Visualizing Q

q-narrative-vs-sayings - CopyThere are 235 verses in Matthew that are paralleled in Luke but not in Mark or John.

This number represents more than a fifth of Matthew and Luke, and so some scholars have proposed that there was a written source—called Q—that both Evangelists drew upon, though it is now lost.

There are, of course, other possibilities. One is that Matthew simply used Luke; another is that Luke used Matthew.

It is possible that they both used a lost written source for this material, but there are reasons to question this.

A while back, I blogged about one such reason.

Now I’d like to use a visual means of making the same point and to advance it further.

 

The Basic Argument

The argument I made before was based on one posed by New Testament scholar Mark Goodacre (see his book The Case Against Q: Studies in Markan Priority and the Synoptic Problem, 170-185).

Scholars who advocate the existence of Q frequently state that it was a “sayings gospel,” because the material in it largely consists of sayings of Jesus.

They then place it in the same category as other sayings collections, like the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas.

But Goodacre points out that, if it existed, Q would not have been simply a collection of sayings. Instead, it has narrative passages (passages that recount events rather than simply sayings).

Q thus would not parallel Thomas or other ancient sayings collections.

 

Visualizing the Phenomenon

In my previous post, I listed a number of narrative elements that Goodacre identified in the Q material.

Now I would like to visualize the way that this material shifts back and forth between narrative and sayings.

To do this, I used a copy of The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas With English, German and French Translations of Q and … & Historical Commentary on the Bible), edited by James Robinson, Paul Hoffmann, and John Kloppenborg.

Several years ago, this trio of scholars led an international team that attempted to establish the original text of Q, in its original order, to the extent that this can be done by present scholarship.

The Critical Edition of Q is a useful text for studies of the Synoptic Problem because it is a consensus text that does not rest on the work of any single scholar. As a result, it can be used as a neutral reference point for testing hypotheses about Q, because the question of whether a single scholar has biased the selection of texts in favor of his hypothesis does not arise.

The scholars who produced The Critical Edition of Q identified 92 passages that they think were or likely were in Q.

I typed these passages into a spreadsheet and then classified them based on whether they involved significant narrative elements, sayings, or something that could be regarded either way.

I also counted the number of verses in each passage and assigned a color to the three categories, as follows:

  • Red: Narrative
  • Orange: Mixed
  • Yellow: Saying

For something to classify as more than just a saying, it had to involve more than just a note that Jesus responded to something that someone said. The reason is that in the Gospel of Thomas Jesus occasionally responds to things that people said, and I wanted to show that Q involves narrative elements that go beyond those found in the Gospel of Thomas.

Using these classifications, I then created an image consisting of colored bars whose widths are based on the number of verses in these sections.

This is the image that resulted . . .

 

An Image of Q?

q-narrative-vs-sayings

If you want to see the results of my study as an image in spreadsheet form, click here.

Here, in sequence, is what the colored bars represent.

Bar 1 (red): This bar, at the left of the image, represents 24 verses that are all at the beginning of Q and that have narrative elements. This section includes the ministry of John the Baptist, the Baptism of Jesus, the Temptation, and a reference to Jesus going to “Nazara.”

Bar 2 (yellow): This represents 26 verses of sayings material. The material is found in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew and the Sermon on the Plain in Luke.

Bar 3 (red): This represents 6 verses. It contains the story of the Healing of the Centurion’s Servant.

Bar 4 (orange): This represents 19 verses. It includes the question that John the Baptist sends to Jesus by his disciples, Jesus testimony about John, the reaction of the people to Jesus’ testimony, and Jesus discussion of the present generation in light of the way John and he have been treated. It also includes Jesus’ interactions with several individuals who end up not following him.

I classified this material as “mixed” because you could look at it either as involving significant narrative elements or simply as sayings with minimal narrative elements.

While it consists principally of sayings, the John the Baptist material involves the coming and going of John’s disciples, which can be considered narrative. It also harks back to Jesus’ earlier interaction with John, in which John identified Jesus as a major figure in God’s plan. Now John asks if he was correct in that assessment, making this a continuation of the previous encounter—and thus part of a larger, overarching story about Jesus and John.

Finally, the interactions of Jesus with the people who don’t end up following him could be considered narrative.

I think that there is a good case for classifying this material—or at least the material involving John the Baptist—as narrative, but since it is principally in the form of sayings, I left it orange.

Bar 5 (yellow): This represents 11 verses in which Jesus gives the disciples instructions about a preaching mission that they are to go on—how to conduct themselves, what to bring, etc.

This material is all sayings, so I left it yellow, but I think it could justifiably be colored orange or even red, because the instructions that Jesus gives the disciples about their mission suggests that they went on such a mission and later returned from it, just as we read in Luke 10:17.

If Q contained material about the departure or return of the disciples then this would create forward movement, narratively speaking, and earn an orange or red classification.

Bar 6 (orange): This represents 3 verses in which Jesus pronounces woe on various towns in Galilee.

I classified this as orange because, although it is in the saying form, it implies visits to the named towns in which Jesus encountered opposition, and Q could have contained prior references to Jesus encountering such opposition.

Even if it didn’t, the references to these towns imply visits and thus situate Jesus’ activities in a geographical way that takes us beyond abstract philosophical/theological sayings.

Bar 7 (yellow): This represents 147 verses that consist of sayings without significant narrative elements.

 

Implications

You may or may not agree with my classifications. Indeed, I think that some of them—particularly some elements in Bars 4-6—could be classified differently.

However, even if we assume the classification most favorable to Q, where everything that is not red should be classified as yellow, something very interesting emerges.

It isn’t only that Q switches between narrative and sayings material, as Goodacre pointed out. It’s that Q switches between them in a very noteworthy way.

If only Bars 1 and 3 are classified as involving significant narrative elements and everything else is classified as sayings then:

  • Q would begin with clearly narrative material (John the Baptist and the beginning of Jesus’ ministry).
  • It would switch to a major sayings collection that is clearly presented as a unit in Matthew and Luke (the Sermon on the Mount/Plain).
  • It would revert to a narrative for a single story (the Healing of the Centurion’s Servant).
  • Then it would switch back to an extremely long series of sayings.
  • Finally, it would end without returning to the kind of narrative framework that it began with.

This is very unlike what we see in ancient sayings collections like Thomas, Proverbs, or Sirach.

 

Matters Get Worse for Q?

Things get even worse for Q if some of the material is classified differently.

If Bars 4-6 are classified as narrative, if only some parts of them are, or if we allow a mixed “narrative/sayings” classification then we have an even more complex picture that deviates even further from the idea that Q is a “sayings gospel.”

 

Conclusion

If we attempt to visualize Q in terms of the narrative and sayings elements that it would have included, we find that it switches back and forth between them in a way that is not like other ancient sayings collections.

This gives us more reason to see the hypothetical, lost Q as a unique document and thus as one that was less likely to exist, in view of the fact that we do not have ancient parallels for it.

Does Luke Contradict Himself on When Jesus Was Born?

lukeSt. Luke begins the second chapter of his Gospel with a chronological note about when Jesus was born: writing:

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled.

This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria [Luke 2:1-2].

This passage has been subject to a lot of criticism, because Luke has already linked the birth of Jesus to reign of Herod the Great (Luke 1:5), and Quirinius did not become governor of Syria until years afterwards.

 

What Happened When?

Precisely when Herod’s reign ended is a matter of dispute. Historically, the most common view—which is also in accordance with the Church Fathers—is that Herod died in 1 B.C.

Just over a hundred years ago, however, a German scholar named Emil Schürer argued that Herod died in 4 B.C., and this became the most popular view in the 20th century.

More recent scholarship, however, has supported the idea that Schürer was wrong and that the traditional date of 1 B.C. is correct.

After Herod’s death, his kingdom was divided, and his son Archelaus became the ruler of Judaea (Matt. 2:22).

Archelaus, however, was a terrible ruler, and in A.D. 6 he was removed from office by the Romans and banished to what is now France.

In his place, a Roman prefect was appointed to govern the province, which is why Pontius Pilate—rather than one of the descendants of Herod the Great—was ruling Judaea at the time of Jesus’ adult ministry.

According to the Jewish historian Josephus, Quirinius (aka Cyrenius) was sent to govern Syria after the banishment of Archelaus. He also took a tax census of Judaea at this time and made an accounting of Archelaus’s finances (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 18:1:1).

 

The Sequence

From the above, the overall sequence of events is clear:

  1. Herod the Great dies (1 B.C. or 4 B.C.)
  2. Archelaus becomes his successor in Judaea
  3. Archelaus is deposed
  4. Quirinius does his census (A.D. 6)

Given that sequence, if Luke identified Jesus’ birth with a census conducted in A.D. 6 then we would have an implicit contradiction with Luke 1, which links Jesus’ birth to the reign of Herod the Great, and an even clearer contradiction with Matthew 2, which is explicit about the fact that Jesus was born during the reign of Herod the Great.

 

Finding a Solution

Scholars have proposed a number of solutions to this. There isn’t space to review them all here, but I’d like to look at one of them.

In his book Who Was Jesus? the former Anglican bishop N. T Wright states:

The question of Quirinius and his census is an old chestnut, requiring a good knowledge of Greek. It depends on the meaning of the word protos, which usually means ‘first’.

Thus most translations of Luke 2.2 read ‘this was the first [protos] census, when Quirinius was governor of Syria’, or something like that.

But in the Greek of the time, as the standard major Greek lexicons point out, the word protos came sometimes to be used to mean ‘before’, when followed (as this is) by the genitive case (p. 89).

The genitive case is a grammatical feature in Greek. It is often used to indicate possession (as in “Jesus’ disciples”) or origin (as in “Jesus of Nazareth”). Wright, however, is pointing to a special use of the genitive when it follows the word protos and protos ends up meaning “before.” He writes:

A good example is in John 1.15, where John the Baptist says of Jesus ‘he was before me’, with the Greek being again protos followed by the genitive of ‘me’.

In a footnote, Wright continues:

The phrase is repeated in John 1.30; compare also 15.18, where Jesus says ‘the world hated me before [it hated] you’, where again the Greek is protos with the genitive.

Other references, in biblical and non-biblical literature of the period, may be found in the Greek Lexicon of Liddell and Scott (Oxford: OUP, 1940), p. 1535, and the Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament of W . Bauer, revised and edited by Arndt, Gingrich and Danker (Chicago: University of Chicago Press), pp. 725f. 19 .

 This solution has been advanced by various scholars, including, interestingly, William Temple in his Readings in St John’s Gospel (London: Macmillan, 1945), p. 17; cf. most recently John Nolland, Luke 1–9: 20 (Dallas: Word Books, 1989), pp. 101f.

 

Wright’s Solution

Wright then explains how this can relate to the enrollment of Quirinius:

I suggest, therefore, that actually the most natural reading of the verse is: “This census took place before the time when Quirinius was governor of Syria.”

He also notes:

This solves an otherwise odd problem: why should Luke say that Quirinius’ census was the first? Which later ones was he thinking of?

This reading, of course, does not resolve all the difficulties. We don’t know, from other sources, of a census earlier than Quirinius’. But there are a great many things that we don’t know in ancient history.

There are huge gaps in our records all over the place. Only those who imagine that one can study history by looking up back copies of the London Times or the Washington Post in a convenient library can make the mistake of arguing from silence in matters relating to the first century.

My guess is that Luke knew a tradition in which Jesus was born during some sort of census, and that Luke knew as well as we do that it couldn’t have been the one conducted under Quirinius, because by then Jesus was about ten years old. That is why he wrote that the census was the one before that conducted by Quirinius.

 

An Objection

An objection that some have raised about this solution is why, on this theory, Luke would bother mentioning Quirinius’s census.

Think about it for a moment: It can sound a little strange to say, “This census took place before the time when Quirinius was governor of Syria.”

Why would Luke do that?

There are at least three reasons . . .

 

Avoiding Confusion

The census of Quirinius was famous enough that Luke’s audience would have heard of it—otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered mentioning it.

Given that it was well known, Luke would have wanted to avoid people confusing it with the enrollment during which Jesus was born.

He would especially want to avoid confusion in light of what he had established about King Herod . . .

 

Herod’s Death

Previously, in Luke 1:5, the Evangelist established that John the Baptist was conceived by his mother Elizabeth during the reign of Herod the Great.

Then, in 1:26 and 36, he established that Gabriel announced the conception of Jesus “in the sixth month” (i.e., what we would call the fifth month) of Elizabeth’s pregnancy.

This means that Jesus would have been conceived much too early to have been born during Quirinius’s census.

Since Luke has already established this, it gives him a reason—when he records the fact that Jesus was born in connection with an enrollment—that it was not the famous census of Quirinius. It was an earlier one, in keeping with the timeframe Luke has already established.

But there is another reason why Luke would want to point this out . . .

 

In the Fifteenth Year of Tiberius Caesar

Luke 2 begins with a time cue that connects the birth of Jesus to the reign of Augustus Caesar. Luke 3 begins with an even more elaborate time cue linking the beginning of Jesus’ adult ministry to the reign of Augustus’s successor, Tiberius.

Luke writes:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip tetrarch of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene, in the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness [Luke 3:1-2].

The fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar is what we would call A.D. 28/29.

After John’s ministry begins, Jesus quickly comes and is baptized, thus beginning his own ministry.

When that happens, Luke informs us:

Jesus, when he began his ministry, was about thirty years of age [Luke 3:23].

If you back up 30 years from A.D. 28/29 (remembering that there is no “year 0” so you skip from A.D. 1 directly to 1 B.C.), you land in 2/3 B.C., which is the year that the early Church Fathers overwhelmingly assign Jesus’ birth to.

People back then knew when Tiberius reigned, and they could do the math as well as we. In fact, since they were used to dating years in terms of the emperor’s reign, they would realize even more quickly than we the year in which Luke 3 indicates Jesus was born.

Thus, on Wright’s theory, Luke would have an additional motive to make sure there was no confusion about Jesus being born during the famous census of Quirinius.

Think about it from Luke’s point of view: After years of gathering his research, he’s now drafting his Gospel, and, when he reaches Luke 2, he includes a time cue for the birth of Jesus during an enrollment ordered by Augustus.

He already knows, however, that he is planning on beginning Luke 3 with a time cue identifying the beginning of John the Baptist’s ministry and that he’s going to give Jesus’ approximate age at the time of his own ministry’s commencement.

Since the later time cues he’s planning to give point to a date earlier than the famous census of Quirinius, Luke would want to head off any potential confusion by stressing that this happened before that census, in keeping with the implications of Luke 3.

What Is the “Synoptic Problem” and Why Do Apologists Need to Know About It?

Synoptic EvangelistsThree of the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, and Luke—are very similar to each other when compared to the fourth Gospel, John. They tell the story of Jesus in very similar ways, frequently including the same stories and sayings and often using exactly the same words.

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”).

They are so similar that scholars have tried to figure out why. This is known as “the synoptic problem.”

In the last two centuries, there has been an enormous amount written about the subject, and we can’t hope to more than scratch the surface here. We will, however, look at some of the more popular solutions to the synoptic problem.

 

Is There a Problem at All?

diagram oral sourcesIt’s tempting to ask whether there even is a problem to be solved. Relying on eyewitness evidence and oral tradition, couldn’t Matthew, Mark, and Luke have written independently of each other? Couldn’t they include the stories and sayings that they do just because Jesus did and said those things?

This view is known as the Independence hypothesis, and it is the position that most people hold, at least before they start looking closely at the issue.

Despite its appeal, the Independence hypothesis has not won many advocates among scholars in recent years. Part of the reason is the Gospel of John. It is missing many of the familiar stories and sayings found in the other three, and it has a great deal of new material not found in them.

What’s more, John indicates that there was an even larger pool of material about Jesus to select from. At the end of his Gospel, he writes: “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).

That means we have to ask the question of why Matthew, Mark, and Luke chose the material that they did. It isn’t that they were recording everything Jesus said and did. They could have picked different stories and sayings, like John. If they wrote independently of each other, why did they make so many of the same choices?

It is commonly estimated that 90% of the material found in Mark is also found in Matthew (B. F. Streeter, The Four Gospels, 160). Nine out of ten verses in Mark are paralleled in Matthew! That seems to be too large an amount of material in common for it to just be random chance. It suggests a common source.

 

An Oral Gospel?

What could that source be? One possibility is that it was an oral equivalent of a Gospel.

People relied on and trained their memories to a greater extent in the past, and it is not impossible that the early Church developed a standard way of recounting the ministry and passion of Jesus—a cycle of stories and sayings that were memorized in a definite order, rather than just as a pool of traditions. If so, they had the oral equivalent of a Gospel, and the Synoptic Evangelists could have drawn on this for the material they share in common.

Most scholars have not favored this viewpoint. Memorizing such a Gospel would have been quite an achievement—particularly without a written text to work from—and it is not clear that the early Christian community had enough people willing to perform the feat. Further, we have no record of people in the first century attempting this, and we have no record among the Church Fathers of the Synoptics being based on such a source.

 

A Lost Gospel?

diagram lost gospelMost scholars think that the similarities among the Synoptics are due to a common written source. The question is: Do we still have this source?

Some have suggested that we don’t—that the common source behind the Synoptics was a now-lost “proto-Gospel” that each drew upon.

Luke tells us that, in his day, “many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things which have been accomplished among us” (Luke 1:1). It is possible that the three Evangelists used one of these prior narratives in composing their own Gospels.

But we should be careful about claiming that there was a single, written source that explains the similarities among the Synoptics.

This view invokes a hypothetical source, and Occam’s Razor indicates that we shouldn’t propose hypothetical sources beyond what is necessary to account for the data. Otherwise, the problem will become nightmarishly complex. (Indeed, one web site devoted to the synoptic problem—hypotyposeis.org—listed 1,488 solutions! That number is made possible by freely proposing hypothetical sources for which we do not have clear evidence.)

Rather than proposing hypothetical, lost documents, we should at least initially try to explain the material in the Synoptic Gospels by appealing to documents that we know existed: Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

 

Who’s on First?

It’s possible to explain the shared material in the Synoptics by proposing that one of them is the common source. In other words, one of the Evangelists wrote first and the other two borrowed from him.

You could explain the 90% of Mark that is paralleled in Matthew either by saying Mark wrote the first Gospel and Matthew borrowed from him or that Matthew wrote first and Mark did the borrowing.

You don’t need a hypothetical source to account for the material. You just need to identify which was the first one written.

On this, there are two major views: One holds that Matthew wrote first and the other that Mark did. Virtually no one in Church history has claimed that Luke wrote first.

The idea that Matthew wrote first is known as “Matthean priority,” and it was the most popular view in most of Church history. The alternative view, that Mark wrote first, is known as “Markan priority,” and it is the most popular view today.

 

The Augustinian Hypothesis

diagram augustinian hypothesisFor much of Church history, the standard theory of how the Gospel were composed is that Matthew wrote first, Mark then did an abbreviated version of Matthew, while adding a small amount of material of his own. Finally, Luke wrote.

This view takes its name from St. Augustine (354-430).

At the beginning of his Harmony of the Gospels, Augustine took the position that the Gospels were written in this order, though a statement that he made later in the work has led some to think that he may have revised his view or become less sure about the order.

 

The Griesbach Hypothesis

diagram griesbach hypothesisAnother view, known as the Griesbach hypothesis, agrees that Matthew wrote first, but it holds that Luke wrote second and that Mark wrote last, making his Gospel a combination and abridgement of the first two. (Mark is quite a bit shorter than either Matthew or Luke.)

The view is named after Johann Jakob Griesbach (1745-1812), the German scholar who proposed it.

This is the second most popular view among biblical scholars today. (We will discuss the most popular one shortly.) The best-known advocate of this theory in recent years was William Farmer (1921-2000).

 

The Farrer Hypothesis

diagram farrer hypothesisIf you hold that Matthew wrote first then the Augustinian and Griesbach hypotheses are the two obvious options. But what if you hold that Mark wrote first? Again, there are two options that don’t involve hypothetical documents.

The first is known as the Farrer hypothesis. According to it, Mark wrote first, then Matthew used and expanded on Mark, and finally Luke drew from and abridged the first two, while adding some new material from his own sources.

This view is named after the English scholar Austin Farrer (1904-1968), who proposed it. It is popular principally among British scholars.

 

The Wilke Hypothesis

diagram wilke hypothesisThe other obvious view based on the idea that Mark wrote first is known as the Wilke hypothesis. According to this view, Mark wrote the initial Gospel, Luke wrote next drawing partly on Mark and partly on his own sources, and then Matthew wrote last, drawing on both Mark and Luke.

This theory is named after the German scholar Christian Gottlob Wilke (1786-1854), who was also a convert to the Catholic Church from Lutheranism.

The Wilke hypothesis has received a surprisingly small amount of attention in recent literature, with many authors gliding over it in a sentence or failing to mention it altogether. Despite that, it has been attracting renewed attention in the last few years, with a number of new advocates. Among them was German scholar Martin Hengel (1926-2006), who proposed a version of it.

 

The Two-Source Hypothesis

diagram two-source hypothesisBy far the most common theory today is the “Two-Source hypothesis.” According to this view, Mark wrote first and then Matthew and Luke used him independently of each other.

This would account for why both Matthew and Luke have certain material in common with Mark, but it would not account for why they have certain material in common with each other.

There are around 235 verses in Matthew that are paralleled in Luke, and many scholars have proposed a common source for this material. They have dubbed this source “Q.” It is often claimed that this is short for the German word Quelle, which means “source,” but this is not certain.

The view is known as the “Two-Source hypothesis” because it holds that Matthew and Luke used two major sources: Mark and Q.

Note that the idea of a Q source (which might have been written or oral) is only needed if you assume that Matthew and Luke wrote independently of each other. If you hold one of the views mentioned above, you don’t need to propose a Q source. For example, Luke could have drawn all of the so-called “Q material” directly from Matthew under the Augustinian, Griesbach, or Farrer hypotheses. Alternately, Matthew could have taken all of this material directly from Luke under the Wilke hypothesis.

The Two-Source theory was first proposed in 1838 by the German scholar Christian Hermann Weisse (1801-1861) and was elaborated by various others—most notably by the English scholar B. H. Streeter (1874-1937).

In 1911 and 1912, the Pontifical Biblical Commission issued a pair of decrees that insisted Catholic biblical scholars were to teach that Matthew wrote first, thus ruling out the Two-Source hypothesis.

These decrees were disciplinary and provisional, and they were ultimately superseded. The Two-Source view then became dominant among Catholic scholars.

This was acknowledged by Benedict XVI, before he became pope and while he was himself the head of the Pontifical Biblical Commission. In an address to the commission, he noted that the Two-Source theory is “accepted today by almost everyone” (Joseph Ratzinger, On the 100th Anniversary of the Pontifical Biblical Commission).

Upon coming into office, Pope Francis wrote a letter to an Italian newspaper that indicated that he, personally, adheres to the idea that Mark wrote first:

“I would say that we must face Jesus in the concrete roughness of his story, as above all told to us by the most ancient of the Gospels, the one according to Mark” (“Pope Francisco writes to La Repubblica: ‘An open dialogue with non-believers,’” La Repubblica, Sept. 11, 2013; online at repubblica.it).

Pope Francis did not indicate whether he also believes there to have been a Q source—and letters to newspapers do not count as acts of the papal Magisterium—but this does indicate the degree of acceptance that Markan priority has achieved in Catholic circles.

 

How Certain Can We Be?

By the mid-twentieth century, the Two-Source hypothesis had achieved such dominance that it was often presented as one of “the assured results of modern scholarship” (to use a common phrase).

This began to change, with a notable number of scholars challenging it and with even its advocates making more modest claims on its behalf.

For example, Joseph Fitzmyer—an advocate of the Two-Source hypothesis—famously said:

“The history of Synoptic research reveals that the problem is practically insoluble. As I see the matter, we cannot hope for a definitive and certain solution to it, since the data for its solution are scarcely adequate or available to us” (“The Priority of Mark and the ‘Q’ Source in Luke,” Jesus: Man’s Hope, 1:132).

Advocates of other views have often agreed that the best we can achieve is a probable solution, not a certain one.

This is because the data we have is limited and often difficult to assess. Basically, it comes in two forms: external and internal.

External data consists of what we can learn about the Synoptic Gospels from outside sources, such as the Church Fathers. Internal data consists of what we can learn by comparing the Synoptic Gospels with each other. Both kinds can be difficult to assess.

 

Mixed Messages

The external data can be difficult because, although the Augustinian hypothesis eventually became the majority view and remained so for a long time, the Church Fathers do not all agree, particularly in the period before Augustine.

This can be seen by looking at what they have to say about Mark. According to Augustine, Mark was the second Gospel to be written, after Matthew and before Luke. He wrote: “Mark follows [Matthew] closely, and looks like his attendant and epitomizer” (Harmony of the Gospels I:2[4]).

But Clement of Alexandria, the late-second century head of a catechetical school in Mark’s see of Alexandria, may have held Mark was written third—after both Matthew and Luke, for he said the Gospels with the genealogies (Matthew and Luke) were written first (Eusebius, Church History 6:14:6-7). This would be in keeping with the Griesbach hypothesis.

The earliest statement we have comes from the early second century historian Papias, who in turn quotes a first century figure known as “John the Presbyter” or “John the Elder” (Greek, presbuteros = “elder”). This figure was a disciple of Jesus. He is sometimes identified with John son of Zebedee, but a careful reading of Papias indicates that he may have been a separate individual (see Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, ch.s 2, 9, 16).

According to John the Presbyter,

“Mark, having become the interpreter of Peter, wrote down accurately, though not in order, whatsoever he remembered of the things said or done by Christ. For he neither heard the Lord nor followed him, but afterward, as I said, he followed Peter, who adapted his teaching to the needs of his hearers, but with no intention of giving a connected account of the Lord’s discourses, so that Mark committed no error while he thus wrote some things as he remembered them. For he was careful of one thing, not to omit any of the things which he had heard, and not to state any of them falsely” (Eusebius, Church History 3:39:15).

Since John the Presbyter is a first century source and a witness of Jesus’ ministry, his testimony regarding Mark’s composition has great weight.

It was also held by many in the early Church (see Jerome, Lives of Illustrious Men 9 and 18) and by a number of modern scholars (including Richard Bauckham, Martin Hengel, and Benedict XVI) that John the Presbyter had a hand in writing at least some of the Johannine literature in the New Testament, especially 2 and 3 John, which are addressed as being from “the Presbyter/Elder” (2 John 1, 3 John 1; see Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth 1:224-227 for his view of John the Presbyter’s role in the origin of the Johannine books).

If this is true then his testimony regarding the origin of Mark’s Gospel would have even greater weight. It would represent the testimony of one of the other authors of the New Testament! (The same would be true if John the Presbyter were identified with John son of Zebedee.)

Either way, if Mark’s Gospel is based on his memory of things Peter preached and if 90% of Mark is in Matthew then it would seem that Mark wrote first and Matthew borrowed from him. It would seem hard to say that Mark is based on Peter’s preaching if 90% of it came from Matthew.

However, some advocates of the Griesbach hypothesis have proposed that Peter gave a series of lectures based on Matthew and Luke and that Mark had these lectures transcribed (so Dom Bernard Orchard, David Alan Black). In this way, Mark could be based on Peter’s preaching and still have so much of its material taken from Matthew.

This, however, does not seem to correspond to what John the Presbyter says: He states that Mark “wrote down accurately, though not in order, whatsoever he remembered of the things said or done by Christ” based on Peter’s preaching, “with no intent of giving a connected account of the Lord’s discourses.” The stress is placed on Mark’s after-the-fact memory of Peter’s preaching, not on the transcription of a set of lectures.

 

Internal Evidence

If the external evidence can be difficult to assess, so can the internal evidence that scholars have gleaned by comparing Matthew, Mark, and Luke. The literature on the subject is vast, often brain-crushingly detailed, and frequently the arguments don’t prove what they’re supposed to.

For example, one argument B. H. Streeter proposed for Mark being the first Gospel is that its literary quality is not as high as Matthew or Luke. This is true, and it is especially clear in the Greek text. The claim is that Mark reads like a first attempt at a Gospel and that Matthew and Luke then expanded on and polished the material, producing Gospels of higher literary quality.

This argument has weight, but it is not conclusive. It is possible that Mark could have decided to do an abbreviated Gospel, and—in his retelling of the material—he revealed that he was not as accomplished an author.

Another argument is based on the fact that the Synoptics often present the same stories and sayings in a different order. Streeter argued that, when this happens, either Matthew tends to follow Mark’s order or Luke does. Matthew and Luke virtually never agree with each other against Mark’s sequence. This suggested to him that Matthew and Luke were using Mark as a source but occasionally changed the sequence in which they presented material.

Unfortunately, this argument—like many—is reversible. As later scholars pointed out, the same phenomenon can be explained if Mark was compiling his material from Matthew and Luke. At any given point, it would have been natural for Mark to follow Matthew’s order or Luke’s order, but he couldn’t do both when they were different.

The difficulty in finding conclusive arguments—based on internal or external evidence—has convinced many scholars that we simply can’t have conclusive proof. The best we can hope for is a probable solution, and some scholars don’t even hold out that hope and think the matter is unknowable.

This leads to a final question.

 

How Important Is the Synoptic Problem?

The answer will depend on your perspective. For some scholars, the subject is crucially important. This is particularly the case for those engaged in “the search for the historical Jesus.” These scholars tend to think that the true Jesus—“the Jesus of history”—has been obscured by successive layers of tradition and dogma and so been transformed into “the Christ of faith.”

For them, finding the truth about Jesus involves peeling away and discarding the layers of tradition, and if you want to do that then it matters very much which Gospel was first and whether lost sources like Q were being used. You need to identify the earliest material you can so that you can dismiss later material as saying something about the Church rather than about Jesus.

This is why it’s important for apologists to know about the Synoptic problem. Regardless which solution (if any) one thinks persuasive, apologists need to be able to interact with the kind of arguments involved. Otherwise, they will be unprepared to deal with those who use the relationships among the Synoptics to discredit them.

From the perspective of faith, the matter is much less urgent. Knowing how the Synoptic Gospels were composed can help shed light on particular passages, but it is not necessary for a basic understanding of Jesus and his message. From a faith perspective, the Gospels are inspired by the Holy Spirit and are reliable records of Jesus’ life and teachings.

In other words, the Jesus of history is the Christ of faith.

Did God Deceive Jeremiah?

jeremiahThe readings you heard at Mass on Sunday say that God “duped” Jeremiah.

Wait . . . what?

How could an all-holy God “dupe” or deceive anybody?

What’s going on here?

 

Let’s Start with the Text

The readings for the 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A), contain a passage from Jeremiah, which reads, in part:

You duped me, O LORD, and I let myself be duped;
you were too strong for me, and you triumphed.
All the day I am an object of laughter;
everyone mocks me [Jer. 20:7].

“Duped”?

Okay, let’s start by noting that “duped” is a tin-eared translation. The word is too colloquial and comes of as jarring in this context.

How does the verse read in other translations? Here it is in the RSV:CE:

O Lord, thou hast deceived me,
and I was deceived;
thou art stronger than I,
and thou hast prevailed.
I have become a laughingstock all the day;
every one mocks me.

Hm. It doesn’t have the jarring lurch into the colloquial, but it still has carries the implication of God actively doing something evil by deceiving someone.

 

The Language of Direct Attribution

Now, the Old Testament does have a mode of language in which—sometimes—everything that happens is attributed directly to God.

This happens, for example, when 2 Samuel 24:1 says God moved David to take a census that he shouldn’t have, whereas 1 Chronicles 21:1 says the devil moved him to do it.

2 Samuel is using the language of direct attribution, where the bad thing that happened (David’s census) is attributed directly to God, whereas 1 Chronicles uses a more refined mode of language that recognizes the bad thing that happened was prompted by the devil, with the implication that God allowed it.

The language of direct attribution is an ancient way of showing the fact that everything happens under God’s providence, but this mode of language does not distinguish between things that God intends and actively causes and those things that he merely allows.

When this mode of language is in use, bad things are spoken of in a way that directly attributes them to God.

In reality, God is all-holy and does not do anything evil. He tolerates evil with a view toward bringing good out of it. Thus the Catechism states:

The fact that God permits physical and even moral evil is a mystery that God illuminates by his Son Jesus Christ who died and rose to vanquish evil. Faith gives us the certainty that God would not permit an evil if he did not cause a good to come from that very evil, by ways that we shall fully know only in eternal life [CCC 324].

But, particularly in the Old Testament, they didn’t always make this kind of distinction and had a way of speaking that attributed everything—good or bad—directly to divine agency.

Is that’s what is happening in Jeremiah 20:7? Did Jeremiah get into the role of prophet not knowing what would happen to him and the suffering he would experience, so now he is using that mode of language?

That would be one way of solving the problem, but there are others . . .

 

The Language of Subjective Feeling

Scripture has another mode of language in which a person speaks his feelings without necessarily implying that what he says is to be taken literally. He may be expressing his feelings using hyperbole (i.e., exaggeration to make a point).

A jubilant example of this occurs in Psalm 108:2, where the psalmist cries:

Awake, harp and lyre; I will awaken the dawn!

This means that the psalmist is really jubilant and wants to go on and on praising God with song.

It need not literally mean that he will stay up all night praising God. (Indeed, I don’t have any evidence that Psalm 108 was used exclusively in all-night prayer services.)

It certainly does not mean that the psalmist will sing so long and so loud that he will literally awaken the sun from its slumber and cause it to come up.

We thus might suppose that Jeremiah is doing something similar, only with a negative emotion instead of a positive one.

Perhaps he didn’t realize what he was getting into by becoming a prophet and now he feels like he was deceived. On this theory, he would just be “venting” to get it out of his system, without it being literally the case that God tricked him.

And there is another way of looking at the text . . .

 

Look Closely at the Verb and the Context

The verb being translated as “dupe/deceive” is pathah, and while it can mean these things, it also has other meanings, and in this context it may well have one of those.

Writing in the Word Biblical Commentary (vol. 26, Jeremiah 1-25), Joel Drinkard writes:

The verb pathah is variously translated as “deceive, seduce, persuade.” . . .

[D]espite the common English translation of pathah as deceive (KJV, RSV), the context does not indicate that Yahweh has in any way deceived Jeremiah: from his call experience on, Yahweh has warned Jeremiah of the opposition he would encounter.

The context rather suggests the meaning of persuasion. Clines and Gunn suggest that the word pathah deals especially with attempts, not necessarily success, in persuading, hence the title of their article, “You Tried to Persuade Me.…”

However, in this passage, the context makes clear that Yahweh was quite successful: Yahweh persuaded and Jeremiah was fully, completely persuaded. Yahweh’s persuasion overpowered (khazaq) Jeremiah, and Yahweh overcame (yakol) [comment on 20:7, bibliographic references omitted].

An example of where God warned Jeremiah about the trials he would face as a prophet is found right at the beginning of the book, in Jeremiah 1:18-19:

And I, behold, I make you this day a fortified city, an iron pillar, and bronze walls, against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, its princes, its priests, and the people of the land. They will fight against you; but they shall not prevail against you, for I am with you, says the Lord, to deliver you.”

So while it could be that the text is using the language of direct attribution or the language of subjective feeling, we don’t have to go that far. It is also possible—and, in view of God’s warnings to Jeremiah, perhaps even probable—that the verb is just being used in the sense of “persuade” rather than “deceive” or (cringe!) “dupe.”

What Now?

If you like the information I’ve presented here, you should join my Secret Information Club.

If you’re not familiar with it, the Secret Information Club is a free service that I operate by email.

I send out information on a variety of fascinating topics connected with the Catholic faith.

In fact, the very first thing you’ll get if you sign up is information about what Pope Benedict said about the book of Revelation.

He had a lot of interesting things to say!

If you’d like to find out what they are, just sign up at www.SecretInfoClub.com or use this handy sign-up form:

Just email me at jimmy@secretinfoclub.com if you have any difficulty.

In the meantime, what do you think?

Hah! A Tiny Biblical Mystery Solved

st-paul-baptizingI just realized the solution to a minor biblical mystery.

There is a famous passage in 1 Corinthians, where Paul is rebuking the Corinthian Christians for forming factions around different Church figures, and he writes:

Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?

I am thankful that I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius; lest any one should say that you were baptized in my name (1 Cor. 1:13-15).

Then he writes:

I did baptize also the household of Stephanas. Beyond that, I do not know whether I baptized any one else (1 Cor. 1:16).

Paul clearly forgot about having baptized the household of Stephanas, but something jogged his memory.

What was it?

At the very end of the epistle, we read about a group of Corinthians who had come to visit Paul and were with him at the time. He writes:

Now, brethren, you know that the household of Stephanas were the first converts in Achaia [i.e., Greece], and they have devoted themselves to the service of the saints; I urge you to be subject to such men and to every fellow worker and laborer. I rejoice at the coming of Stephanas and Fortunatus and Achaicus, because they have made up for your absence;  for they refreshed my spirit as well as yours. Give recognition to such men (1 Cor. 16:15-18).

A-hah! Stephanas was with Paul at the time the letter was written!

That gives us a very good idea what–or rather, who–jogged Paul’s memory: Stephanas himself!

In all likelihood, Paul was dictating away, he mentioned baptizing Crispus and Gaius and then moved on, and then Stephanas piped up with something like, “Um, you baptized my household as well.”

And so, having been reminded, Paul mentioned them as well and–lest he forgot anyone else–said he didn’t remember if he baptized anyone else.

Heh. I love little discoveries like that–and imagining the human dynamics at play in the event, such as Stephanas’s embarrassment at having to correct Paul and Paul being embarrassed that he forgot Stephanas’s household and possibly others.

It would have been particularly embarrassing for him to realize that he had forgotten that he baptized the household of Stephanas since, as he says in the second passage, they were the very first converts in Greece!

Questioning Q

Q fadeIn a previous post, I looked at the hypothetical document Q, which most contemporary Bible scholars think was used by Matthew and Luke when they composed their Gospels.

The reason they think this is that there are 235 verses in Matthew that are paralleled in Luke but not in Mark or John.

The proposal is that there was a document in the early Church that contained (roughly) these 235 verses and that both Matthew and Luke copied from it.

That proposed document is commonly called Q.

 

Hypothetical vs. Lost

Previously, I pointed out that the Q document is not simply lost.

There are lots of documents from the ancient world that we know existed even though they are now lost. We can be confident that these works existed because the ancients talk about them in their surviving writings.

But Q is not in that category. We don’t have any ancient references to it. It isn’t just a lost document; it’s a hypothetical lost document. That means we must be more cautious about its existence than the lost documents that we know existed.

Here’s another reason we should be cautious . . .

 

A Unique Document?

If it existed, Q seems to have been a unique document. We are not aware of other documents of the same kind. In other words, Q does not fall into a recognized literary genre.

You will often hear the opposite. Specifically, you will hear that Q belongs to the same genre as the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas, which was rediscovered in 1945 in Egypt and published in 1956.

The Gospel of Thomas is a collection of 114 sayings that are attributed to “the living Jesus.” A few of these involve a brief dialogue with another character, but there is no story—no narrative—to the Gospel of Thomas.

Many have claimed that Q belongs to the same genre as Thomas because a lot of the verses paralleled in Matthew and Luke are sayings of Jesus.

The difficulty is that, unlike the Gospel of Thomas, the hypothetical Q document is not simply a “sayings gospel.”

 

Narrative in a Sayings Gospel?

If it existed, Q included a large number of narrative elements. These are documented by Mark Goodacre in his book The Case Against Q (pp. 170-185).

There, he shows that the hypothetical Q would go beyond sayings and have a narrative structure as follows:

  1. Q introduces John the Baptist, apparently before it introduces Jesus (Q 3:2), who is located in the region of the Jordan (Q 3:3; note: In contemporary scholarship, citations attributed to Q are based on the verses in Luke, so Q 3:2 is found in Luke 3:2).
  2. There, people come to him to receive his baptism (Q 3:7) and John warns them to bear fruit befitting repentance (Q 3:8).
  3. Then John begins contrasting himself and his baptism with the one who comes after him, who will have a greater baptism (Q 3:16-17).
  4. Jesus is then introduced, there is a reference to the Spirit descending on him, and he is indicated to be God’s Son (Q 3:21-22).
  5. The Spirit then takes Jesus to the wilderness (Q 4:1), where he is tested by the devil with regard to whether he is God’s Son (twice: “if you are the Son of God . . .” Q 4:3, 9).
  6. Then Jesus goes to “Nazara” (Q 4:16).
  7. Jesus then gives a major discourse (Q 6:20-49).
  8. Q then notes that after Jesus finished these sayings he entered Capernaum (Q 7:1). This is a very clear indicator of narrative structure, particularly in an alleged sayings gospel.
  9. We then have the healing of the Centurion’s servant (Q 7:3, 6-10).
  10. Then John the Baptist hears what is going on with Jesus and, apparently unable to come himself, sends messengers to ask if Jesus is the one after all. Jesus responds by pointing to the many miracles he has done and his preaching of the good news and urges John not to disbelieve (Q 7:18-23).
  11. When John’s disciples has left, Jesus speaks to the crowd, he reminds them of when they went out to see John (referenced earlier in Q), and he pays tribute to John (Q 7:24-28).
  12. Afterward, Jesus pronounces woe on Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum for failing to respond to the wonders he did in them (Q 10:13-15).

Goodacre goes into more detail than we can here, but the point is made: This is a narrative; it’s a story. It’s not just a collection of Jesus’ sayings.

It has a geographical progression (Jordan, the wilderness, Nazara, Capernaum); it has elements pointing forward and backward (e.g., the early indication that Jesus is the one to come, followed by the later questioning of whether this is the case); there are narrative transitions between one unit and the next; and it contains at least one miracle account, while referring to many more being done.

It is only after this narrative sequence that Q would have been largely composed of sayings, and that places it in what seems to be a unique category: a work that would start as a narrative and then become a sayings collection.

How does that compare to other ancient sayings collections?

 

Actual Sayings Collections

There were sayings collections in the ancient world—and not just Thomas. Proverbs and Sirach spring readily to mind.

It is common for such collections to have a brief statement at the beginning about who originated the sayings, but in none of these cases is there a big narrative about that person.

Proverbs does not begin with a biography of Solomon but with the simple statement, “The proverbs of Solomon, son of David, king of Israel” (Pr. 1:1).

Sirach does not begin with a biography of Sirach but is prefaced by a brief, non-narrative introduction by his grandson, who translated the book from Hebrew into Greek.

Thomas begins with the statement, “These are the secret sayings that the living Jesus spoke and Didymos Judas Thomas recorded.”

In none of these cases do we have anything like the lengthy, complex narrative that can be reconstructed from the Q material.

Ancient Judeo-Christian sayings collections appear to have been just that: sayings collections, not sayings collections preceded with an extensive narrative about the person from whom the sayings came.

 

More Caution on Q

If there was a Q document, it does not appear to have belonged to a known genre of Jewish or Christian writing from the time.

This means that we have extra reason to be cautious about whether it existed. Not only are we talking about a document that is lost and hypothetical, it is also of an otherwise unknown, unattested type.

It would be one thing to propose a lost document that fits a known type—which is why Q advocates frequently appeal to the Gospel of Thomas as a parallel, though the comparison does not hold up. It is another thing to propose a lost document that does not have any parallels in the relevant ancient literature.

We thus have another reason to be cautious about the existence of Q and another reason to look at alternative explanations of the 235 verses Matthew and Luke have in common—like the idea that one Evangelist used material from the other.

Some Thoughts About Q

greek manuscriptNo, not that annoying guy from Star Trek.

And not the gadget guy from James Bond.

In biblical scholarship, Q is a hypothetical source that both Matthew and Luke supposedly used.

The reason people talk about it is that there are about 235 verses in Matthew that are paralleled in Luke but not in Mark or John.

This is a significant number. Matthew has 1071 verses and Luke has 1151. If they both have 235 verses uniquely in common with each other then that’s quite a substantial portion of the two gospels—more than a fifth.

This is a significant enough portion that many have felt it isn’t due to random chance and there must be a reason.

One reason could be that Luke drew upon Matthew for these verses. Alternately, Matthew could have drawn upon Luke for them.

Today most scholars don’t think that either of these was the case, however. Instead, they think that Matthew and Luke wrote independently of each other, which would suggest a different source for this material.

In the 1800s, this source was dubbed “Q,” allegedly from the German word Quelle (“source”), though this is unclear.

Today the most popular view among biblical scholars is that Matthew and Luke both drew upon two main sources in writing their Gospels—Mark and Q. This is known as the “two-source hypothesis.”

Although the Magisterium of the Church initially prohibited Catholic scholars from advocating this view, this was later changed, and, as Pope Benedict XVI noted, when he was still Cardinal Ratzinger and the head of the Pontifical Biblical Commission, the two-source theory is “accepted today by almost everyone” (source).

 

What should we make of this view?

From one perspective—the perspective of faith—it doesn’t really matter much what the particular sources of the Gospels were. They are all inspired and give us accurate knowledge of Jesus Christ. That’s the important thing.

How they came to be is an interesting question that may shed light on some individual passages of Scripture, but it is not essential to the Christian Faith.

On the other hand, if you don’t share the perspective of faith then the question can be much more important. Some scholars, engaged in the “quest for the historical Jesus” think that the true, original Jesus has been obscured by layers of tradition and transformed into “the Christ of faith.”

For people of that perspective, it matters very much how the Gospels came to be, because all those layers of tradition need to be scraped away so that we can learn about the historical Jesus. For these folks, identifying the earliest possible sources is a matter of prime importance.

Not everybody takes this view, though. There are many advocates of Q who are thoroughly orthodox in their faith and who believe the Gospels as we have them are a reliable guide to the life and teachings of Christ.

In any event, an idea has to be judged by the evidence for or against it, not by how some of its advocates misuse it.

So what about Q?

 

What kind of source are we talking about?

The first question we need to ask is what kind of source Q is supposed to be.

Nobody doubts that the Evangelists used sources when they composed the Gospels. Two of the Evangelists—Mark and Luke—weren’t regarded, even in the early Church, as eyewitnesses of Jesus’ ministry. They had to use sources, and Luke says as much in the prologue to his Gospel, writing:

Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things which have been accomplished among us, just as they were delivered to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may know the truth concerning the things of which you have been informed [Luke 1:1-4].

Here Luke indicates that his account is based on the things that “were delivered to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word”—i.e., those who actually saw the events of Jesus’ life and ministry and those who were authorized bearers of the traditions about Jesus. They were among his sources.

Could Q have been an oral source, derived from one of these eyewitnesses or ministers of the word?

It’s possible, but most scholars today don’t think so. The material in Q is rather extensive—at least the 235 verses paralleled in Matthew and Luke, and possibly more than that (depending on how much of Q each Evangelist left out). What’s more, the material has a narrative structure that proceeds from one event to another. And, if Matthew and Luke wrote independently of each other, it had to be accessible to both.

That’s a lot to ask of an oral source, and so most Q theorists today think that it was a document.

It is very likely that there were documents among Luke’s sources. Although he doesn’t say that he drew upon any, he notes that “many have undertaken to compile a narrative” of what Jesus did, and it is highly likely that he used one or more such documents.

Historically, most scholars thought that he used Matthew. Today, most scholars think that he used Mark. Some scholars even think that he used both.

It is therefore possible that he used a document like Q.

The question is: Did he?

 

Hypothetical vs. Lost

It is worth noting that Q is a hypothetical document. This is not the same thing as a lost document.

We know about lots of documents in the ancient world that have been lost. In some cases, we may have a few quotations from them, preserved by other authors, but in other cases the entire work has vanished and all we know about it is the title, or even just the subject, and possibly its author.

We know about these things because the book is mentioned by one or more ancient authors. For example, several early Church Fathers mention a work called An Exposition of the Oracles of the Lord that was written by Papias, a bishop of Hierapolis who lived in the first and second centuries.

Scholars would love to have a complete copy of this work, but all we have are a few quotations from it preserved by later authors.

We see lost books referred to in the Bible. For example, St. Paul appears to mention several letters that have not survived (see 1 Cor. 5:9, 2:4, 7:8-9, Col. 4:16). Though the matter is debated, these letters appear to be lost, at least in their original forms.

But there is a difference between a lost document and a hypothetical document.

A lost document is one that we know existed. We have definite references to it.

A hypothetical document is one that we don’t know existed. It’s a document that has been proposed even though we don’t have references to it.

Q falls in the latter category, and so its existence is less certain than the various lost documents we know to have existed.

As we’ll see in a future post, there are further reasons to be skeptical that there ever was a Q document.

Who Will Crush the Serpent’s Head?

our-lady-crushes-the-serpent-2In the Douay-Rheims version of the Bible, we read:

Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent beguiled me, and I ate.”

And the Lord God said to the serpent: “Because thou hast done this thing, thou art cursed among all cattle, and beasts of the earth: upon thy breast shalt thou go, and earth shalt thou eat all the days of thy life.

“I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and her seed: she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel” [Gen. 3:13-15].

This translation, found also in many older editions of the Latin Vulgate, is the basis for common depictions in Catholic art of Mary with a serpent beneath her feet.

The idea is that Genesis 3:15 foreshadows the gospel, in which the power of the devil is broken through Jesus, Mary’s Son.

The fact that Genesis 3:15 is, on one level, an early announcement of the gospel is agreed by Christians of many persuasions. But what about this specific translation, where it says “she” shall crush the serpent’s head and the serpent shall strike at “her” heel?

You won’t find that in in a lot of Bibles. Instead, they will say things like what we read in the Revised Standard Version: Catholic Edition:

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel [Gen. 3:15].

Here we have masculine pronouns: “He” shall crush, and “his” heel is in danger.

 

Why the difference?

According to A Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture (Bernard Orchard, et al., ed.s):

It can hardly be doubted that the feminine pronoun had its origin in the error of an early copyist of Vg. In his Lib. Quaest. Heb. in Gen. St Jerome quotes the Old Latin version of this text with the masc. (ipse) and translates the Hebrew with the same, PL 23, 943, and ipse is the reading of various Vg MSS. It is therefore highly improbable that he translated ipsa here [comment on Gen. 3:15b].

This is a little dense and uses some abbreviations that may not be familiar, so let me unpack it:

  • St. Jerome himself quotes the Old Latin (pre-Vulgate) version of the text, in which the masculine pronoun ipse is used.
  • Elsewhere, he also translates it from the Hebrew with the masculine pronoun ipse.
  • Various manuscripts of the Vulgate also include ipse.
  • Therefore, it is improbable that Jerome used the feminine form of the pronoun (ipsa) in his original edition of the Vulgate.
  • Therefore, the use of the feminine form in some editions of the Vulgate is due to an early copyist’s error.

 

What does the Hebrew say?

Whether the commentary is correct on how the feminine pronouns got into the Vulgate (and it likely is correct), they are not there in the Hebrew.

In the Hebrew text of Genesis 3:15, the phrase translated “he will strike” is hu’ y’shuph-ka. Similarly, the phrase translated “will strike his heel” is t’shuphe-nu `aqeb, which more literally is “he will strike him on the heel.

Both of these phrases are unmistakably using the masculine gender:

  • In the first phrase, hu’ is a third person singular masculine pronoun, meaning “he.” The equivalent feminine pronoun (“she”) would be hiy’, not hu’.
  • Also in the first phrase, the verb form y’shuph-ka is masculine: “he will strike.” If it were feminine, it would be t’shuph-ka (“she will strike”).
  • In the second phrase, the pronoun suffix –nu (“him”) is unmistakably masculine. If it were feminine, it would be –ah (“her”).

I’ve heard it suggested that the difference in translation is that, in biblical times, Hebrew did not have written vowels and that these were added later, in medieval times.

It’s true that the text was written using an alphabet of consonants and that points were later added to indicate vowels, but this is not the explanation here.

The relevant gender forms are all indicated in the Hebrew text even if it is written without vowels. The consonants alone tell you that we are using masculine pronouns and verb forms.

An example that is fairly easy to see in English is y’shuph (“he will strike”). In Hebrew, the first letter of that is the consonant yod, and that tells us that it is masculine. If it were feminine (“she will strike”) then it would be t’shuph, and the first letter would be the consonant tav.

 

And the Greek?

The Septuagint—the Greek version of the Old Testament that was used by the authors of the New Testament and that has always been the standard version of the Old Testament among Greek-speaking Christians—similarly has masculine pronouns.

The “he” in “he shall strike” is autos (masculine), not autē (feminine).

Similarly, the “his” in “his heel” is autou (masculine), not autēs (feminine).

 

And the Early Church Fathers?

Similarly, we find the Early Church Fathers using the masculine. For example, the second century Father St. Irenaeus of Lyons wrote:

God said to the serpent, “And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall be on the watch for your head, and you on the watch for His heel” [Against Heresies 5:21:1].

So the Hebrew original, the Greek version used by the New Testament authors and in Greek-speaking Christianity, the pre-Jerome Old Latin edition, various early Fathers, and even Jerome himself all used the masculine rather than the feminine in this passage.

 

Contemporary Recognition

If we look at contemporary ecclesiastical sources, we see that they don’t use the feminine in this text.

For example, in the version of the Vulgate that is on the Vatican’s web site, we read:

Inimicitias ponam inter te et mulierem et semen tuum et semen illius; ipsum conteret caput tuum, et tu conteres calcaneum eius [Gen. 3:15].

This uses ipsum, which is neuter (“it”) rather than feminine. The reason for this gender (which Hebrew lacks) is that the word for “seed” (Latin, semen) is neuter. The idea is that it—the seed of the woman—will strike the serpent’s head.

Similarly, in his encyclical on the Virgin Mary, St. John Paul II wrote:

And so, there comes into the world a Son, “the seed of the woman” who will crush the evil of sin in its very origins: “he will crush the head of the serpent.” As we see from the words of the Protogospel, the victory of the woman’s Son will not take place without a hard struggle, a struggle that is to extend through the whole of human history [Redemptoris Mater 11].

And Benedict XVI stated:

After the original sin, God addresses the serpent, which represents Satan, curses it and adds a promise: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel” (Gn 3: 15) [Angelus, Dec. 8, 2009].

 

Interpreting the Passage

None of this takes away the Marian understanding of the passage, but it does help us take the text on its original terms.

As St. Thomas Aquinas—and the Catechism of the Catholic Church—indicate, “All other senses of Sacred Scripture are based on the literal” (CCC 116).

In the original context, the woman that is being discussed is Eve. It was she who was deceived by the serpent (Gen. 3:13). Her seed, understood in the original context, is all mankind, for “The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living” (Gen. 2:20).

On the literal level, Genesis 3:15 refers—at least in part—to the conflict that men and snakes have historically had between them.

But on a higher, spiritual level, it has other meanings. Since the serpent is also to be understood as the devil (Rev. 12:9), and the “seed” as Christ (cf. Gal. 3:16; the word in Greek is sperma = “seed”), the passage is also to be understood as an annunciation of the gospel, in which Christ defeats the devil.

This does not happen without Mary, and so there is also a Marian dimension to the text.

Thus St. John Paul II stated:

The Father’s plan begins to be revealed in the “Protoevangelium”, when, after the fall of Adam and Eve, God announces that he will put enmity between the serpent and the woman:  it will be the woman’s son who will crush the serpent’s head (cf. Gn 3: 15).

The promise begins to be fulfilled at the Annunciation, when Mary is given the proposal to become the Mother of the Savior [General Audience, Jan. 5, 2000].

In the same way, Benedict XVI continued his discussion of the passage by stating:

It [Gen. 3:15] is the announcement of revenge: at the dawn of the Creation, Satan seems to have the upper hand, but the son of a woman is to crush his head. Thus, through the descendence of a woman, God himself will triumph. Goodness will triumph. That woman is the Virgin Mary of whom was born Jesus Christ who, with his sacrifice, defeated the ancient tempter once and for all. This is why in so many paintings and statues of the Virgin Immaculate she is portrayed in the act of crushing a serpent with her foot [ibid.].

So both pontiffs acknowledge a Marian dimension to the text: It is through her Son that Mary crushes the serpent’s head.

There is thus no need to pit the Marian interpretation against the Christological one. They are in harmony.

Indeed, there is even an even broader interpretation, for every Christian has a part to play in defeating the works of the devil. It is likely that St. Paul is thinking of Genesis 3:15 when, in his letter to the Romans, he writes:

For while your obedience is known to all, so that I rejoice over you, I would have you wise as to what is good and guileless as to what is evil; then the God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you [Rom 16:19-20].

The Feeding of the Four Thousand

feedingthehungryIn the Gospels, the most famous miracle associated with Jesus—other than the Resurrection—is the Feeding of the Five Thousand. It’s recorded in all four Gospels.

But Matthew and Mark record an additional, similar miracle, known as the Feeding of the Four Thousand. The numbers connected with this miracle are a little different (four thousand people are fed, they use seven loaves and “a few small fish,” and they pick up seven baskets of leftovers), but it’s the same basic type of miracle.

That may be why Luke and John chose not to record it: Given the space limitations on ancient books, which needed to fit comfortably within a scroll, they may have concluded that they would only record one miracle of this type, and they picked the more impressive one.

But even if a miraculous multiplication of food has been done before, and on a somewhat larger scale, it’s still impressive! That may be why Matthew and Mark chose to record it.

There may also be another reason, but it requires a little detective work.

 

Jesus’ Travels

Matthew, Mark, and Luke record most of Jesus’ ministry as taking place in Galilee, which is an area north of Judea. In these three Gospels, Jesus is in Judea at the very beginning of his ministry, when he is baptized by John, and again at the end of his ministry, when he is crucified in Jerusalem. Between those points, however, he spends most of his time in Galilee.

But not all of it.

He also makes excursions into Gentile territory, such as when he exorcizes the Gerasene/Gadarene demoniac (Mark 5:1-20). That’s why there was a herd of two thousand pigs in that story—because the Gerasenes were Gentiles and ate pork.

It’s interesting that, at the end of the story, Jesus tells the formerly possessed man to spread the word about what God had done for him. This is the opposite of what Jesus frequently did in Galilee, where he often told people to keep what he did for them quiet.

The apparent reason for this was to try to keep from being mobbed or unwillingly declared king as people came to regard him as a political Messiah (John 6:15).

But since he spent most of his time in Galilee, there was less danger of that, and having the demoniac reveal what Jesus had done for him wouldn’t interfere with his ministry. Indeed, it would help Gentiles learn about the God of Israel!

If you read carefully, though, you see that—as Jesus continues to make excursions into Gentile territory—his reputation starts growing among them.

That brings us to the two feeding miracles.

 

Feeding the Five Thousand

Matthew and Mark say that this miracle occurred in “a lonely place” by the Sea of Galilee, but they don’t say where (Matt. 14:13, Mark 6:32). John is also vague about where it happened (John 6:1), but Luke tells us that it took place near Bethsaida (Luke 9:10).

Bethsaida was the original home of Peter and Andrew (John 1:44). It was a fishing village on the Sea of Galilee. In fact, the name Beth-Tsaida means “House of Fishing.”

It was, in any event, in Jewish territory, and so the Feeding of the Five Thousand involved a predominantly Jewish audience.

What about the other feeding miracle?

 

“Just Who Is Really Unclean, Here?”

In Mark 7, Jesus is criticized by some scribes and Pharisees because his disciples eat without washing their hands, according to Jewish custom. Jesus defends the disciples by saying that it is what comes out of a man’s heart, not what goes into his mouth, that makes him unclean (7:1-23).

Mark then adds an editorial comment to flesh out the implications of this: “Thus he declared all foods clean” (7:19). This was an important thing, since there was a question in the early Church about whether Gentiles had to keep the Jewish food laws (Rom. 14, Gal. 2:11-14, Col. 2:16).

This sets us up for a series of stories involving Gentiles.

First, Mark records Jesus going on an excursion to Tyre and Sidon, which are in modern-day Lebanon, to the north of Galilee. There he encounters the Syrophoenician woman—a Gentile—and exorcizes her daughter (7:24-30).

Mark then states: “Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went through Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, through the region of the Decapolis” (7:31).

The Decapolis was a group of ten cities that lay primarily on the east side of the Jordan River, in what is now the country of Jordan.

At the time, they were Greco-Roman cities, so they were Gentile rather than Jewish. In fact, Gerasa and Gadara were two of the ten cities, and so Jesus is going back into the same territory where he exorcized the demoniac.

But his reputation as a miracle-worker has grown, perhaps as a result of that man’s spreading the word, and he is brought a deaf mute, who he also heals (7:32-37).

Then something really interesting happens.

 

Feeding the Four Thousand

Mark reports:

In those days, when again a great crowd had gathered, and they had nothing to eat, he called his disciples to him, and said to them, “I have compassion on the crowd, because they have been with me now three days, and have nothing to eat; and if I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way; and some of them have come a long way” [Mark 7:1-3].

So the Feeding of the Four Thousand, which occurs in this same sequence of stories involving Gentiles, after Jesus has journeyed into the Decapolis, appears to involve a Gentile audience.

In other words: It’s the Gentile sequel to the Feeding of the Five Thousand.

Jesus may have encountered trouble at home—such as the conflict with the Pharisees over hand washing—but his reputation in the Decapolis has grown to the point that he can now attract an audience of four thousand Gentiles and hold them for three days until they run out of food, leading to the second feeding miracle.

Matthew’s account is similar. In his version there is the conflict with the Pharisees about hand washing (Matt. 15:1-20), then Jesus goes to Tyre and Sidon and exorcizes the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter (Matthew specifically notes that the woman is “a Canaanite,” Matt 15:22). Afterward, as in Mark, Jesus journeys back and “passed along the Sea of Galilee” (Matt. 15:29), which is what you’d likely do to get to the Decapolis.

Matthew doesn’t make it explicit that Jesus was in the Decapolis when he performed the next set of miracles, which included healing “the lame, the maimed, the blind, the dumb, and many others” (Matt. 15:30), but he does say that, “the throng wondered, when they saw the dumb speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel” (Matt. 15:31).

This would be a strange thing to say if the audience were Jewish. Jews already glorified the God of Israel. They did it all the time. They worshipped him daily.

What would be more remarkable—worthy of Matthew making a remark on it—is for Gentiles to glorify the God of Israel.

We’ve already from Mark’s account that the Feeding of the Four Thousand likely involved a predominantly Gentile audience, and the crowd that glorifies the God of Israel in Matthew turns out to be the same crowd of four thousand that he immediately proceeds to feed (Matt. 15:32-38).

It thus looks like both Matthew and Mark subtly portray the Feeding of the Four Thousand as the Gentile sequel to the Feeding of the Five Thousand, foreshadowing the including of Jews and Gentiles within his Church.

Not My Will, But Yours Be Done: Another View

jesus-prays-garden-meltonRecently, Gretchen Passantino-Coburn posted an interesting piece on whether Jesus was trying to avoid the Cross when he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane.

The piece very correctly points out that Jesus knew it was his Father’s will for him to die on the Cross and that he lived his life in complete submission to the Father’s will (thus also setting an example for us).

As a result, there was never any conflict between his will and the Father’s, properly speaking.

What are we to make, then, of his prayer, “Not my will by yours be done”?

The article makes a striking proposal:

[W]e argue below that it was not death on the cross that Christ was longing to avoid, but death in the Garden before the cross; and that Christ’s will was not different than the Father’s will, but in harmony with the Fathers’ will. We argue below that Christ, in danger of expiring in the Garden, cried out to the Father for the necessary power either to remain alive through his Garden experience, or, if he expired in the Garden, to be revived by the Father so that he would be alive for his coming crucifixion.

I have a different understanding of this passage, and Gretchen has very graciously invited me to do a follow-up piece for purposes of discussion.

 

The First Question

The first question we need to address is whether Jesus was about to expire in the garden of Gethsemane. According to the article,

Jesus was in danger of dying in the Garden. Luke says, “And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground” (Luke 22:44). Matthew and Mark affirm, “he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me” (Matt. 26:37-38, cf. Mark 14:33-34).

[Theologian J. Oliver] Buswell notes that profuse perspiration is a medical sign of life-threatening shock, when the body is so traumatized that it cannot control basic life sustaining functions and instead “shuts down” preparatory to death.

What should we make of this argument?

 

“I Could Die”

The statement that he is sorrowful “to the point of death” is generally understood as hyperbole (exaggeration to make a point). This is a common mode of expression in the Bible and one that Jesus uses in the Gospels.

We even have similar sayings in English where the possibility of death is raised without it being meant literally (e.g., “I’m so embarrassed I could die”).

The possibility (probability) of hyperbole is so significant in this case that Jesus’ statement about being sorrowful “to the point of death” can’t be relied upon as proof he was literally about to die in the garden.

The argument for the claim thus depends critically on Jesus’ sweat becoming like blood and this being an indication of imminent death.

 

Is the Text Original?

The statement that his sweat became like blood is found only in Luke 22:44. It is not in Matthew, Mark, or John.

However, there are significant reasons to question whether this material was originally in the text of Luke. Most modern Bibles will carry a footnote on verses 43 and 44, like this one from the New American Bible:

These verses, though very ancient, were probably not part of the original text of Luke. They are absent from the oldest papyrus manuscripts of Luke and from manuscripts of wide geographical distribution.

It is risky to make a dramatic interpretive claim (Jesus was about to die in the garden barring divine intervention) concerning an event found in all three of the Synoptics if the key detail is found only in one Gospel and there is strong reason to think it was not in the original.

 

Is Bloody Sweat a Sign of Imminent Death?

If we assume that the statement was in the original, there is still a problem, because Buswell appears to have been mistaken about the nature of this phenomenon.

While rare, bloody sweat is a known medical condition. Referred to as hematidrosis (Greek, “blood-sweat”), it is caused when the capillaries rupture into the sweat glands.

When it does occur, hematidrosis frequently is the result of anxiety, and it has been successfully treated with beta-blockers such as propranolol, which are used (among other things) to treat anxiety.

However, it does not appear that hematidrosis is “a medical sign of life-threatening shock, when the body is so traumatized that it cannot control basic life sustaining functions and instead ‘shuts down’ preparatory to death.”

The condition is not on that order of magnitude. While often produced by anxiety, the condition is a dermatological one that involves the capillaries leaking into the sweat glands, not a sign of overall systemic shutdown.

I did a quick review of online medical literature and turned up many cases where hematidrosis was not a sign of impending death. (See, for example, here, where patients are noted to have had repeated instances of hematidrosis.)

Buswell, writing in the early 1960s, may have had less access to medical information about hematidrosis. In fact, the condition is rare enough that it had not been studied as much then as it has been now. As a result, it could be understandable for Buswell to draw inaccurate conclusions.

 

A Clearer Indication? An Explanation?

It also strikes me that, if the Evangelists meant us to understand that Jesus was about to die on the spot, in contravention of God’s plan for him to die on the Cross, they would have signaled this to the readers in a clearer way.

They also likely would have provided some explanation for why this last-minute crisis was occurring.

For example, was it a final attempt by Satan to foil God’s plan?

If so, how do we explain the Gospels’ insistence that it was Satan who prompted Judas to betray Jesus? Furthermore, Jesus himself describes his arrest (not the agony in the garden) as “the hour of darkness” (Luke 22:53), suggesting that Satan was behind it.

But if it wasn’t the devil that tried to bring about Jesus’ death in the garden, what did? It wasn’t the Father’s plan for him to die there, and so it wouldn’t have been the Father.

That would leave us with either an accident that seems to threaten God’s Providence or Jesus simply having a panic attack so severe that it threatened his life.

Personally, I’d be inclined to resist either of those suggestions.

 

An Alternative Theory

As an alternative theory of the event, I would propose that Jesus knew in advance that he would die on the Cross and that he was resolute toward this goal. However, it is one thing when death is remote and another when it is staring one in the face.

Thus Christ was able to deal serenely with the prospect of Lazarus’s death—and even remark on how it would bring glory to God—when he was still in Galilee (John 11:1-4), but he nevertheless wept when he was standing at Lazarus’s tomb (John 11:35-36).

This response is rooted in the death aversion that is part of human nature. Being in proximity to death causes aversive feelings in humans (fear, sorrow, revulsion), and that’s a good thing. It is part of God’s plan, and it leads us to try to preserve life.

By virtue of his human nature, Jesus had death aversion also, and—as with the rest of us—it manifested with particular intensity when the hour of his death drew close.

Nevertheless, he was resolute to go through with the climax of his mission.

 

“Not My Will But Yours Be Done”

Jesus statement “Not my will but yours be done” does not indicate an actual opposition of wills. Indeed, it indicates the opposite—that he is completely submissive to the Father’s will.

The paradoxical nature of this statement is to be understood along the lines of similar paradoxical statements that Jesus’ makes—e.g., “He who saves his life will lose it,” “The first will be last.”

These statements rely on ambiguity of language for their solution (i.e., they rely on the fact that terms like “saving” and “losing” and “first” and “last” can be taken in different senses).

In this case, the term that is subject to ambiguity is “will.” This can indicate a determination, decision, or choice—or it can indicate a wish, preference, desire, or similar emotional rather than volitional state.

One can even recognize that one’s wish is not going to be fulfilled, but still give voice to it as a way of expressing one’s feelings.

That ambiguity seems to be in play here. By making his statement, Jesus is expressing his fundamental submission to the Father’s will while giving voice to the fact that he is experiencing death aversion. His statement could be paraphrased, less paradoxically, as “Not what I might wish, but may what you determine be done.”

 

Feelings vs. Resolve

This does not imply that Jesus’ will is not united to the Father’s. Indeed, he indicates that it is united to the Father’s.

Rather, it implies that Jesus is feeling something different than what he wills. What he wills is to do what the Father has determined, but he is experiencing the feelings of aversion that are normal for human beings in the presence of their own, imminent demise.

His giving voice to those feelings allows him to achieve an emotional release—just as when he wept or when he cried out in anguish—but his will is still in submission to the Father’s.

This incident thus highlights the dynamics of Jesus’ experience as a man. We also find ourselves in situations, particularly when we are suffering or preparing to die, where we need to say what we’re feeling as part of dealing with our emotions—even though we are resolved in our wills to a particular course of action.

By way of conclusion, I’d like to thank Gretchen and Bob Passantino for defending the fact that Jesus was always resolved to do the Father’s will, and I’d like to thank Gretchen for her gracious invitation to do this post.