Bible – Page 22 – Jimmy Akin

Who Will Crush the Serpent’s Head?

In 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

In 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

Recently, 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.

Paul Never Quoted Jesus?

A common claim in some skeptical circles is that St. Paul never quoted Jesus.

A second common claim is that, if he had reliable knowledge of Jesus, he would have quoted him.

The conclusion that is drawn from these premises is that St. Paul was not a reliable source on Jesus.

Since St. Paul’s letters are among the earliest works of the New Testament, some proceed from there to argue either that historical knowledge of Jesus is impossible or even that he didn’t exist.

Such arguments are highly problematic.

The Second Premise

First, let’s consider the premise that Paul should have quoted Jesus if he had reliable knowledge of him.

Is that true?

It would be true if, in his letters, Paul was offering detailed catechesis on the life and ministry of Jesus (the way the Gospels do).

However, if Paul is not intending to offer detailed catechesis about the life and ministry of Jesus, he would have much less occasion to quote him.

The fact is that St. Paul’s epistles do not attempt to offer detailed catechesis. He is writing largely in a pastoral vein, dealing, for example, with various problems that have arisen in the churches he has founded or is planning to visit.

As a result, he would have much less occasion to quote Jesus. The only time it would be relevant for him to do so is if Jesus said something directly relevant to the problem he is dealing with.

Even then, he need not do so. Just because Jesus said something relevant does not mean that it must be quoted.

Christians today write on all kinds of subjects without being forced to quote everything Jesus said that might be relevant to the issue at hand.

The First Premise

Then there’s the first premise–that Paul never quoted Jesus.

Um, dude? 1 Corinthians 11?

[23] For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread

[24] and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

[25] In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”

Is that the only time? Nope. Off the top of my head, there’s also 1 Timothy 6:

[18] for the scripture says, “You shall not muzzle an ox when it is treading out the grain,” and, “The laborer deserves his wages.”

That’s a quotation of a saying of Jesus that is also preserved in Luke 10:7.

It should be pointed out that, in the latter case, many skeptics will challenge Paul’s authorship of 1 Timothy, but the arguments that he had no hand in the letter are weak, and in any event 1 Corinthians is of undisputed Pauline authorship.

Then there are cases in which Paul does not directly quote Jesus but does directly allude to his thought.

One of these is in 1 Corinthians 7:

[10] To the married I give charge, not I but the Lord, that the wife should not separate from her husband

[11] (but if she does, let her remain single or else be reconciled to her husband) — and that the husband should not divorce his wife.

This reflects Jesus’ teaching on divorce and remarriage as found, e.g., in Mark 10:11-12 and Luke 16:18.

Note that Paul elsewhere acknowledges when he isn’t able to document something from Jesus’ teachings. Later in the same chapter, he writes:

[25] Now concerning the unmarried, I have no command of the Lord, but I give my opinion as one who by the Lord’s mercy is trustworthy.

And there are places where he alludes to Jesus’ teaching without making the allusion explicit (he’s trusting the reader already to know the source). An example is found in 1 Corinthians 13, where he says:

[2] And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.

The concept of faith moving mountains is an apparent reference to a teaching of Jesus that is preserved in the Gospels (Matt. 17:20, Mark 11:23).

One could go on, but what we’ve already seen is enough to reveal how flawed are the claims that Paul never quoted or was unfamiliar with the teachings of the historical Jesus.

Did the First Christians Believe in the Empty Tomb or Not?

The four Gospels all mention the empty tomb of Christ, which has become a mainstay of modern apologetics.

But some argue that the idea of the empty tomb was a late development in early Christianity—that it only arose decades after the Crucifixion, and that early Christians thought Jesus had been “spiritually” raised from the dead, not literally.

It was only with the passage of time that this spiritual resurrection was interpreted as a literal one, leading to the idea of the empty tomb.

In arguing for this view, advocates of this view might ask why earlier documents of the New Testament don’t mention the empty tomb.

This is, in fact, something that Philip Jenkins is wondering about . . .

Jenkins on the Empty Tomb

Over at his blog, Dr. Jenkins writes:

Let me pose the problem. From the time of Mark’s gospel, around 70, the empty tomb became central to the Resurrection narrative, so central in fact that Jews evolve rival stories to account for the absence of Jesus’s body (Matt. 28. 11-15). The story evidently mattered in religious polemic. Over the next thirty years or so, the story is repeated in various forms in three other gospels. Yet even Luke, who knows the story, makes no use of it in Acts. Before the 90s, moreover, (the time of Matthew and Luke), the one account that we do have of the empty tomb does not refer to visions of a bodily risen Jesus at or near the site.

Where is the empty tomb story before 70?

Suppose I face an atheist critic, who makes the following argument. Yes, he says, early Christians believed that they encountered the risen Jesus, that they had visions, but these visions had no objective reality. They just arose from the hopes and expectations of superstitious disciples. Even then, Christians saw that Resurrection in spiritual, pneumatic, terms. Only after a lengthy period, some forty years in fact, did the church invent stories to give a material, bodily basis to that phenomenon, and the empty tomb was the best known example.

How can I respond? Help me.

Some have already responded in his combox, but I’d like to provide a fuller response, so let’s go.

Challenging a Premise

My first response to an atheist critic would be that I don’t accept one of the premises—that the Gospels were written at such late dates.

The book of Acts suddenly stops, without resolving the story of Paul’s trial and imprisonment, in A.D. 60. Whether Paul was exonerated or executed, either would have been a fitting ending to Acts, and the best explanation for why Luke stopped writing without finishing the story is that those events simply had not happened yet. In other words, Acts was written in A.D. 60.

Since Acts is the sequel to the Gospel of Luke, that means Luke was written no later than A.D. 60 and possibly quite a bit earlier.

Depending on your theory of the order in which the Gospels were composed, either Matthew or Mark (or both) were written before Luke, and that would push them into at least the A.D. 50s, which is the same period that most of Paul’s epistles were being written.

Indeed, in 2 Corinthians 8:18, written in the mid A.D. 50s, Paul tells the readers that he is sending them “the brother whose praise is in the Gospel.” This may be a reference to either Mark or Luke, both sometime travelling companions of Paul and both authors of Gospels.

Even John shows signs of being written in the A.D. 60s. He refers to things in Jerusalem as still standing that would have been devastated in A.D. 70 (cf. John 5:2), and in the literal Greek of John 21:19 he speaks of Peter’s death—which took place in A.D. 67—as still in the future (“This he said to show by what death he [Peter] will glorify God”—future tense in the Greek). (There’s also the fact that John expressly claims to be written by an eyewitness of the empty tomb itself.)

So, despite the dates you commonly hear assigned to the Gospels, the evidence is that they were actually written quite a bit earlier, and their composition overlapped the period in which the epistles were written (see John A. T. Robinson, Redating the New Testament for more).

Challenging a Second Premise

KEEP READING.

Did St. Paul and St. Peter Fake a Fight?

In Galatians, St. Paul says at one point:

But when Cephas came to Antioch I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned.

For before certain men came from James, he ate with the Gentiles; but when they came he drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party.

And with him the rest of the Jews acted insincerely, so that even Barnabas was carried away by their insincerity.

But when I saw that they were not straightforward about the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?” [Gal. 2:11-14].

What are we to make of this?

Some among the Church Fathers thought that this was a fake disagreement that Paul and Peter engaged in for teaching purposes.

For example, in his Commentary on Galatians, St. Jerome states:

Now, if anyone thinks that Paul really opposed Peter and fearlessly insulted his predecessor in defense of evangelical truth, he will not be moved by the fact that Paul acted as a Jew among fellow Jews in order to win them for Christ. What is more, Paul would have been guilty of the same kind of dissimulation on other occasions, such as when he shared his head in Cenchrea, when he made an offering in Jerusalem after doing this, when he circumcised Timothy and went barefoot-all of which are clearly aspects of Jewish religious ritual.

Later, he writes:

Just as people who walk normally but pretend to limp do not have a problem with their feet, though there is a reason why they [pretend to] limp, so also Peter, aware that neither circumcision nor uncircumcision matters but only keeping the commandments of God, ate beforehand with Gentiles but for a time withdrew from them to avoid alienating the Jews from their faith in Christ. Paul likewise employed the same pretense as Peter and confronted him and spoke in front of everyone, not so much to rebuke Peter as to correct those for whose sake Peter had engaged in simulation. Now, if anyone is not convinced by this interpretation, that Peter was not in error and Paul did not rashly rebuke his elder, he must account for why Paul criticized another for doing the same thing he had done.

St. John Chrysostom has the same interpretation here, and Jerome reports that Origen held it as well, though it does not appear in his surviving writings.

The Church Fathers were far from unanimous in this opinion, however, and it seems that Jerome and the others were in the minority.

The majority view, represented by St. Augustine, was that the two apostles had a real difference of opinion about the appropriateness of Peter’s actions. St. Augustine, in particular, points out that Jerome’s theory would involve the two apostles in lying.

A while back, I was reading one of Pope Benedict XVI’s audiences, where he weighed in on the subject:

Here the other epicenter of Mosaic observance emerges: the distinction between clean and unclean foods which deeply separated practicing Jews from Gentiles. At the outset Cephas, Peter, shared meals with both; but with the arrival of certain Christians associated with James, “the Lord’s brother” (Gal 1: 19), Peter began to avoid contact with Gentiles at table in order not to shock those who were continuing to observe the laws governing the cleanliness of food and his decision was shared by Barnabas.

This decision profoundly divided the Christians who had come from circumcision and the Christians who came from paganism.

This behavior, that was a real threat to the unity and freedom of the Church, provoked a passionate reaction in Paul who even accused Peter and the others of hypocrisy: “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews?” (Gal 2: 14).

In fact, the thought of Paul on the one hand, and of Peter and Barnabas on the other, were different: for the latter the separation from the Gentiles was a way to safeguard and not to shock believers who came from Judaism; on the contrary, for Paul it constituted the danger of a misunderstanding of the universal salvation in Christ, offered both to Gentiles and Jews.

If justification is only achieved by virtue of faith in Christ, of conformity with him, regardless of any effect of the Law, what is the point of continuing to observe the cleanliness of foods at shared meals? In all likelihood the approaches of Peter and Paul were different: the former did not want to lose the Jews who had adhered to the Gospel, and the latter did not want to diminish the saving value of Christ’s death for all believers.

It has been noted that the fact that, after describing his rebuke of Peter, Paul does not immediately say, “And I won, and Peter agreed with me!” is a sign that he actually lost the argument.

If so, it may have given him cause for further reflection, which may have led him to consider situations in which some accommodation to Jewish practices was warranted–even if the situation in Antioch was not one of them. Pope Benedict noted:

It is strange to say but in writing to the Christians of Rome a few years later (in about the middle of the 50s A.D.), Paul was to find himself facing a similar situation and asked the strong not to eat unclean foods in order not to lose or scandalize the weak: “it is right not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything that makes your brother stumble” (Rm 14: 21).

The incident at Antioch thus proved to be as much of a lesson for Peter as it was for Paul.

Only sincere dialogue, open to the truth of the Gospel, could guide the Church on her journey: “For the kingdom of God does not mean food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Rm 14: 17).

It is a lesson that we too must learn: with the different charisms entrusted to Peter and to Paul, let us all allow ourselves to be guided by the Spirit, seeking to live in the freedom that is guided by faith in Christ and expressed in service to the brethren [General Audience, Oct. 1, 2008].

Thus Paul might have regarded Peter as wrong in the Antioch incident but have been led to more closely consider situations in which accommodating Jewish practices was permissible and even needed.

That could explain Jerome’s question about Paul later did similar things himself.

8 things to know and share about the Annunciation

The Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary to announce the birth of Christ. Here are 9 things you need to know about the event and how we celebrate it.

This Monday we’re going to be celebrating the solemnity of the Annunciation.

This day celebrates the appearance of the Angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary to announce of the birth of Christ.

What’s going on and why is this day important?

Here are 8 things you need to know.

1. What does the word “Annunciation” mean?

It’s derived from the same root as the word “announce.” Gabriel is announcing the birth of Christ in advance.

“Annunciation” is simply an old-fashioned way of saying “announcement.”

Although we are most familiar with this term being applied to the announcement of Christ’s birth, it can be applied in other ways also.

For example, in his book Jesus of Nazareth 3: The Infancy Narratives, Benedict XVI has sections on both “The annunciation of the birth of John” and “The annunciation to Mary,” because John the Baptist’s birth was also announced in advance.

2. When is the Annunciation normally celebrated and why does it sometimes move?

Normally the Solemnity of the Annunciation is celebrated on March 25th.

This date is used because it is nine months before Christmas (December 25th), and it is assumed that Jesus spent the normal nine months in the womb.

However, March 25th sometimes falls during Holy Week, and the days of Holy Week have a higher liturgical rank than this solemnity (weekdays of Holy Week have rank I:2, while this solemnity has a rank of I:3; see here for the Table of Liturgical Days by their ranks).

Still, the Annunciation is an important solemnity, and so it doesn’t just vanish from the calendar. Instead, as the rubrics in the Roman Missal note:

Whenever this Solemnity occurs during Holy Week, it is transferred to the Monday after the Second Sunday of Easter.

It is thus celebrated on the first available day after Holy Week and the Octave of Easter (which ends on the Second Sunday of Easter).

3. How does this story parallel the birth of John the Baptist?

KEEP READING.

The Bishops as Successors of the Apostles

It is well known that the Church regards the bishops as the successors of the apostles.

For example, the Second Vatican Council taught:

This Sacred Council, following closely in the footsteps of the First Vatican Council, with that Council teaches and declares that Jesus Christ, the eternal Shepherd, established His holy Church, having sent forth the apostles as He Himself had been sent by the Father; and He willed that their successors, namely the bishops, should be shepherds in His Church even to the consummation of the world [Lumen Gentium 18].

Does this mean that the bishops are all really apostles, with a different name? Are they successors in that sense?

No. They are the successors of the apostles in the sense that the apostles were originally the highest office in the Church and, when they passed from the scene, they left the bishops in charge.

The bishops thus succeeded the apostles by becoming the highest leaders in the Church, but not by becoming apostles.

Can we document that?

Yes. There is an appendix to Lumen Gentium that clarifies the matter (printed after the main body of the document at the link). It says:

The parallel between Peter and the rest of the Apostles on the one hand, and between the Supreme Pontiff and the bishops on the other hand, does not imply the transmission of the Apostles’ extraordinary power to their successors; nor does it imply, as is obvious, equality between the head of the College and its members, but only a proportionality between the first relationship (Peter-Apostles) and the second (Pope-bishops) [Preliminary Note of Explanation 1].

So, stating that the bishops are the successors of the apostles “does not imply the transmission of the apostles’ extraordinary power to their successors,” the bishops. They are their successors in a different sense.

How Many Apostles Were There?

There were twelve apostles, right?

Actually, it’s more complicated than that.

An initial complication is the fact that Judas Iscariot died and was replaced by Matthias (Acts 1:12-26).

You could look at that and say, “Okay, there were thirteen apostles, total, but only twelve at one time.”

What about Paul?

Some (at least some in the Protestant community) have suggested that, since the New Testament doesn’t record Matthias as having done anything, his election wasn’t valid, and Paul was Judas’s real replacement—again allowing for the total to be only twelve at one time.

This is a bad argument, though.

Why It’s Bad

First, the New Testament does not present Matthias’s election as invalid. It presents it in a straight-forward way with the ultimate conclusion that Matthias “was enrolled with the eleven apostles” (Acts 1:26).

Second, the New Testament does not have to record an apostle as having “done something” for him to be an apostle. The New Testament records next to nothing—or, depending on how you identify different biblical figures—it event records nothing at all about what some of the apostles did. Yet it explicitly names them as apostles.

Third, if the New Testament does not record Matthias as having done anything, the Church Fathers do. For example, Eusebius records that Matthias was noted for preaching self-control to avoid sexual immorality. According to Eusebius:

But they say that Matthias also taught in the same manner that we ought to fight against and abuse the flesh, and not give way to it for the sake of pleasure, but strengthen the soul by faith and knowledge [Ecclesiastical History III:29].

Fourth, if the claim were to be made on Protestant premises then it would have to be defensible by sola scriptura—the claim that we should be able to prove theological points “by Scripture alone.” Yet there seems to be no place in Scripture requiring there to be only twelve living apostles.

Instead, the New Testament treats both Matthias and Paul as valid apostles.

Not of the Twelve

The logical way to look at Paul, therefore, is that he was a valid apostle but not one of “the Twelve.”

The New Testament never refers to him as one of the Twelve apostles.

He was ordained to ministry, in Acts 13, in Antioch, not by the apostles in Jerusalem, as Matthias was.

And he was not a witness of the ministry of Jesus in the way that Matthias was. Peter made it clear that this was a requirement for being one of the Twelve:

So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us,beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these men must become with us a witness to his resurrection [Acts 1:21-22].

We thus see that the Twelve were a distinct group that accompanied Jesus during his earthly ministry and who served as witnesses of this and his resurrection.

Paul did not become a follower of Jesus until after the Ascension, so he could not belong to the Twelve.

He did, however, have an apparition of Jesus (he calls it a vision in Acts 26:19), in which he was called to be an apostle, and thus he asks the rhetorical questions: “Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? Are not you my workmanship in the Lord?” (1 Cor. 9:1).

He thus appears to base his call to apostleship on his apparition of Jesus rather than of having been a follower of his during his earthly ministry.

This indicates that there could be apostles beyond the Twelve, who were witnesses of Christ’s ministry.

Are there any other apostles who weren’t members of the Twelve?

Yes. There is at least one who is easy to name . . .

Barnabas

Paul and Barnabas are both set apart ministry together, on the instructions of the Holy Spirit, in Acts 13. The paralleling of the two suggests the two have the same office, and this is confirmed in the next chapter, as the men of Lystra attempt to worship them as gods. Luke reports:

But when the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard of it, they tore their garments and rushed out among the multitude, crying, “Men, why are you doing this? [Acts 14:14-15].

Here Barnabas is called an apostle. He is even mentioned before Paul (which is not unexpected; Barnabas was the more prominent figure early on).

So we have at least one more apostle—besides Paul—who was not one of the Twelve.

Are there others?

Maybe Apostles: Silas and Timothy

It is argued that the New Testament refers to several additional individuals as apostles.

Two of these are Silas and Timothy. They are listed, along with Paul, as joint-senders of 1 Thessalonians (see 1 Thess. 1:1). That doesn’t make them apostles, but later in the letter Paul is speaking of a time when he visited the church in Thessalonica, and he says:

For we never used either words of flattery, as you know, or a cloak for greed, as God is witness; nor did we seek glory from men, whether from you or from others, though we might have made demands as apostles of Christ [1 Thess. 2:5-6].

Since he uses the plural here—“we”—he may be including Silas and Timothy as fellow apostles.

On the other hand, he may have slipped into a rhetorical “we” that does not mean to include Silas and Timothy.

A Maybe Apostle: Apollos

The same thing is true of Apollos. In 1 Corinthians Paul speaks of himself and two other ministers of Christ—Peter and Apollos—and subsequently says:

For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men [1 Cor. 4:9].

Here he could be including Apollos among the apostles, but he may not be. He may be thinking of “us apostles” in a more general sense that refers to all the apostles and may not include Apollos.

The Thorny Case of James

In Galatians, Paul describes an occasion when he visited Jerusalem, and he writes:

Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas, and remained with him fifteen days. But I saw none of the other apostles except James the Lord’s brother [Gal. 1:18-19].

This can naturally be read as placing James the Lord’s brother (also known as James the Just) among the apostles. Indeed, this would fit with the common to identification of this James with “James the son of Alphaeus” or “James the Less,” who was one of the Twelve apostles.

But there is reason to question that identification, as Pope Benedict XVI noted:

Among experts, the question of the identity of these two figures with the same name, James son of Alphaeus and James “the brother of the Lord,” is disputed. With reference to the period of Jesus’ earthly life, the Gospel traditions have not kept for us any account of either one of them [General Audience, June 28, 2006].

One reason for thinking that the two are different figures is that John directly states that Jesus “brothers” were not believers during his earthly ministry (John 7:5), though they came to be later, and they assumed prominent positions in the Church.

Various passages in the New Testament distinguish the “brethren” of the Lord from the apostles and disciples, and so many have proposed that James the Just is a relative of Jesus (likely a step-brother or cousin) who was not one of the original Twelve.

Thus, St. Paul may regard him as a fellow apostle who was not one of the Twelve. The same may have been true of other brethren of the Lord.

The Probably-Not Apostles: Andronicus and Junia/Junias

There are also figures in the New Testament that were probably not apostles, though a case has been made for the claim that they were.

Two of them are Andronicus and Junia, who Paul mentions in Romans 16:7 as being “of note among the apostles.”

This has been taken to mean that Andronicus and Junia were not only apostles but that they were famous ones.

Really?

If they were so noteworthy as apostles, why don’t we know anything else about them?

The passage is a favorite among those who would like to have women’s ordination, because “Junia” is a female name, and that would point to a female apostle, seemingly opening the way for a female priesthood.

However, there are other ways of reading the text. The name may be “Junias” (a male name) rather than “Junia.” The Greek can be read either way, though Junia was a more common name than Junias.

Even so, Andronicus and “Junias” were unlikely to be apostles of note since we know nothing else but what Paul says about them (that they were his kinsmen and that they were Christians before he was).

If they weren’t noteworthy apostles then they probably weren’t apostles at all, because the text can be taken in a very different sense.

“Of note among the apostles” may not mean that they had a reputation for being famous as apostles but that they were noteworthy to the apostles. In other words, the apostolic community had taken note of them for their special accomplishments in the faith.

If so, then Andronicas and his wife Junia were simply a Christian couple who, out of zeal, had done things which caught the attention of the apostles, and Paul was complimenting them on it.

An Apostle in a Different Sense: Epaphroditus

Another figure who probably was not an apostle in the familiar sense is Epaphroditus of Philippi.

Although, in Philippians 2:25, Paul refers to him using the word “apostle,” he makes it clear that Epaphroditus is “your apostle” who Paul is returning to them.

In other words, Epaphroditus was sent by the church at Philippi to Paul, and now he is sending him back.

Many translations thus render the word “messenger” in this verse, because it seems to be the ordinary Greek usage of the word apolostolos (one who is sent) rather than the technical usage the term acquired for those who had been sent on special mission by Jesus Christ himself.

Unknown Apostles?

Given the ambiguity of who counted as an apostle in some cases, and the fact that apostles were not limited to the Twelve, we can’t rule out the possibility that there were other apostles.

These may have been men who are completely unknown to us, or we might know their names but not know that they were regarded as apostles.

False Apostles

We do know that there were other men who at least claimed to be apostles. Some may have even claimed a higher title. The Greek phrase Paul uses to describe them is huperlian apostolon, and it has been translated various ways: “super apostles,” “hyper apostles,” “superlative apostles,” “great apostles,” etc. Paul clearly uses this term sarcastically, but it may actually have been one that these individuals were applying to themselves.

In any event, Paul tells us:

I think that I am not in the least inferior to these superlative apostles [2 Cor. 11:5].

One could wonder if he is thinking of the Jerusalem apostles as the highest ranking apostles, but what he goes on to say makes this interpretation impossible:

For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ [2 Cor. 11:13].

While there may have been tensions between Paul and some members of the Jerusalem church, he would never have described the original Twelve in this way.

That tells us that there was another, shadowy group of men who were claiming to be apostles and encroaching on Paul’s missionary work in Corinth. They also held an exalted view of themselves, and Paul tells us this about them:

Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I [2 Cor. 11:22].

They were therefore of Jewish origin, not Gentile, and they were probably associated with the Judaizing movement that claimed Gentiles needed to be circumcised and become Jews in order to be saved. We know this because Paul tells his readers at Corinth:

If you accept a different gospel from the one you accepted, you submit to it readily enough [2 Cor. 11:4].

In context, this is a reference to the missionary work of the “super apostles,” and since Paul elsewhere identifies Judaizers as preachers of a false gospel (Gal. 1:6-12, 2:1-10), that is likely what we are dealing with here.

In any event, since these men were false apostles, they do not add to the count of true apostles. They do, however, reveal that the title was being used quite a bit more broadly than the Twelve by some in the first century.

There is also one more apostle, one who was both true and who would have had a claim to the title “superlative apostle” . . .

The Ultimate Apostle

Many people are surprised to learn it, but the book of Hebrews refers to Jesus Christ himself as an apostle:

Therefore, holy brethren, who share in a heavenly call, consider Jesus, the apostle and high priest of our confession [Heb. 3:1].

Jesus is not an apostle in the same sense as his own apostles were. They are apostles of Jesus Christ (that is, sent by Jesus Christ). Jesus is an apostle of a higher sort. Here he is called the apostle “of our confession,” of our faith itself.

And we know who it was who sent Jesus to proclaim our faith. Jesus himself told us:

For I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me [John 6:38].

God the Father sent him, and so Jesus can be described as the Apostle of the Father or the Apostle of God.

An Unanswerable Question

Because of all the factors we have seen that play into the question of how many apostles there were, we must ultimately leave the question unanswered.

Not only were there apostles of different kinds, even if we restrict ourselves to the kind of apostle that the Twelve, Barnabas, Paul, and others were, we know too little to establish a definitive list.

There are debatable cases, and there may be unknown ones, as well.

Trying to answer the question, though, turns up some interesting things.

Mary as a Source

I’ve been working on a project seeing how much can be determined about the particular sources that were used by the Evangelists in writing their Gospels.

Not hypothetical sources like Q, but actual, nameable individuals.

It’s been an interesting study!

One thing that I’ve long been aware of is that the Virgin Mary seems to be the primary source for the material in Luke 1 and 2. She wasn’t present for all of it (e.g., when Zechariah was alone in the Temple), but she was the one through whom these family stories were transmitted to Luke.

Very likely, he interviewed her personally, though if not, she was the one who was the primary tradent (tradition preserver) for that material.

Could she have served as the primary tradent for another of the Evangelists?

How about John? After all, he received her into his home on an ongoing basis after the Crucifixion. He would have had a lot of time to learn things about Jesus that could have ended up in his Gospel.

Do we detect evidence of that happening?

A notable case is the Wedding at Cana. Here’s how John introduces it:

On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there;
Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples [John 2:1-2].

Got that?

John tells us about this wedding and then the first thing he wants us to know about who was there is that Jesus’ mother was.

Oh, and, Jesus “also” was invited “with” his disciples.

That puts an unusual emphasis on Mary. Normally, you would expect the sequence to be Jesus was there, with his disciples, and his mother. Or possibly, Jesus was their, and his mother, and his disciples.

But not his mother first, then Jesus, then the disciples.

Mary is also the primary figure motivating the action in this narrative.

“They have no wine,” she says to Jesus.

“Do whatever he tells you,” she says to the servants.

One of the things that the Evangelists often do is have a named, focal character who was part of the early Christian community and who is often mentioned first in a given section, and there are good odds that this was the primary tradent for the story.

Since Mary is mentioned first–and since she is the primary figure interacting with Jesus in the story–the odds are very high that Mary was the primary tradent and that John is signaling this fact to us.

Cool, huh?