel with a Birth Narrative is a natural step to take, but neither Mark nor John thought that it was such an obvious thing to do and, all things considered, the presence of a Birth Narrative in Luke is probably a sign that Luke knows Matthew (op. cit., 57).

Or it is a sign that Matthew knew Luke.

In the same way, one Evangelist may have prompted the other to include a genealogy—something no other author of the New Testament chose to do.

The overall design of Matthew and Luke—the fact that they decided to expand on Mark in such similar ways—can thus be seen as further evidence that they were not writing independently.

 

Conclusion

The argument that the differences in the Infancy Narratives of Matthew and Luke show that they were writing independently of each other is utterly unconvincing.

It rests on the premises that the two Evangelists must have been ignorant of what they did not mention or that one would have found quoting material from the other’s Infancy Narrative irresistible.

Both of these premises are false. As their handling of Mark reveals, Matthew and Luke demonstrably left out Jesus traditions that they were aware of, and there are sound reasons why both could have chosen to omit the material found in the other’s Infancy Narrative. Chief among these reasons are the then-pressing need to save space (particularly for Matthew) and the need to serve the respective Jewish and Gentile audiences they were trying to reach.

Indeed, serving the needs of these audiences is likely the reason why multiple elements of the Infancy Narratives mirror each other, which would not be expected if the accounts were independent. This applies also to the twin genealogies of Jesus, whose inclusion in the New Testament is otherwise very perplexing.

These considerations—as well as the fact that they both chose to compose Gospels that expanded Mark using the same overall design—provide a compelling alternative to the Q hypothesis that must be taken seriously.

Understanding an Argument for Q

q-redThere is a clear literary relationship between three of the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

That’s why these three are known as the “synoptic” Gospels—because they offer a “shared view” of Jesus’ life (Greek, sun = “together” + opsis “seeing”).

The question of how they are related is known as the Synoptic Problem, and you can read my discussions of it here.

 

Which Evangelist Wrote First?

Through much of Church history, the dominant view has been that Matthew’s Gospel was the first to be written and that Mark either abbreviated Matthew or that Mark combined and abbreviated both Matthew and Luke.

After careful study, I would argue that neither of these proposals fits the evidence. Mark did not abbreviate Matthew (see here), nor did he combine and abbreviate Matthew and Luke (see here). Further, the earliest testimony we have—likely from one of the other authors of the New Testament—indicates that Mark wrote first (see here and here).

I therefore conclude that modern scholars are most likely correct when they argue that Mark wrote his Gospel first and Matthew and Luke used it as sources.

I am skeptical, however, of the claim of many modern scholars that Matthew and Luke also used another, now-lost, source known as Q (from the German word Quelle = “source,” though see F. F. Bruce, The New Testament Documents: Are They Reliable?, ch. 4, fn. 9).

 

Kinds of Material Found in the Synoptic Gospels

The fundamental reason that scholars propose the existence of a lost Q source is that the material in Matthew and Luke falls into one of four categories:

a)    Material that Matthew and Luke have in common with Mark

b)   Material that Matthew and Luke have in common with each other and that is not found in Mark.

c)    Material that Matthew alone has.

d)   Material that Luke alone has.

On the view that Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source, we can assume that both Evangelists derived the category (a) material from Mark.

The category (c) material, which is uniquely found in Matthew, must have come from sources unique to Matthew, and the same would be true for the category (d) material that is uniquely found in Luke.

But what about the category (b) material—the material in both Matthew and Luke that couldn’t have come from Mark, because it isn’t in Mark?

 

Explanations for the Material in the Synoptic Gospels

Scholars seem capable of proposing a limitless number of complex, convoluted ways that this material can be explained—involving a tangle of hypothetical sources and lost editions of the Gospels—but Occam’s Razor suggests that we not turn to these unless simpler explanations fail.

This makes our job easier because there are four, and only four, simple explanations for the category (b) material:

  1. Matthew and Luke got it from a hodgepodge of different sources, and it happened to end up in both Gospels by chance
  2. Matthew and Luke both got it (or most of it) from a common source, which is now lost
  3. Luke got it from Matthew
  4. Matthew got it from Luke

If the material that Matthew and Luke have uniquely in common amounted to only a few verses—perhaps a few sayings or stories of Jesus—then we might chalk this up to chance.

The difficulty with this view is that there is rather a lot of material in category (b): It amounts to around 235 verses, which is 22% of the verses in Matthew (1071 verses in total) and more than 20% of the verses in Luke (1151 verses in total). In both cases, the category (b) material amounts to more than a fifth of the respective Gospels.

This seems like too much material to attribute to random chance.

That points us to the possibilities that there is a lost source (dubbed Q), that Luke got the material from Matthew, or that Matthew got the material from Luke.

Why do modern scholars prefer the first of these proposals?

To some extent, it may be because of peer pressure. Around a hundred years ago, scholars began to prefer the first proposal—the Q hypothesis—and there was a snowball effect. They saw their peers adopting this proposal, and they naturally adopted it, too.

This tendency is sometimes called the bandwagon effect, and it is a known phenomenon in human psychology. However, that doesn’t mean that it is more likely to lead to the truth. Objectively, one still needs reasons to prefer the proposal favored by the majority to the alternative proposals.

So: Are there reasons to prefer the Q hypothesis to the alternatives that Luke got the material from Matthew or visa versa?

 

Christ’s Infancy and Resurrection

One way of trying to answer the question is to go through Matthew and Luke in minute detail—looking at the Greek text of individual verses to see what they tell us about the possibility that each of the proposals is correct.

This is an important task, but it requires a close reading of the Greek texts which is not easily accessible to the average reader. Many of the individual data points are also quite technical and debatable.

My preference here is to look at larger elements of the text which are found even in translations of the original language, such as modern English Bibles.

Even if we here put aside the details of individual verses, it is clear that there are certain passages in Matthew and Luke that could serve as tests for how the Synoptic Gospels were written.

These are the Infancy Narratives, which deal with Jesus’ birth and infancy (Matt. 1:8-2:23, Luke 1:5-52) and the Resurrection Narratives (Matt. 28:1-20, Luke 24:1-53).

The argument is that these two sections are so different from each other that Matthew and Luke did not know each other’s Gospels. In other words, if Luke knew Matthew (or visa versa) then he would not have written his Infancy Narrative or his Resurrection Narrative so differently from the other Gospel. They would have been more similar to each other.

A version of this argument is implicitly offered by Robert H. Stein, who writes:

One final argument that can be listed against the theory that Luke used the Gospel of Matthew as a source is the lack of M [i.e., category (c)] material in Luke. (The same type of argument can also be made for Matthew’s not having used Luke, i.e., the lack of any L [i.e., category (d)] material in Matthew.) . . . Why would Luke have omitted such material as the coming of the wise men (Matt. 2:1-12)? Would not the presence of such Gentiles at the birth of Jesus have been meaningful for Luke’s Gentile-oriented Gospel? Why would he have omitted the flight to Egypt and return to Nazareth (Matt. 2:13-23); the story of the guards at the tomb (Matt. 27:62-66) and their report (Matt. 28:11-15); the unique Matthean material concerning the resurrection (Matt. 28:9-10, 16-20); and so on? Added to this is the observation that if Luke had before him Matthew’s birth account and genealogy, one wonders if he would not have sought in some way to ‘harmonize’ the one we have in his Gospel with the Matthean version (The Synoptic Problem, 102).

I say that Stein’s version of the argument is implicit, because he does not note that each of his examples is drawn from either the Infancy Narratives or the Resurrection Narratives (a point made by Mark Goodacre; The Case Against Q, 55).

An argument from the Infancy and Resurrection Narratives is legitimate in principle. If one Evangelist used the other then we would expect there to be traces of that in his presentation of Christ’s infancy and resurrection. If we find no such traces then that suggests Matthew and Luke wrote independently. And, in that case, the material they have in common would most probably be attributed to a lost source (Q).

However, before adopting this conclusion, we need to ask whether the two narratives are really so different from each other, whether they can be explained by Luke using Matthew or Matthew using Luke, or whether there are reasons why one Evangelist would avoid using the other in these parts of his Gospel.

This we will do in the next two posts.

Up next . . .

Did Matthew Abbreviate Mark?

Saint-Matthew_This post presents the results of a test I recently did in my ongoing look at the Synoptic Problem.

In what follows, I will be testing the claim that if Matthew used Mark, he abbreviated the material he found in Mark. Note the “if,” because it’s important. I am not here arguing that he did use Mark. That’s a topic to be discussed elsewhere.

Here goes . . .

 

The Issue at Hand

An important perception among biblical scholars is that, if Matthew drew material from the Gospel of Mark, he seems to have abbreviated this material.

The presumable reason for this would be to allow Matthew to have space to fit in all the other material he wanted to add to Mark and still keep his own Gospel the size of a single volume (either a single scroll or a single codex).

In The Four Gospels, B. H. Streeter gives several examples of how Matthew (apparently) shortened different sections or pericopes (per-IH-ko-PEES) of Mark. He notes how Matthew’s versions have fewer words in Greek than the corresponding pericopes in Mark.

However, in his book The Tendencies of the Synoptic Tradition, E. P. Sanders claimed that Matthew does not consistently shorten material from Mark. If you look at all the pericopes Matthew and Mark have in common, they’re fairly even in terms of overall word count. Matthew’s total word count for these pericopes is slightly shorter than Mark’s, but not by much, and most of the difference is grouped in just a handful of pericopes (see The Tendencies of the Synoptic Tradition, 82-87).

This, however, doesn’t strike me as the optimal test: Doing a straight pericope-to-pericope test could be misleading, since Matthew adds material from his own sources to pericopes.

For example, in the account of the Testing in the Wilderness, Mark has only a brief note that the event took place, but he doesn’t describe it in detail. Matthew does; he has the three “temptations” that the devil presents Christ with.

A better test, it occurred to me, would be to eliminate Matthew’s additions (like the three temptations) and see if we find that he shortened what remains.

Unfortunately, Sanders didn’t do this kind of test. Also unfortunately, I don’t know anybody else who has done this kind of test, either.

 

Why This Is Important

In Synoptic Problem studies, a good deal hinges on whether Matthew would have abbreviated the material he took from Mark, because that gives us a clue to the order of the two Gospels.

It’s much more likely, given the way ancient authors worked, that Matthew would have consistently tightened up Mark’s text than for Mark to consistently expand Matthew’s text in a sentence-by-sentence manner.

Therefore, if Matthew’s material looks like a tightened up version of Mark’s, Mark probably wrote first.

In view of the importance of the question at hand, I wanted to find the answer.

Fortunately, I realized that I had the tools available to do the test myself.

 

The Tools

Some time ago I began developing a synopsis of the four Gospels that presents both the English and the Greek text of each one in parallel columns.

(It’s not yet published, since I’m still adding new features to it, but I hope to publish it in the future.)

To develop this synopsis, I loaded the Greek and English text into a spreadsheet (Microsoft Excel) and matched the text up verse-by-verse. (Of course, the verse divisions, like the pericope divisions scholars use, are not in the original text, but they are useful.)

The advantage of having the material in a spreadsheet is that I’m able to sort and manipulate the synopsis in various ways that can’t be done with a synopsis printed on paper.

These sorting capabilities, I realized, would let me do the kind of test I wanted to do on Matthew and Mark. Using Excel, it shouldn’t be difficult to isolate the material needed from the two Gospels and then do a word count on the Greek text.

Excel doesn’t have a good word count tool (that I know of), but Microsoft Word does. (N.B. Although Greek has diacritical marks which could, in some character encodings, cause Word to think there were more words than there are, this would have applied to both texts equally and the overall result would remain valid. However, I verified that I was not using one of those character encodings so the word count should be accurate.)

Therefore, all I had to do was isolate the relevant material, paste the Greek text into Word, and see what the resulting word count was.

So I did the test.

 

Pass 1 of the Test

To isolate the relevant material, I took the following steps:

  1. I made a copy of the spreadsheet so I could manipulate it without harming the original.
  2. I struck all material related to Luke and John.
  3. I struck the longer ending of Mark (since it likely was not original and not what Matthew had in front of him).
  4. I struck all the pericopes in Mark that have no parallel in Matthew (allowing a pericope-to-pericope comparison)
  5. I struck all of the verses that Matthew contained which have no parallels in Mark. This represents the additions that Matthew would have made to Mark (thus allowing a more refined pericope-to-pericope test than the one Sanders did).
  6. I then pasted the resulting Greek text from both Gospels into Word.

Results:

  • Matthew: 8,114 words
  • Mark: 10,542 words

If Matthew used Mark, it would seem that he abbreviated the pericopes he used by 2,428 words or 23%, dropping almost one in four words.

 

Pass 2 of the Test

Although the above results should be the best way to look at the problem, a potential objection occurred to me: The above selection of material includes verses in Mark that Matthew would have omitted entirely.

It seems to me that these verses should be counted in the test (as in Pass 1). There is nothing to say that, in selecting material from Mark, Matthew couldn’t delete entire verses within a pericope. Indeed, the evidence indicates that he would have.

However, just to go the extra mile (to bend a phrase from Matthew 5:41), I decided to do a second pass of the test, eliminating the verses in Mark that had no parallel in Matthew (even though the pericopes that contained them did have a parallel in Matthew).

My prediction, if Matthew was shortening Mark, was that the Matthew material would still contain fewer words (since Matthew was tightening things up within verses as well as by deleting verses) though the result would be less pronounced.

Results:

  • Matthew: 8,114 words
  • Mark: 8,569 words

Thus if we compare just the verses that have direct parallels in both Gospels, it would seem that Matthew abbreviated these verses by 455 words or 5%, dropping about one word in twenty as he tightened up the text (aside from the whole verses he dropped).

 

Summary Thus Far

On both versions of the test, the data supports the conclusion that if Matthew used Mark, he abbreviated the material he took from it.

This is particularly clear on the better version of the test (Pass 1), but also true on the “go the extra mile” version of the test (Pass 2).

The difference in the results of the two passes indicates that Matthew would have done much of his abbreviation by dropping the contents of entire verses, while also tightening up the contents of the verses he retained.

The versions of the test that I did are a pair of rough-and-ready assessments that depended significantly on computers. A more refined, human-based, and scholarly version of this test could be performed in the future, but the results are likely to be the same in substance.

 

Verses Matthew Would Have Added to Mark’s Pericopes

Let’s complete our look at the issue by examining the verses that Matthew would have added to the pericopes he shares with Mark.

If the hypothesis is correct that Matthew abbreviated what he took from Mark to help make room for the additional information he wanted to add to his Gospel, we should find that most of the verses he added within these pericopes should be independently-sourced, value-added verses, providing new information rather than just restating what should be obvious or paraphrasing Mark in a somewhat wordier way.

By my count, there are 149 such verses. They are listed below, and you can see what they say by hovering your mouse over the individual verse citations.

 

Prophetic Fulfillments

Matthew is very interested in showing that Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecy.

As a result, it is not surprising that he would have added notes regarding how Jesus did so to pericopes he found in Mark. By my count, there would be 16 verses of this material:

  1. Matt. 4:14
  2. Matt. 4:15
  3. Matt. 4:16
  4. Matt. 8:17
  5. Matt. 12:17
  6. Matt. 12:18
  7. Matt. 12:19
  8. Matt. 12:20
  9. Matt. 12:21
  10. Matt. 13:14
  11. Matt. 13:15
  12. Matt. 13:35
  13. Matt. 21:4
  14. Matt. 21:5
  15. Matt. 27:9
  16. Matt. 27:10

For Matthew, these prophetic fulfillment notices counted as value-added content for the audience he was trying to reach, which particularly included Jewish Christians who would be specially interested in how Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecy.

 

Double Tradition (“Q”) Material

Additional value-added material is found in what is known as the “double tradition.”

This material also was seen as valuable by the Evangelist Luke, who also included it in his Gospel (hence “double tradition,” because it is found in two Gospels).

One question is where this material came from. Did Luke get it from Matthew? Did Matthew get it from Luke? Or did they both get it from a now lost source? Many modern scholars think the latter, and they have dubbed the proposed, lost source “Q.”

There are about 235 verses of the double tradition material in Matthew and Luke, but only some of them occur in the pericopes that Matthew would have taken from Mark.

To establish which ones, I compared these pericopes with the verses attributed to the double tradition in the International Q Project’s work, The Critical Edition of Q (Robinson, Hoffmann, Kloppenborg, ed.s). This may be deemed a neutral source in that it was not formulated with respect to the hypothesis we are presently testing.

By this reckoning, Matthew would have added about 42 verses of double tradition material to the pericopes he used from Mark:

  1. Matt. 3:7
  2. Matt. 3:8
  3. Matt. 3:9
  4. Matt. 3:10
  5. Matt. 3:12
  6. Matt. 4:3
  7. Matt. 4:4
  8. Matt. 4:5
  9. Matt. 4:6
  10. Matt. 4:7
  11. Matt. 4:8
  12. Matt. 4:9
  13. Matt. 4:10
  14. Matt. 4:13
  15. Matt. 5:13
  16. Matt. 10:6
  17. Matt. 10:7
  18. Matt. 10:8
  19. Matt. 10:15
  20. Matt. 10:16
  21. Matt. 10:19
  22. Matt. 10:24
  23. Matt. 10:25
  24. Matt. 12:27
  25. Matt. 12:28
  26. Matt. 12:30
  27. Matt. 12:32
  28. Matt. 13:16
  29. Matt. 13:17
  30. Matt. 15:14
  31. Matt. 16:3*
  32. Matt. 18:6
  33. Matt. 18:7
  34. Matt. 21:32*
  35. Matt. 24:26
  36. Matt. 24:27
  37. Matt. 24:28
  38. Matt. 24:37
  39. Matt. 24:38
  40. Matt. 24:39
  41. Matt. 24:40
  42. Matt. 24:41

(* The International Q Project lists these two verses as possibly but not definitely being part of Q in their estimation.)

Between this material and the prophetic fulfillments, so far 58 of the 149 verses that Matthew added to Markan pericopes would be independently-sourced and value-added.

 

Other New Traditions

Of course, the Old Testament and the double tradition were not Matthew’s only sources besides his proposed use of Mark. In addition to the above, there are at least 47 verses in which Matthew seems to have drawn on additional material from his own sources (eyewitness memory or otherwise):

  1. Matt. 5:14
  2. Matt. 5:16
  3. Matt. 10:12
  4. Matt. 10:13
  5. Matt. 10:17
  6. Matt. 10:18
  7. Matt. 10:20
  8. Matt. 10:21
  9. Matt. 10:22
  10. Matt. 10:23
  11. Matt. 12:7
  12. Matt. 12:11
  13. Matt. 12:12
  14. Matt. 12:22
  15. Matt. 13:12
  16. Matt. 14:28
  17. Matt. 14:29
  18. Matt. 14:30
  19. Matt. 14:31
  20. Matt. 15:12
  21. Matt. 15:13
  22. Matt. 16:2 (* This verse is plausibly grouped with a possible double tradition or “Q” saying in Matt. 16:3; otherwise the two verses would both belong to this list.)
  23. Matt. 16:17
  24. Matt. 16:18
  25. Matt. 16:19
  26. Matt. 18:10
  27. Matt. 19:10
  28. Matt. 19:11
  29. Matt. 19:12
  30. Matt. 21:28
  31. Matt. 21:29
  32. Matt. 21:30
  33. Matt. 21:31
  34. Matt. 24:10
  35. Matt. 24:11
  36. Matt. 24:12
  37. Matt. 26:52
  38. Matt. 27:3
  39. Matt. 27:4
  40. Matt. 27:5
  41. Matt. 27:6
  42. Matt. 27:7
  43. Matt. 27:8
  44. Matt. 27:19
  45. Matt. 27:52
  46. Matt. 27:53
  47. Matt. 28:4

Adding these verses to the preceding, 105 of the 149 verses that Matthew added to Markan pericopes would seem to be independently-sourced, value-added material for him.

 

Possible Extrapolations

We now come to the most problematic of our categories, which consists of material that Matthew may have been able to extrapolate from what he had before him in Mark but that also could have derived from his own sources (including eyewitness memory or other testimony).

Much of this material deals with reactions, such as how different persons or groups reacted to what Jesus said and did.

If Matthew derived it from his own sources, then it would properly be grouped with the material in the other categories we have examined—particularly, the previous category, as independent material that Matthew saw as adding value to his narrative.

If he extrapolated the material from what he found in Mark, this also added value, but in a different way—for example, helping bring out the deeper significance of what happened in particular incidents in Jesus’ ministry.

It would not, however, represent the addition of new material to Markan pericopes in the way the previous three categories would have.

By my count, there are up to 37 verses that could belong to this category.

How many you think should belong to it will depend on how much freedom you think Matthew allowed himself to extrapolate from his sources.

My own feeling is that some of this material was likely derived from independent sources (meaning that, in the ideal, it should be reclassified into one of the above categories, particularly the previous one) but that some of it would have been extrapolated from Mark.

However, for purposes of testing our hypothesis that Matthew abbreviated Mark to include value-added material, I have been as generous as possible with the extrapolation hypothesis, thus erring on the side of Matthew extrapolating from Mark.

Here are the 37 verses:

  1. Matt. 3:2
  2. Matt. 3:14
  3. Matt. 3:15
  4. Matt. 9:26
  5. Matt. 12:5
  6. Matt. 12:6
  7. Matt. 12:23
  8. Matt. 15:23
  9. Matt. 15:24
  10. Matt. 15:25
  11. Matt. 15:31
  12. Matt. 16:12
  13. Matt. 16:27
  14. Matt. 17:6
  15. Matt. 17:7
  16. Matt. 17:13
  17. Matt. 18:3
  18. Matt. 18:4
  19. Matt. 21:10
  20. Matt. 21:11
  21. Matt. 21:20
  22. Matt. 21:43
  23. Matt. 21:46
  24. Matt. 22:33
  25. Matt. 22:38
  26. Matt. 22:40
  27. Matt. 22:46
  28. Matt. 26:25
  29. Matt. 26:44
  30. Matt. 26:50
  31. Matt. 26:53
  32. Matt. 27:21
  33. Matt. 27:25
  34. Matt. 27:26
  35. Matt. 27:43
  36. Matt. 28:2
  37. Matt. 28:3

Because of the ambiguous nature of this material, we cannot establish a definite number of verses that would have independently-sourced, value-added material.

If none of these verses were counted that way, we would still have 105 of 149 verses being independently-sourced, value-added material.

If all of them were counted that way then we would have 141 of 149 verses counted that way.

The truth is likely between these two figures.

 

Bridging Material

Our final category is what I am calling bridging material. These are verses that are likely extrapolated by Matthew to bridge one section of his narrative with another, based on what he had in front of him in Mark.

For example, Matthew 26:1 reads, “When Jesus had finished all these sayings, he said to his disciples. . . .” This bridges the end of the sayings discourse in Matthew 23-25 with the material that follows it in chapter 26. It is thus something Matthew likely derived neither from Mark (because it isn’t there) nor from other, independent sources but was extrapolated for literary purposes to bridge one section of his narrative with another.

By my reckoning, there are 7 such verses in the pericopes that Matthew would have taken from Mark:

  1. Matt. 8:1
  2. Matt. 13:18
  3. Matt. 14:18
  4. Matt. 15:29
  5. Matt. 22:34
  6. Matt. 26:1
  7. Matt. 27:36

With a high degree of probability, these represent verses that Matthew did not derive from independent sources but used to bridge material he found in Mark with other sections of his narrative.

They do not, however, affect the totals arrived at above: It would still appear that between 105 and 141 of the 149 verses that Matthew added to the Markan pericopes he used came from independent, value-adding sources.

 

Conclusion

While scholars might argue with the specific numbers offered above, it remains true that Matthew would have added between approximately 105 and 141 independently-sourced, value-added verses among the approximately 149 verses he would have added to the Markan pericopes he used.

In view of this, Matthew would not have extrapolated enough material from what he found in Mark to overturn the conclusion arrived in the first part of our test: It still appears that Matthew significantly shortened the material he found in Mark to include independently-sourced, value-added material.

Future research may change the numbers involved somewhat, but it is unlikely to change the fundamental conclusion.

Is God showing us a fictional past?

Wouldn’t it be great if scientists invented a device that enabled us to have a window into the past–so that we wouldn’t just have to read about the past in books?

Instead, with the new device–let’s call it a Time Window–we could actually see events occurring in the past in real time, with our own eyes?

That would be awesome, wouldn’t it?

The exciting news is that scientists have invented this device!

That’s right! The Time Window is real!

What’s more, they invented it just over 400 years ago, so they’ve had the chance to mature the technology to the point that now it’s really, really good.

For comparison, imagine how good an iPhone would be today if Steve Jobs had invented the first one 400 years ago.

The only problem is that they missed a great marketing opportunity.

Instead of calling it the Time Window ™ they gave it a much more boring name . . . the telescope.

 

How the Time Window Works

The reason that the Time Window–er, telescope–lets us look into the past and see it with our own eyes is that it takes time for light to reach our eyes. The speed of light is not infinite.

Technically, this means that any time you see anything, you are technically witnessing something that happened in the past.

Since light travels so fast, however, if you see someone across the room pick up an iPhone, that happened only the tiniest fraction of a second ago. In fact, you started seeing it while it was still happening. That’s not long enough ago to make it an exciting glimpse into history.

But things get more interesting when you take a telescope and point it at something really distant.

 

By Jove!

For example, back in 1609, Galileo Galilei pointed his telescope at the planet Jove–er, Jupiter–and discovered that by it there were several moons.

Now the thing is, depending on where Earth and Jupiter are in their orbits, Jupiter is between 33 and 54 light minutes away from Earth.

Let’s just say it’s an average of 44 light minutes away for the sake of simplicity.

That means, it takes 44 minutes for the light from Jupiter to reach an astronomer on Earth.

So when Galileo looked at Jupiter through his telescopes and saw its moons, he was seeing where those moons were 44 minutes ago.

He was viewing actual history that occurred 44 minutes in the past!

Woo-hoo!

 

Party Like It’s 1879!

The same thing keeps happening when you look further out.

Back in 2008, scientists used one of their spiffy modern telescopes to capture the light in this image . . .

This is an image of the solar system HR 8799.

It’s got a single star in the middle, and we can see that it has at least three planets orbiting it.

What’s more, it’s 129 light years away from Earth.

That means that this image, which was taken in 2008, is of events taking place in 1879.

This is an image of where those planets were in the year that the apparition at Knock, Ireland took place, that the California Constitution was ratified, and that Thomas Edison unveiled incandescent light to the public.

It’s an image of things happening in that year.

Now let’s look really far into the past . . .

 

An Earth-Shattering Ka-Boom

Also in 2008, astronomers captured an image of a supernova known as SN 2008D.

Here’s a time-lapse image of the supernova happening, both in x-rays and visible light. Take a moment and watch it:

Hoo-eee! It blowed up real good! (Particularly in x-rays.)

Now here’s the thing: SD 2008D is in the galaxy NGC 2770, which is in the constellation Lynx.

It’s also 88,000,000 (88 million) light years away.

That means that when you’re watching the supernova explode in the images above, You Are Watching an Event That Took Place 88 Million Years in the Past.

That’s right. Dinosaurs were roaming the earth when this event took place. It was the middle of the Cretaceous Era.

 

So What’s This Have to Do with God? 

Historically, many people have thought that the universe was only a few thousand years old, based on the most common understanding of Genesis.

Modern science has suggested that it is much, much older.

If the above picture reveals an event that took place 88,000,000 years ago, then the view that the universe is only a few thousand years old can’t be right.

So what alternatives do we have in resolving this situation?

Here are three . . .

 

Option 1: We’re Really, Really Wrong

One option would be to say that we are really–desperately–wrong in our understanding of science today.

Either light doesn’t travel at the speed we think it does or SN 2008D isn’t as far away as we think it is–or something.

This cannot be ruled out on theoretical grounds. The best scientific thought of the day has turned out to be really, really wrong before.

But how likely is this?

At this point we seem to have very, very good evidence about the age and dimensions of the cosmos, about how fast light travels and how far away things like supernovas are.

 

Option 2: God Is Showing Us Fictions

Another option would be to say that, when the world began a few thousand years ago, God created light already en route from what appeared to be more distant galaxies.

If that’s the case, then any event we see that appears to be happening more than a few thousand light years away is a fiction.

Beyond a certain point, we’re watching God’s Imaginary Astronomy Show.

Mixed in with God’s Real Astronomy Show that’s taking place closer to home.

Hmmm.

That doesn’t seem consistent with God’s Truthfulness.

At a minimum, an advocate of this view would need to provide an explanation for why God would do this, why it wouldn’t be inconsistent with his Truthfulness.

Some have tried to mount such an explanation by saying that God created the world with an “appearance of age,” the same way that he created Adam and Eve as full-grown adults rather than babies.

That is the way Genesis seems to depict the creation of our first parents, since they are both apparently created on Day 6 of the creation week in Genesis 1, and since they are married as soon as Eve is created in the second creation narrative in Genesis 2.

If you think that God used evolution to make the bodies of the first humans (of course, he made their souls directly and immediately) then this issue doesn’t arise–at least not in the same way.

But what if you think that God literally created an adult Adam out of earth and an adult Eve out of Adam’s side? Does that provide much support for the “appearance of age” explanation of distant astronomical events?

I have never thought so.

It’s always seemed to me that, if God were to directly create the first humans as adults, there would be a very good reason for that–namely: Babies Cannot Take Care of Themselves.

Without the presence of other humans–or near-humans–to take care of our first parents, they would need to be adults (or at least teens). Either that, or God would have to run his own, direct daycare service, and Genesis doesn’t suggest that he did.

So I can see a reason why God would make the first humans as adults. That’s because of the incapacity to care for themselves that human infants have.

But that doesn’t give us any reason why God would need to plant false dinosaur bones in the ground or false astronomical images in the sky, let alone mix them up with real ones.

He could have just let God’s Real Astronomy Show play in the sky each night.

The sky wouldn’t have had quite as much stuff in it each night, but it would all have been true stuff.

 

Option 3: God’s Word in the Heavens and in the Bible Is True

The best approach would seem to be the classic one of saying that God’s word in nature and God’s word in the Bible are both true.

They have to be understood in harmony with each other.

Thus if we have good evidence from God’s word in nature that the universe is quite old then that helps shed light on the meaning of God’s word in the Scriptures.

This is the approach taken by the Catholic Church.

Concerning the creation narrative in Genesis 1, John Paul II stated:

Above all, this text has a religious and theological importance. It doesn’t contain significant elements from the point of view of the natural sciences. Research on the origin and development of the individual species in nature does not find in this description any definitive norm [General Audience, Jan. 29, 1986].

And the Catechism of the Catholic Church states:

283 The question about the origins of the world and of man has been the object of many scientific studies which have splendidly enriched our knowledge of the age and dimensions of the cosmos, the development of life-forms and the appearance of man.

These discoveries invite us to even greater admiration for the greatness of the Creator, prompting us to give him thanks for all his works and for the understanding and wisdom he gives to scholars and researchers.

With Solomon they can say: “It is he who gave me unerring knowledge of what exists, to know the structure of the world and the activity of the elements. . . for wisdom, the fashioner of all things, taught me.”

And:

337 God himself created the visible world in all its richness, diversity and order. Scripture presents the work of the Creator symbolically as a succession of six days of divine “work”, concluded by the “rest” of the seventh day.

On the subject of creation, the sacred text teaches the truths revealed by God for our salvation, permitting us to “recognize the inner nature, the value and the ordering of the whole of creation to the praise of God.”

Having said that, I’m looking forward to seeing more events from distant history–with my own eyes–through the amazing Time Window! (Er, telescope.)

What’s the relationship between the twelve tribes and the twelve apostles?

question-markA reader writes:

Does the Church teach of any parallel between the 12 Apostles and the 12 tribes of Israel?

I don’t know of a Church document that stresses this connection off the top of my head, though there probably are some that do. It is generally acknowledged among Bible scholars that the New Testament draws clear parallels between the twelve apostles and the twelve tribes–and, more specifically, with the twelve patriarchs (sons of Jacob/Israel) who were the progenitors of the twelve tribes.

By appointing twelve apostles, Jesus clearly indicated his intention to establish the Christian community as a New Israel, without depriving the original Israel of its place in God’s plan.

Does each Apostle represent a separate tribe or a characteristic associated with the tribe?

So far as we know, the twelve apostles correspond to the twelve patriarchs/tribes only in a generic manner. We can’t match each of them up one-to-one.

Also, are the Apostles the inhabitants of the twelve thrones of judgement for the tribes?

Without excluding the idea that there will be other thrones of judgment, Jesus does say that the apostles will sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Matt. 19:28, Luke 22:29-30).

Lastly, do many faithful Jewish people still know their tribe ancestry or is that knowledge long gone?

At this point, no. Most Jewish people do not know their specific tribal ancestry, though most would be descended from Judah, Benjamin, or Simeon (the southern tribes).

An exception is the tribe of Levi. Jewish people with names like Cohen (“priest”), Levi (“Levite”), etc., are generally thought to derive from the tribe of Levi and–in the case of Cohens–to be descendants of the priestly line of that tribe. They thus can have special roles in the synagogue liturgy.

Conscience and Communion

holy communionThere is a good bit of conversation about how conscience may play a role in the question of whether divorced and civilly remarried Catholics can receive Holy Communion.

For example, Chicago’s Archbishop Blase Cupich discussed the subject at a press briefing in Rome during the synod of bishops.

What the archbishop said or was trying to say is not entirely clear to me from the quotations I’ve seen in the press, and I do not wish to speculate based on incomplete press accounts.

I have, however, received a number of queries about the role of conscience in this area, and a brief look at the question may be in order.

 

1) Acknowledging past abuses

Some people immediately become suspicious whenever the word “conscience” is brought up in connection with controversial moral subjects.

That’s understandable. The concept has been much abused.

After Paul VI’s 1968 encyclical Humanae Vitae there was a huge push to justify dissent from the Church’s teaching on contraception using conscience as a guise.

Dissidents were turning Jiminy Cricket’s slogan “Always let your conscience be your guide” into “Always let conscience be your guise.”

This is one of the reasons why the word “conscience” appears more than a hundred times in John Paul II’s 1993 encyclical Veritatis Splendor and why the Catechism of the Catholic Church has a lengthy section specially devoted to conscience.

The concept has been profoundly abused.

And it’s no surprise that many become suspicious whenever conscience comes up in a moral controversy.

On the other hand, not every invocation of conscience is contrary to Church teaching. So what does the Church teach?

 

2) The primacy of conscience

It is often stressed that one must obey one’s conscience. This can be a tactical dodge to justify rejection of Church teaching, but it is not necessarily so.

The Church agrees that one must obey one’s conscience. The Catechism states:

A human being must always obey the certain judgment of his conscience. If he were deliberately to act against it, he would condemn himself [CCC 1790].

In other words, it is a sin to defy a certain judgment of your conscience. If you are certain that you must not do something and you do it anyway, you are sinning by violating your conscience. You are similarly sinning if you are certain that you must do something and you refuse to do it.

Notice that this applies when you are certain. If you are uncertain, the situation can be different.

Even when you are certain, that doesn’t mean that the judgment of your conscience is right. The Catechism continues:

Yet it can happen that moral conscience remains in ignorance and makes erroneous judgments about acts to be performed or already committed.

What happens when a person’s conscience is wrong? Does that mean he’s off scot-free?

 

3) Personal responsibility and erroneous conscience

The Catechism states:

This ignorance can often be imputed to personal responsibility. This is the case when a man “takes little trouble to find out what is true and good, or when conscience is by degrees almost blinded through the habit of committing sin.” In such cases, the person is culpable for the evil he commits [CCC 1791].

So saying that you are acting in accord with your conscience doesn’t protect you from the charge that you are sinning—and culpable for doing so. If, through your own fault, you have warped your conscience then you are still responsible.

What if your conscience is mistaken but through no fault of your own?

If—on the contrary—the ignorance is invincible, or the moral subject is not responsible for his erroneous judgment, the evil committed by the person cannot be imputed to him. It remains no less an evil, a privation, a disorder. One must therefore work to correct the errors of moral conscience [CCC 1793].

In this case, you aren’t culpable for your actions, but they are still evil.

 

4) Conscience and Communion

Prior to receiving Holy Communion, every person needs to examine his conscience:

To respond to this invitation we must prepare ourselves for so great and so holy a moment. St. Paul urges us to examine our conscience: “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a man examine himself, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself” [1 Cor 11:27-29]. Anyone conscious of a grave sin must receive the sacrament of Reconciliation before coming to Communion [CCC 1385].

This applies to people who are divorced and civilly remarried as much as anyone else.

 

5) Properly Formed Conscience on Civil Remarriage and Communion

What should a person who has divorced and civilly remarried conclude when he makes this examination of conscience? The Catechism states:

Today there are numerous Catholics in many countries who have recourse to civil divorce and contract new civil unions. In fidelity to the words of Jesus Christ—“Whoever divorces his wife and marries another, commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery” [Mk 10:11-12]. The Church maintains that a new union cannot be recognized as valid, if the first marriage was. If the divorced are remarried civilly, they find themselves in a situation that objectively contravenes God’s law. Consequently, they cannot receive eucharistic Communion as long as this situation persists. For the same reason, they cannot exercise certain ecclesial responsibilities. Reconciliation through the sacrament of Penance can be granted only to those who have repented for having violated the sign of the covenant and of fidelity to Christ, and who are committed to living in complete continence [CCC 1650].

A person with a properly formed conscience will conclude that he cannot receive Communion until he has addressed his situation properly.

 

6) Erroneous Conscience on Civil Remarriage and Communion

Based on the above, a civilly remarried person not living chastely would be unable to receive Communion, and so his conscience would be erroneous if it told him that he could. What are the implications of this?

As we’ve seen, if “the ignorance is invincible, or the moral subject is not responsible for his erroneous judgment, the evil committed by the person cannot be imputed to him.” He thus would not be personally culpable for receiving Communion. However, “it remains no less an evil” for him to do so (CCC 1793).

However, the ignorance responsible for a person’s erroneous conscience “can often be imputed to personal responsibility. . . . In such cases, the person is culpable for the evil he commits” (CCC 1791).

 

7) Pastoral Care and Erroneous Conscience

What would appropriate pastoral care be for persons in this situation who have an erroneous conscience?

If the individual is not personally culpable for receiving Communion, it remains objectively evil for him to do so, and thus the Catechism states “one must therefore work to correct the errors of moral conscience” (CCC 1793). The Catechism’s statement could be taken to mean that one must work to correct one’s own errors, but since the pastors of the Church have an obligation to assist the faithful in forming their conscience, they share in this obligation as well.

If the individual is personally culpable for receiving Communion then the matter is even more urgent. Not only is he committing an objectively evil act but he is culpable for doing so—eating and drinking judgment upon himself, in St. Paul’s words—and the pastors of the Church need to take effective action to address the situation.

Thus in both cases—whether the person is culpable or not—it is not sufficient to simply say, “The person is following his conscience” and leave it at that. If it is an erroneous conscience, the pastors of the Church must work to correct it.

This is particularly so in light of what the Catechism has to say about common causes of errors in moral judgment:

Ignorance of Christ and his Gospel, bad example given by others, enslavement to one’s passions, assertion of a mistaken notion of autonomy of conscience, rejection of the Church’s authority and her teaching, lack of conversion and of charity: these can be at the source of errors of judgment in moral conduct [CCC 1792].

Since “rejection of the Church’s authority and her teaching” is one of the known causes of erroneous conscience, pastors of the Church must combat this by issuing calls to accept the Church’s authority and teaching (as well as explaining the reasons for doing so).

Further, simply concluding that a person is acting on his conscience and leaving the matter fosters precisely the “mistaken notion of autonomy of conscience” that the Catechism warns against.

And there is another reason why the matter cannot simply be left up to conscience . . .

 

8) Civil Remarriage, Communion, and Canon Law

The Code of Canon Law contains a provision which applies in this situation:

Those who have been excommunicated or interdicted after the imposition or declaration of the penalty and others obstinately persevering in manifest grave sin are not to be admitted to holy Communion [CIC 915].

Note that this canon does not have the qualifier “unless they are acting on their conscience.”

What it specifies for the denial of Communion is “obstinately persevering in manifest grave sin.”

Couples who have civilly remarried are presumed to be sleeping together and thus committing grave sin, unless they are known to be living chastely. If their civilly remarried status is known in their community then the presumed state of grave sin is manifest. And if their pastor has warned them about their situation and they do nothing to address it then they are obstinately persevering in it. In such a circumstance—the way canon law is presently written—the pastor is obliged to refuse Communion.

There is thus a canonical requirement constraining pastoral action in addition to the theological ones discussed above.