9.22.2009
Hengel on the Old Testament Canon
Michael Bird quotes a significant statement from renowned scholar Martin Hengel on the closed versus open nature of the Old Testament canon based upon its relation to its usage (along with other, non-canonical literature) by NT authors. Read the quote and Bird's reflections here.
9.15.2009
Patronage
Erlend MacGillivray's article is a trenchant criticism of the over-application of the Roman patronage system to the broader Greco-Roman world and, indeed, to the New Testament. Read it here.
9.06.2009
Ancient Wall Discovered in Jerusalem
A large, ancient wall has been uncovered in Jerusalem. Check out the story here.
About the wall: it's said to be 3,700 years old, and stood "8 meters (26 feet) high."
About the wall: it's said to be 3,700 years old, and stood "8 meters (26 feet) high."
"To build straight walls up 8 meters ... I don't know how to do it today without mechanical equipment," said the excavation's director, Ronny Reich. "I don't think that any engineer today without electrical power [could] do it."
Amazing.
8.26.2009
Good Reads
Good musings on a Greek phrase over at Cafe Apocalypsis. Reflections on our ignorance of the historical Jesus by Mark Goodacre at The Bible and Interpretation.
6.27.2009
Associations in Roman Asia Minor
Wow, two months since I've posted. Work has been crazy! Before I got so busy, I read a book by Philip Harland on assocational life in Roman Asia Minor, a very interesting one at that.
Harland's analysis of the place of associations in the Greek East of the Roman empire begins with a critique of the former scholarly consensus about the character of associations, which saw them in large part as subversive "clubs." In this view, members of associations, drawn largerly from the lower classes, gathered together according to religious commitments, ethnicity, occupation, etc. as a way to feel connected; this desire for connectedness, moreover, was prompted by a sense of dislocation from civic mechanisms as the Roman Republic became the Roman Empire. Associational activity, then, was a way to express and relieve a deep-seated angst.
In exposing this consensus to critique, Harland is able to show that far from being protest movements, associations actually provided a link to civic participation. His examination of inscriptional evidence demonstrated a rich interplay between associations of all different stripes and prominent individuals (e.g., through benefaction) and civic bodies. An association would court the favor of rich and influential members of society; those individuals might bestow significant financial resources to the association; the association in turn would respond by honoring the benefactor with prayers and/or a highly visible inscription on a building used for meeting and banqueting. Associations needed the support of such individuals and civic bodies in terms of financial support and (sometimes) offical sanctioning, and prominent members of society craved the honor that came from being recognized for their benefactions.
One of the most interesting parts of Harland's study is his attempt to set Jewish and Christian gathering in the context of associational life. He notes, for instance, the similar terminology that applied to both (synagogues, etc). In fact, he argues that in many places Jews and Christians who gathered together in their respective communities would have conceived of their activities and identity as belonging to the category of association.
In characterizing Jewish and Christian gatherings along the lines of associations, Harland is note suggesting that there is a geneological relationship along the line of their belief systems or even that--in the history-of-religions framework--that such Jewish and Christian groups somehow were a natural outgrowth of the latter in a social evolutionary process. Rather, there is an analogical relationship that tells us much about composition and typical activities. Harland suggests that many scholars of a previous generation, fearful of any suggestion of such a geneaological relationship and wanting to assert Christianity's utter uniqueness as movement, resisted drawing analogies between Jewish/Christian gatherings and associations. Many similarities are to be seen, however, when it comes to investigating much of their activities and the self-descriptive terminology employed, as well as, and here is the surprising part, their relationship with civic authorities--which I hope to come back to.
Harland's analysis of the place of associations in the Greek East of the Roman empire begins with a critique of the former scholarly consensus about the character of associations, which saw them in large part as subversive "clubs." In this view, members of associations, drawn largerly from the lower classes, gathered together according to religious commitments, ethnicity, occupation, etc. as a way to feel connected; this desire for connectedness, moreover, was prompted by a sense of dislocation from civic mechanisms as the Roman Republic became the Roman Empire. Associational activity, then, was a way to express and relieve a deep-seated angst.
In exposing this consensus to critique, Harland is able to show that far from being protest movements, associations actually provided a link to civic participation. His examination of inscriptional evidence demonstrated a rich interplay between associations of all different stripes and prominent individuals (e.g., through benefaction) and civic bodies. An association would court the favor of rich and influential members of society; those individuals might bestow significant financial resources to the association; the association in turn would respond by honoring the benefactor with prayers and/or a highly visible inscription on a building used for meeting and banqueting. Associations needed the support of such individuals and civic bodies in terms of financial support and (sometimes) offical sanctioning, and prominent members of society craved the honor that came from being recognized for their benefactions.
One of the most interesting parts of Harland's study is his attempt to set Jewish and Christian gathering in the context of associational life. He notes, for instance, the similar terminology that applied to both (synagogues, etc). In fact, he argues that in many places Jews and Christians who gathered together in their respective communities would have conceived of their activities and identity as belonging to the category of association.
In characterizing Jewish and Christian gatherings along the lines of associations, Harland is note suggesting that there is a geneological relationship along the line of their belief systems or even that--in the history-of-religions framework--that such Jewish and Christian groups somehow were a natural outgrowth of the latter in a social evolutionary process. Rather, there is an analogical relationship that tells us much about composition and typical activities. Harland suggests that many scholars of a previous generation, fearful of any suggestion of such a geneaological relationship and wanting to assert Christianity's utter uniqueness as movement, resisted drawing analogies between Jewish/Christian gatherings and associations. Many similarities are to be seen, however, when it comes to investigating much of their activities and the self-descriptive terminology employed, as well as, and here is the surprising part, their relationship with civic authorities--which I hope to come back to.
4.30.2009
King and Messiah, Chapter 4, Part 2
The Similtudes of Enoch
In this text is found the “most important and extensive portrayal of a figure called “Son of Man,” . . . apart from Daniel 7.” Collins first deals with authorship and dating of this work. He attributes the Similtudes to a Jewish author writing between 40–70 ce. A Christian author, he argues, would have applied to the title to Jesus (which does not happen), and a Jewish author, if he were writing after 70 ce would certainly have avoided use of “Son of Man,” since it was commonly used by Christians (e.g., in the Gospels) in describing Jesus.
At any rate, what is most pertinent about the Similtudes’ characterization of the “Son of Man” is, first, its portrayal of him as preexistent in a way “typical in pre-Christian Judaism . . . of wisdom.” Moreover, the “Son of Man,” though not said to originate from David, “takes over the functions of the Davidic king vis-à-vis the nations.” In other words, he is enthroned and acts as “the eschatological judge.” Collins points out that despite the fact the “Son of Man” is not also called the “Son of God,” he is angelic and yet, on account of his enthronement, clearly holds authority beyond that given to most angels.
4 Ezra 13
A final text of importance is the apocalypse known as 4 Ezra. Collins highlights the language in the third vision within this work as key for his theme:
Then after seven days I had a dream in the night. I saw a wind rising from the sea that stirred up all its waves. As I kept looking, that wind brought up out of the depths of the sea something resembling a man and that man was flying with the clouds of heaven. . . .
Since the work only exists in translations, and not in the original Semitic, we do not have access to the original words. Collins, however, suggests that “the original may have read ‘Son of Man,” but contends that even if it didn’t, “it is clearly adapting and reworking Daniel’s vision.” Within this vision, the man rising out of the sea occupies the “role traditionally ascribed to the messianic king.” Though the elements, such as sea and clouds, function differently than they do in Daniel’s vision, nevertheless the author of 4 Ezra is appropriating them self-consciously and giving them a creative reinterpretations.
Conclusion
Reflecting on The Similtudes and 4 Ezra, Collins does find points of departure: “The one is a warrior, concerned with the restoration of Israel. The other is a judge, enthroned in heaven, who does not appear on earth at all.” However, it is still the case that both “identify him with the messiah, and describe his role in terms usually applied to the Davidic messiah, although they understand his role in different ways.”
Collins finds in these texts a tendency to see the messiah as preexistent, and as a heavenly figure. He points out, crucially, that there “was evidently no orthodoxy, and only limited consistency, in the ways in which the messiah might be imagined.” Countless texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls, in ruminating on the Davidic messiah, say nothing about his divine status, while texts such as those just discussed speculate “about heavenly deliverers” in a way typical of the period and literature. To Collins:
“In the context of first-century-ce Judaism, it is not surprising or anomalous that divine status should be attributed to someone who was believed by his followers to be the messiah. At the same time, it should be noted that neither the king in ancient Judah nor the messiah in most instances was the object of worship.”
In this text is found the “most important and extensive portrayal of a figure called “Son of Man,” . . . apart from Daniel 7.” Collins first deals with authorship and dating of this work. He attributes the Similtudes to a Jewish author writing between 40–70 ce. A Christian author, he argues, would have applied to the title to Jesus (which does not happen), and a Jewish author, if he were writing after 70 ce would certainly have avoided use of “Son of Man,” since it was commonly used by Christians (e.g., in the Gospels) in describing Jesus.
At any rate, what is most pertinent about the Similtudes’ characterization of the “Son of Man” is, first, its portrayal of him as preexistent in a way “typical in pre-Christian Judaism . . . of wisdom.” Moreover, the “Son of Man,” though not said to originate from David, “takes over the functions of the Davidic king vis-à-vis the nations.” In other words, he is enthroned and acts as “the eschatological judge.” Collins points out that despite the fact the “Son of Man” is not also called the “Son of God,” he is angelic and yet, on account of his enthronement, clearly holds authority beyond that given to most angels.
4 Ezra 13
A final text of importance is the apocalypse known as 4 Ezra. Collins highlights the language in the third vision within this work as key for his theme:
Then after seven days I had a dream in the night. I saw a wind rising from the sea that stirred up all its waves. As I kept looking, that wind brought up out of the depths of the sea something resembling a man and that man was flying with the clouds of heaven. . . .
Since the work only exists in translations, and not in the original Semitic, we do not have access to the original words. Collins, however, suggests that “the original may have read ‘Son of Man,” but contends that even if it didn’t, “it is clearly adapting and reworking Daniel’s vision.” Within this vision, the man rising out of the sea occupies the “role traditionally ascribed to the messianic king.” Though the elements, such as sea and clouds, function differently than they do in Daniel’s vision, nevertheless the author of 4 Ezra is appropriating them self-consciously and giving them a creative reinterpretations.
Conclusion
Reflecting on The Similtudes and 4 Ezra, Collins does find points of departure: “The one is a warrior, concerned with the restoration of Israel. The other is a judge, enthroned in heaven, who does not appear on earth at all.” However, it is still the case that both “identify him with the messiah, and describe his role in terms usually applied to the Davidic messiah, although they understand his role in different ways.”
Collins finds in these texts a tendency to see the messiah as preexistent, and as a heavenly figure. He points out, crucially, that there “was evidently no orthodoxy, and only limited consistency, in the ways in which the messiah might be imagined.” Countless texts among the Dead Sea Scrolls, in ruminating on the Davidic messiah, say nothing about his divine status, while texts such as those just discussed speculate “about heavenly deliverers” in a way typical of the period and literature. To Collins:
“In the context of first-century-ce Judaism, it is not surprising or anomalous that divine status should be attributed to someone who was believed by his followers to be the messiah. At the same time, it should be noted that neither the king in ancient Judah nor the messiah in most instances was the object of worship.”
4.22.2009
The Exploding Wolf in Romans 7
Michael Bird proposes a delightful anology for the Romans 7 struggle over at Euangelion. I, like Bird, see Romans 7 as providing a description of Paul's pre-Christian condition, rather than, as we hear so often in the pulpit, the struggle inherent to the Christian condition.
Read Bird's "Exploding Wolf" analogy here.
Read Bird's "Exploding Wolf" analogy here.
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